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Layla scoffs. “Are you kidding? She was here for me, not the other way around.” She pauses, giving me a look that tells me I’m about to get a sister lecture. “I like her.”
I watch, waiting for her to say more, but she just shrugs her shoulders. “That’s it?”
“Look, I know I’m tough on girlfriends, although I haven’t had to worry about that for several years now.” She smiles and looks to the door, making sure we’re alone before she says more. “That woman out there, she loves you—like for real love. I saw her when I first got here. Gemma was walking her away, and she was in shock. She was drenched in your blood.” She swallows, and I try to picture how horrible that must have been. “Her entire dress was ruined, and it was just…everywhere, but it was her expression that told me everything I needed to know. She was absolutely tortured. Heartbroken.”
Absorbing her words, I lean back against the bed. I wish she hadn’t had to deal with any of that. No one should ever think the one person they love most is going to die. I’ve been in that situation with her more than once, thinking I was going to lose her, thinking I was going to have to live a life without her in it.
It’s my definition of hell.
“I’m one hundred percent Team Miam.” My sister smirks, and I furrow my brows before I understand.
I smile at her and say, “Don’t call us that.”
It’s been hours since I woke up. I’m exhausted, and I’ve been poked and moved and prodded and bothered ever since I woke up. All I want is for Margaret to crawl in this bed beside me and for me to get to sleep for two days.
She’s been somewhat standoffish. I’m not sure why, but she’s stayed off in the corner of the room in an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair, watching everyone around her. She’s still in the scrubs Gemma told me she forced her into, which means Margaret hasn’t left the hospital since I was admitted. I’m surprised no one forced her out.
Finally, the last person leaves us alone, and she stays where she is, watching me with curiosity.
“C’mere,” I rasp at her. After talking to doctors and nurses and Gemma—fuck, she was relentless in her questioning—and everyone else who felt the need to visit, my voice is done for.
Margaret makes her way to my bedside, and I grab her before she can get away, pulling her down on me. She gasps and tries to catch herself before falling too hard, but I don’t give a shit if she hurts me. She’s all I need.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers, gently leaning her head on my shoulder.
“You leaving would hurt me.”
She doesn’t answer, but her arm tightens around my stomach and I just hold her. I hold her and I thank God we’re here now, thank God we’ve been able to trudge our way through all this shit and get to this point right here.
I think, in the back of my mind, there was a little doubt. I never wanted to acknowledge it, because I never wanted to give up hope, but I wasn’t positive I was going to get Margaret in my arms again, wasn’t sure I would be able to openly love her.
But fuck, it’s my only plan.
I don’t care where I live, where I work—as long as I have her.
I just need her.
I tighten my arms around her and close my eyes, breathing in her scent and kissing the top of her head. “I love you.” My whisper drifts out of my mouth with no thought, just the conscious feeling of it needing to be expressed.
Thinking she’s asleep, I lean my head back on the pillow and allow sleep to start pulling me under, but before it can, I hear her whisper back a promise I’ll hold with me forever. “I love you, too.”
