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Lois sits back, nodding. “I get it. I know you’ll do whatever it takes to get him better. Thank you, Luke.”
“He’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
Luke looks down at me, his eyes flashing with some sign of panic. I can read his regret, that he didn’t mean anything bad by his offer. Then he frowns, leans forward, and kisses me on the forehead. It’s almost as if he’s saying, It’s not your fault, but he knows better than to do that with Lois here.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
We turn at the raised voice of the security guard. A young man stands near the vending machine, his phone aimed at Luke and me.
“Nothing,” the man says, turning away.
The guard catches up and grabs his arm. “Didn’t look like nothing.”
“It’s not a crime to take photos.”
“Why?”
Lois’ voice is taut, as if she could snap any second, and her whole body shivers as she slowly rises to her feet and stares at the man. She walks as far as the security guard will let her, then glares at the man. Her hair has come loose from her topknot, sweaty strands of it spiraling.
“Listen, I just…”
“No,” Lois snaps, and I can tell nobody is going to stop her or even think about stopping her. She’s got too much anger burning up in her.
“Explain what you were doing.”
The man lowers his head, sighing. “I was just… Well, that’s Luke Hart with a woman. I wanted to get a photo because, well, I mean… Look at them, that’s all. It makes a good photo.”
Luke sighs darkly. “Careful what you say about my girlfriend, kid.”
He’s not a kid. He’s probably older than me, but it feels oddly good to hear Luke put him in his place. Luke is so experienced and mature. These sorts of men must seem like silly little kids to him.
“A good photo, how?” Lois says.
“Just, well… look. Their age. It’s not a problem. I’m sorry.”
“Their age,” Lois repeats darkly. “People said me and my husband wouldn’t work. They said we were destined to crash and burn for so many reasons, and now my husband might die, and you, you…”
She points her finger at him. “You disturb us while I’m waiting to hear if he’ll make it through, and worse, you do it by taking the one bright spot in this whole situation. They’re in love. Anybody could see that. So what if there are a few years between them? So what? Does that mean you have to judge them and belittle them?”
“I just… I’m sorry. I’ll delete the photo.”
“No,” Luke calls out. “Keep it. Let the world see it unless Lois decides she’d rather not have a photo from the hospital online. Then you better delete it before somebody wrecks your damn phone.”
“Is anybody else in the photo?” Lois asks.
“Look.”
The man shows her his phone, and slowly, a smile spreads across Lois’ lips. She looks at me with a glint in her eye, and I remember what she said in the hospital room about never letting go.
“You look like a couple,” she says.
Luke hugs me closer to him. “That’s because we are.”
“Fine.” Lois waves a hand. “Keep it.”
“Are you sure?” I ask Luke.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Are you ready for the world to know?”
He kisses my cheek softly, speaking in a reassuring whisper. “I was certain the first time I ever saw you. I’ll never doubt us, Jane, never. You’re the only woman I ever need. Let the world see.”
“What if they call me a gold digger? Or call you a cradle robber?”
“Let them,” he snarls. “They’re wrong. We know how special what we have is. The rest of the world can go to hell if they speak about you with anything other than respect. I’ll fight the bastards.”
“You don’t like when people disrespect me, do you?” I whisper.
“Nobody has that goddamn right.”
Lois returns to her seat. We wait. Two hours later, the doctor tells us that Christopher survived the surgery, but they’ve had to induce a coma while he recovers.
“Is he going to wake up?” Lois asks, her voice cracking.
“We can’t give you a definitive answer on that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Luke
“I’ll see you first thing in the morning,” Jane says, sitting on the edge of the bed as she looks down at the phone.
“Get some rest,” Lois replies.
“You get some rest,” Jane says fiercely. “Remember what the doctor said. He’s stable. You won’t be any use to him if you don’t get some sleep, a few hours, at least.”
“I will, and thank you, Jane. So much.” Jane sighs when she hangs up the phone.
She’s changed into a black T-shirt with a programming function on the front in white lettering, her wet hair from her recent shower tied up. She’s wearing shorts, which she seems to like. That’s fine by me. Goddamn, her legs. It’s getting increasingly difficult to contain the hunger—to stop myself from going full beast mode.
