Baptiste is sitting at my bedside, so close our arms are almost touching. His emerald eyes are fixed on me, intense yet patient, like he’s been holding his breath for hours and only just remembered how to breathe again.
“You’re awake,” he says quietly, his faint accent enveloping me in its familiar warmth.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Still here, apparently.”
“Good.” A tired smile breaks through. “That was the goal.”
I try to sit up, wincing slightly at the movement. Before I know what’s happening, hands are everywhere—Beth adjusting my pillow, Marissa steadying my shoulder, Baptiste hovering like he might catch me, even though I’ve barely shifted my weight.
“Easy.” His voice is laced with gentle authority.
Once I’m settled in, I let my eyes rove the room again, overwhelmed in the best possible way. “What are you all still doing here?” I saw them all briefly last night, but my head was pounding so violently, the nurse gave me something to sleep.
Adler shrugs. “What, you think we’d just leave? You’re one of us now.”
“Well, actually we did go out for a few minutesand,” Beth adds, pointing to a couple of bags near the wall, “we brought supplies. Real food. And coffee. Plus a dash of emotional support.”
That’s an understatement. Flowers, teddy bears, and balloons fill the room.
“Those who couldn’t be here also sent a few things,” Marissa says as if to explain the number of gifts scattered around the room.
A large basket on a side table catches my eye. It’s filled with something—a packaging color I know too well.
My eyes widen, and I turn to Baptiste again. “You brought me a Salted Caramel Twix basket?”
“How did you know it was me?” He grins.
I give him a pointed look, and he just shakes his head.
Soft laughter bubbles out of me, the sound catching in my chest. Before I can say anything else, he presses a kiss to my temple. It’s warm and lingering, draining every ounce of tension from my body, like it’s been waiting for that exact touch.
“Aw,” Marissa exclaims. “You guys are so cute. Alice will be so mad that she missed this sweet moment.”
“And the end of our bet,” Adler chimes in.
“Excuse me?” Baptiste says, mouth falling open. “You guys bet on us too?”
“Wait. ‘Too’?” I ask, my foggy brain struggling to keep up. “What’s going on? Who bet what on who?”
“Well,” he says, turning to me. “Your grandma started a bet with her pals at Golden Age on whether or not we’d get back together.”
My jaw drops. “Grandma!”
“Hold on. What!” Beth exclaims at the same time. “Ismygrandma in on it too?”
“I told you to stop wasting money with bets,” I scold my grandma, though there’s no real heat behind my words.
She raises an eyebrow at Beth. “Don’t be so dramatic, young lady. First of all, I made money on this, and if I understand correctly, you youngsters have your own bet going on.” She shrugs, adjusting her shawl. “There’s nothing wrong with a little wager.”
A few people burst into laughter, and I just pinch myself, not quite sure this is all real.
“Exactly,” James says. “It’s just for fun.”
“So, what did you bet, exactly?” Baptiste asks, his tone suspicious but amused.
“Just if you’d get back together.” He pauses. “And how long it’d take.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “All right. Who won?”
