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Standing up on shaky legs I start to apologize, and she grabs my shoulders and gives me a shake.
“Now, sugar, I won’t hear anything about that. This right here is NOT your fault, do you understand me?” She says, taking my face in her hands and bringing me down so we are eye to eye.
“That young man in there loves you and he wouldn’t want you out here taking the blame for this. It is not your fault that your ex was a no-good-piece-of-shit that wanted to kill you,” Zander snorts and Nina turns a glare on him, “zip it,” she says and Zander makes a zipping motion across his lips and throws his hands up in surrender.
“James family?” A man in a white coat calls and we all say “here” in unison. He approaches us and introduces himself as Dr. Lennon. He clears his throat. “We were able to remove the bullet but Crawford has lost a lot of blood. We had to put him in a medically induced coma and quite honestly, it will be touch and go for a while. You’re welcome to come back and see him but, please, make it brief.” He gestures for us to follow him and we do. After winding through some brightly lit hallways, we approach room 2032. He’s intubated and hooked up to all these machines. There’s a nurse typing away in the corner of the room and she gives us all a polite smile before going back to her task. Nina pulls up a chair beside him and takes his hand, she’s whispering and pressing kisses to his palm. Zander and Steve are talking in hushed tones on the other side of the room.
And me, I’m standing there with my heart broken because this larger than life man looks so different than the man I’ve come to love. I’m so angry at Jason for trying to destroy the life that I’ve built and the bonds that I’ve formed. I approach Ford’s hospital bed and run my fingers over his eyebrow and down his cheek, a tear slipping from my eye that I swipe away. I cover his hand with mine and drop down in the chair next to him. Before I know it, I’m sobbing. Sobbing for what happened with Jase. Sobbing for the way everything went down just hours ago. But mostly, I’m sobbing for the role I played to get us here, to thi
s moment.
Zane and Aria have lost one parent already. It’s not fair that Ford is here, hooked up to all these machines, no one knowing if he’s going to make it through this. I can’t believe I was so selfish to think that it wouldn’t end this way. To think that I could just disappear and Jason would never come looking for me.
I don’t deserve this man and this family. But damnitt, do I want to. I’m still weeping when I feel myself being pulled away and Zander is dragging me into his arms and taking my place in the chair. He tugs me into his lap, and I wrap myself up into a ball and I cry.
???
2 Weeks Later
It’s been a long couple of weeks. Between trying to continue teaching and helping Nina take care of the kids, I’m exhausted. My days are spent in class and my nights are spent helping Aria and Zane with homework and bedtime routines. We are trying to keep them on some sort of semblance of normal, but it’s been hard. They’re worried about if and when Ford will wake up. The doctors are hopeful but realistic. His body is tired. We’ve had numerous tests run to check his brain function and they’ve all come back good. The doctors really think it’s just a matter of time before he wakes up. We just aren’t sure how much, if any, he will remember about what happened.
The doctors have stressed to us that he may not remember anything when he does wake up. The memory loss could range from just short term, the shooting and the things leading up to it. Or long term, any of his memories of Zoe and the kids. I could never forgive myself if he had no recollection of all of his years spent as a husband and father. I’m not sure if he would even be able to forgive me if that happened. Rounding the corner to the room where Crawford has been at, I hear a commotion. Nurses are rushing in and out, there’s a lot of activity and it’s all directed at his room. My heart drops to my stomach and I break into a sprint. I fling the curtain back and I gasp.
“Baby,” I sob out, my hands flying over my mouth. Ford is sitting halfway up in bed, swatting at a nurse who keeps trying to take his blood pressure.
“Fuck,” he rasps, throat dry from having a tube down it. He swats her hand again, “damnitt devil woman, knock that shit off.” He’s got his eyes on me and he reaches his hand out, motioning for me to come to him. I timidly make my way over to the bed, another sob breaking free. He wastes no time pulling me into the bed with him. I can’t believe he’s awake. I run my fingers over his face and down his shoulders, pressing my lips to his.
“I can’t believe you’re awake,” I whisper as he runs his fingers through my hair. He finally allows the nurse to take his blood pressure and the doctor goes about evaluating him to see what he remembers, if he knows how he got here, and how he’s feeling. He answers his questions without ever letting go of me.
Once the doctor is finished and the nurses start leaving Ford turns his attention on me.
“I was so scared that you’d die,” my voice cracks as he holds me. I shove my face in his neck and let the sobs wrack my body.
“Shhh,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my head. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” he reassures me.
“But you might not have been. I almost took away the only parent Aria and Zane have left. I was so fucking selfish thinking Jason wouldn’t find me.”
“Come here,” he says, pulling me onto his lap and holding my face so that we’re eye to eye. “Now, I need you to listen to me. None of this was your fault. NONE of it. You could never have known that it would come to that. There’s no use exploring the what-if. I did that when I lost Zoe and it damn near destroyed me. There will be no what-if’s and why me’s. We are moving on. Right now, all four of us. I am stupidly, ridiculously, and unequivocally in love with you and I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life loving you.”
I shake my head, tears running down my face, still trying to figure out what I did to deserve this incredible man. “I swear to god Crawford James if you propose to me while I’m straddling you in your hospital bed, I will never fucking forgive you.” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. He shoots me that lopsided grin and my heart melts all over again. I love this man so much.
Epilogue
3 years later
“Good morning, Mrs. James,” I open my eyes to see Ford standing next to the bed, looking delicious in a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else. He’s holding a tray with food and what looks to be mimosas on it.
“Mmm,” I groan, stretching, “good morning, husband.” The warm, salty breeze blows through our island cabana. I sit up, bringing the sheet with me and wrapping it around my chest before knotting it. Ford sits the tray on the nightstand and snakes his hand through my hair, tugging me forward for a kiss. I happily oblige.
“My wife,” he murmurs, and I grin against his lips. Wife. I know I’ll never get tired of hearing him call me that.
We got married yesterday in our backyard in an intimate ceremony. Beautiful yellow and red Sunflowers lined the aisleway. No more than thirty people, all our closest friends and family. It was the perfect spring wedding. Aria was my maid of honor and Zane was the best man and it was more than I could have ever dreamed of. And then this man, my husband, swept me off my feet after a night of dancing, stuck me on a plane, and flew me here to the Bahamas. I had no clue we were going anywhere. I was content with just this man, surrounded by our kids and family, saying I do.
But he insisted that we needed a honeymoon with just the two of us. Time to celebrate just us as a couple, as husband and wife. The last three years have been a whirlwind of teaching and coaching and enjoying all of our moments together as a family.
“Now, Mrs. James, I had room service bring us breakfast and drinks,” he says, tugging the stand with the tray of food towards us and lifting the lid off of the plate. There’s scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and French toast. He hands me a plate and a fork, grabbing his own as we settle in to eat. He’s eyeballing me while we eat, and I quirk a brow.
“What?” I ask around a mouthful of food. He clears his throat.
