“You’re already changing the path too, son, especially since Celeste has been in the picture. You delegate more to Diana and Iggy. You allow yourself days off when you need them. I think you’ve shown howremarkable you are at balancing working hard and having a solid home life. Both of my boys have learned from my mistakes, and I can’t ask for anything more than that.”
His eyes are shiny as he wraps an arm around each of us, hugging us to him tightly. Wayne grasps the back of my neck and brings my forehead to his.
“You can let yourself fall for her, Gagey. No matter what happens, we’re here and we’ll catch you. Don’t ever forget that,” my brother says.
“It might be too late for the falling part. I think a part of me fell for her the moment I saw her walk into the bar,” I admit. My arms circle around each of them, bringing them closer. “Knowing you went through similar feelings helps, Wayne. As long as I’ve got you two, I know I’ll be ok.”
Chapter 23
Celeste
Gage squeezes my hand reassuringly as I check in for my surgery. Who knew I’d end up at Princeton-Plainsboro hospital twice in the space of two weeks? I pause as I pull out the insurance card to give to the receptionist. This little slip of plastic is the entire reason I’m able to get this surgery, and also why I now have a husband at my side. Gage is transitioning to take over the bar, and I’m getting the endometriosis treatment I need to hopefully have much less pain. The terms of our marriage agreement are fulfilled, and I don’t know how to feel about it.
Where do we go from here? We’ve agreed to be together, but are we staying married? Are we divorcing and starting fresh? Is Gage having any second thoughts? Am I? The poor receptionist clears her throat, and I hastily hand her the card that she’s been waiting for. My spiraling thoughts can get pushed into a little compartment until I’ve come through the surgery.
“Are you a spouse or family?” The receptionist asks Gage.
“I’m her husband,” he says, and hearing him say it makes my heart do gymnastics.
“Please fill out your contact information in case of an emergency.”
As he’s filling it out, he leans toward me.
“You holding up ok?” Gage whispers near my ear.
I manage a weak smile at him.
“Just nervous, but I’ll be fine,” I say, and it’s not a lie. He simply doesn’t know how many things I’m nervous about.
We’re soon taken back for me to change into one of those lovely hospital gowns in order to get pre-surgery vitals and testing. There’s a lot of waiting until the nurse comes back to give me the all clear. Gage keeps me amused with stories in his low, rumbly voice, and calms me with soothing touches.
“For a man who never wanted to get married, you sure make the most incredible husband,” I whisper into his chest as he holds me.
“Only for you,” he whispers back.
Those three words are right there on my tongue, but they get stuck. I’ve only ever uttered them to Tania, and the sheer weight of uttering them to Gage is keeping them firmly in place. The anesthesiologist comes in then to collect me and take me down to the operating room. Gage gives me a kiss and assures me he’ll see me when I’m in the recovery room.
Dr. Naraya greets me as I’m wheeled into the operating room. It’s freezing cold, everything cast in stark blues and whites from the harsh overhead lighting, and has that antiseptic smell to the point that my nose feels like it’s burning.
“We’re almost ready. The anesthesiologist is going to insert your IV now to get you to sleep, and the surgery should not take too long to remove the tissue,” she explains.
I nod, and soon I’m getting hooked up to go under. I’m glad this isn’t a surgery where I need to be awake, because there is no way I’d be ok if I had to be aware of what’s going on. The anesthesiologist instructs me to count backwards from ten, and then I’m out.
Awareness creeps in slowly as my eyelids flutter open. A warm hand squeezes mine, the thumb sweeping across my knuckles. I can smell Gage’s citrusy and woodsy scent before I see him. He’s here, just like he promised, and I relax a fraction.
“Hey, Casanova,” I croak.
“How do you feel, mi vida?”
I turn to look at him, and his face is filled with concern.
“I’m uncomfortable, but the pain isn’t bad,” I assure him.
“The doctor said you did great and she was able to get all of the tissue she found,” he informs me, and my breath hitches. I’ve been in pain for almost four months, and this feels like a light at the end of the tunnel. Dr. Naraya had said new tissue might crop up where it shouldn’t, but with different hormones and less stress, it will hopefully not be nearly as bad as it has been.
Gage and I murmur to each other quietly in the recovery room while I get my bearings. He jokes about how he was pacing and could barely keep down the bagel and cream cheese he ate while I was in the operating room. The surgery took just under two hours, and Dr. Naraya came out to talk to him as soon as she could.
“How long have I been out?” I ask.
