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“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat.”
Aine took a deep breath and focused her gaze on him.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m wondering why you’re here.”
“Because I want to be.”
“I can’t imagine the most important thing you have to do is sit at my bedside and pester me about eating or about drugging myself up so much that I don’t know what’s going on.”
Striker smiled. Feisty was good. His experience was that it was indicative of a person feeling better. At least somewhat.
“Where’s my phone?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Striker stood and looked around, but didn’t see it. He walked over to the closet and found a drawstring bag containing her belongings. When he opened it, he found both her phone and a smaller plastic bag containing her jewelry. He took the bracelet he’d given her for Christmas out, walked back over, and handed her the phone. She typically wore the bracelet on her right arm, but since that’s where they’d placed the IV, he fastened it on her left wrist.
Aine looked at the bracelet and then at him.
“I like seeing it on you,” he murmured, rubbing her wrist with his thumb. He reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out the compass she’d given him for Christmas. “I never go anywhere without this.”
Before she could ask why, the door opened and the doctor came in.
“Do you want me to wait outside?” he asked. He was about to stand when Aine tightened her grasp on his hand.
He leaned in closer. “Are you sure you want me to stay?”
“Please,” she whispered and Striker nodded.
The doctor sat in one of the other chairs near the bed. “Do you remember me?” he asked. “I’m Dr. Stevens. We met in the emergency room.”
Aine nodded. “I don’t remember anything after that.”
“You needed emergency surgery.”
“Yes,” she murmured with wide eyes.
The doctor looked from her to Striker and then down at the chart. “I didn’t ask before, but are you Aine’s husband?”
“A friend,” Striker told him.
The doctor took a deep breath. “I’m afraid what I have to share with you isn’t good news.”
Aine’s grasp on Striker’s hand tightened more.
“We weren’t able to save your right ovary. The mass was too large.”
Striker watched her nod.
“On the left side, you had several smaller cysts, which also compromised the integrity of the ovary.”
“What does that mean?”
Dr. Stevens took another deep breath and looked between her and Striker. “I cannot guarantee that you’ll be successful with any future attempts at pregnancy.”
Striker put his other hand on top of hers.
“Do you have any questions?”
