“What are you doing here?” I murmur softly into her hair, breathing her in like I didn't just see her last night.
“I...,” she starts hesitantly. “I hated the idea of you being alone dealing with this. I figured I'd come by and see if you wanted company, or at least drop off some Italian food.” She says it in a whisper, clearly clocking my mom sleeping over my shoulder and not wanting to disturb her.
Something completely shifts in my chest with her saying that. Having an attraction and shared values is one thing. Showing up for one another like this in a time of need is another level that I have never experienced before. The concept of having a partner to help shoulder things is so foreign that I can feel my entire chest crack, because there isn't enough room for how much this feeling is filling it up and making my heart expand. When I take another deep breath of her rose scent, I feel lighter than I have in 10 years, even in spite of the day I've had.
Chapter 16
Lyra
Taran releases me from his hug, only to cup my face in his hands to drop a sweet kiss on my lips.
“So, it's ok that I'm here, then?” I quip.
“Only because you brought Italian food, and your voice went a little adorably British again just then,” he scoffs playfully with a wink.
I hand him the bag of food that almost got crushed in his hug, and pretend to walk away with a sassy look over my shoulder, before he grabs my wrist and brings me into him again.
“It's really great you're here, Firecracker,” he whispers into my neck before pressing a kiss there.
This is incredibly outside of my comfort zone, so for him to be happy I'm here is making my knees almost buckle with relief. It seemed like he could use some company, since I know his only other family is in California. This is the closest hospital around here, and I just gave the Malloy name at reception, saying I was family. I barely squeaked in before visiting hours end. I explain all of this to Taran asquietly as possible, but both of our heads whip toward the bed when we hear a throat clearing.
“Not exactly the way I hoped to meet you, Lyra, but I'm very glad you're here,” his mom says warmly, bemusement dancing across her face. I go over with Taran at my side, his hand a support on the small of my back, and she takes my hand to give it a gentle squeeze.
“It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Malloy, although I definitely wish it were under better circumstances, too. I'm sorry if I woke you,” I tell her, squeezing her hand back.
“The smell of Italian food can break through even my deepest sleep. You're also meeting me while I'm in a flimsy hospital gown, I think we can dispense with being formal and have you call me Eve,” she replies, putting her other hand over mine to give it a pat. I love her already. Her humor seems like mine. She's beautiful, and I see her in Taran. They have the same dark, thick, wavy hair, angular jawline, high cheekbones, and deep set eyes. Her eyes are a startling blue compared to his warm toffee, though. Taran is watching us with the cheesiest grin on his face, clearly loving that his mom and I obviously will get along.
“Are you all hungry? I know it's a little early,” I ask.
“I’m always hungry,” Taran replies.
“I could definitely eat, I just have to be careful,” Eve says ruefully.
“I thought of that. I looked it up and fresh spaghetti aglio olio is a good choice. Nothing too fatty and nothing fried,” I tell her, pulling her container out of the bag, with that delicious smell of garlic and herbs filling the hospital room. She lights up, making hilarious grabby hands for it.
“Doesn't seem like you're a fan, I should have brought something else, huh?” I deadpan to her, and she barks a laugh.
“How are you feeling, Ma? You seem better than before your nap,” Taran asks
“Not awful, all things considered, son. Let's eat before this wonderful food Lyra brought gets cold.”
Eve digs into her spaghetti, I reach for penne vodka with chicken, and Taran starts to devour the chicken parm. We sit in easy silence as we eat, while trying not to make a saucy mess. There is some small talk sporadically between delicious bites, with Eve and I eventually delving into endless back and forth about Italian food. It's so comfortable being with her, she's made me feel welcome from the first moment I stepped into her room. The shameful thought strikes me that I have never felt this level of ease and comfort with my own parents. It’ll be another super fun topic to talk about with Dr. Kirkfield.
After we finish eating, Eve is tired and wants to rest more. First, a nurse comes bustling in to take her vitals and check on her. Taran watches closely, making sure they all look good. They do, thank goodness. Then Eve kicks us out, telling us to go walk and talk so she can sleep. We amble down the hallway as Taran threads his fingers with mine.
“I’m really glad you're here, Lyra. You made this awful day better,” he tells me, bringing my hand to his mouth to kiss it. I melt a little. “How long are you able to stay?”
“I have plans to go to dance class with my friend, and I'd feel bad ditching her. I'd have to leave soon to make it on time, the class is at 6:30,” I tell him regretfully. I want to stay here longer with him, but I also don't want to be that person that ditches plans with one of the few friends I have for a new man. It was the dilemma I wrestled with on the whole way over here. We're so incredibly new, kissing for the first time last night. Does he take priority now, in an emergency situation like this? Would I be too eager at thispoint if I cancelled my plans to be here for him? Even worse, what if I cancelled them and he didn't want me here? It isn't until I feel him start to shake with laughter and bring me into the fiercest hug I've ever experienced, that I realize with utter horror...I said all of that out loud. Fuck.my.life.
“Those are some hard hitting questions, Firecracker,” he says into my hair. “To answer them, we'll figure out how to prioritize each other as we go along, you could never be too eager with me, and there is never a time I wouldn't want you with me.”
“See, just like I told you. My mouth tends to outpace my brain. And why the hell are your answers to my stream of conscience questions so nice and perfect?” I bury my head into his chest to hide my reddening face. His chest starts to vibrate with more laughter.
“I like hearing how your beautiful brain works,” he tells me, and I feel his smile on the crown of my head.
“I’m glad someone does, because I think it would be wonderful if it would shut up sometimes and not let my mouth run off with every thought.” I'm so embarrassed that I want to disappear. It's fine, though. I'm a mature woman who can own up to her awkward moments, I tell myself. I've certainly been way more embarrassed than this in my life, so I need to get my shit together. He lifts my chin with his fingers to look me in the eyes, his face completely earnest.
“Hey, it's all good. I’m so happy that you came, and I understand if you can't stay. You made my mom's day by showing up, too. I may or may not have told her a little about you,” he tells me, a freaking adorable blush creeping into his cheeks on his last words.
