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What could I possibly have that he would want?
Connor’s fingers twitch in my hand, and my head shoots up. His eyes are open, as far as they are able, and they are staring at me. He pulls his hand from mine, reaching up slightly, trying to touch my face.
“Are you real?” he asks, his voice gravelly from not being used.
I press his palm to my cheek, unable to stop the tears from flowing now.
“I am,” I say, my mouth stretching in a smile.
His thumb rubs back and forth, feeling me, and I lean into his touch. I bask in him for a moment. We say nothing as we stare, taking each other in.
The washcloth on his forehead moves as he tries to frown, and I take it off, brushing the dampness away with my fingers.
“What happened?” he asks, and I sigh.
“You were foolish and dumb,” I tell him, and his mouth quirks slightly and then evens back out. “You got yourself taken and tortured.”
“How did I get here?”
I make small circles with my index finger on the inside of his arm.
“There’s a piano downstairs,” I say, changing the subject.
This time, his mouth does tilt up in a smile.
“It’s here?”
“Why did you get it?Whendid you get it?” I ask. Ever since it was delivered yesterday, gleaming and gorgeous, I’ve been dying to know.
“It’s for you, a wedding present,” he says, trying to prop himself up but failing. His face contorts in a grimace as he lies back down with a groan.
I stand, plumping the pillow behind his head and adding a second one so he isn’t flat.
“I rush-ordered it when we were leaving Chicago.”
I digest that information. “I thought we were a business arrangement.” I twirl the wedding band around my finger as I mull it over.
“The way you played that night was mesmerizing, almost erotic. I wanted that again,” he says, his hand opening for mine. “I’ve been so stupid.”
I jerk my head up, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”
“Death does something funny. The promise of it looming makes a person think about their life choices, and I realized something.”
“What?” I whisper the word. I’m almost afraid to hear his answer.
“That our paths crossing wasn’t a coincidence. I think you were meant to be in my life. Maybe you were meant to be mine, and I’m supposed to be yours. This has been quick, and some people would call it a whirlwind, but I call it fate. You were always going to belong to me. I didn’t want to believe it until I almost lost it all.”
I’m staring at him. The words coming out of his mouth are almost too much for me. I thought I was the only one who felt like I’d lost most of myself when he was gone. But to find out he felt it too, that he is actually voicing it, it’s almost more than I can handle.
“Don’t cry,” he says, reaching up to rub away the wetness on my cheeks.
I laugh because what else can I do?
“I’m not crying,” I say with a sniffle, and he smiles and then flinches as his cheek moves. “Don’t do that; you’ll make it bleed.” I fuss with the edges of the bandage, making sure it is still fastened down and secure. “Why did you risk it all?”
He remains silent for a moment, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, and I think he’s not going to answer me. Then, he does.
“I guess the simple answer is, I lost my mind. I’d wanted a different life for all of us for so long that I tried to take it. I thought someone I trusted was double-crossing me, and I lost the patience that I’d so carefully cultivated. I’d always been calm and in control of myself, and in that moment, I didn’t want to be. I wanted to be wild and unhinged. And it was a fucking mistake.”
