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“How is she?”
“The doctor said she should feel better when she wakes up.”
“Kieran.” I tense at the way he pronounces my name, as if he knows I will not like his next words. He cups his neck. “I think I should take her to my place. This was a mistake.”
If I had a gun on me, I would have put a bullet through his skull. This woman, my woman, will stay right where she is, where she belongs. I fucked up, but she still wants me, and I will fix this. It might be just the babbling of a sick woman, but she clung to me the whole time she was sick. That has to mean something.
We stare each other down when Aurora awakens with a moan. To see some color returning to her face, eases my worry.
I palm her cheeks, and she places her hands on mine.
“What day is it?”
“Thursday.”
Panic transforms her face.
“I can’t miss Chiara’s wedding.”
Cameron appears next to us. “I don’t think that will happen, Aurora. You have to get better first.”
When her eyes seek mine, not his, I take her hand and kiss her knuckles. She is not asking me for permission but to take her side.
“Let’s see if we can get you on your feet in two days.”
She nods and leans against the headboard. Tamara brings her a plate of food, and she nibbles on a piece of fruit. I jerk my chin to both of them to leave. Reluctantly, they do. Alone, I feel an ineptness like never before.
“I want to shower.”
I help her up. Aurora wobbles on her feet. Guilt stabs at my heart, butchering it.
“Should I ask Tamara to help you?”
“You’re here.”
So many implications in one sentence. Giving absolution to the greatest sinner.
“I hurt you, and I couldn’t—”
She leans into me, into my touch. I am holding my entire world in my arms.
“Kieran.” My name out of her mouth is a stitch for every ruptured suture inside me.
I help her into the shower, and she giggles when I step in with my sweatpants and shirt on.
“You’ll get wet.”
“No problem.”
“I think we both need a shower. Take your clothes off.”
My hands tremble when I undress her. I don’t deserve to touch her. But her eyes keep me moving, looking at me with so much trust.
“I want to go outside,” she says after we finish, as I’m drying her with a towel.
She closes her eyes and rests her head on my shoulder. As if I was a source of comfort, not torment. Knowing I don’t deserve her and being reminded of that fact feeds me pounds of agony. I lift her up and bring her to bed.
“Maybe after I sleep for a while,” she concedes.
