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He doesn’t tell me which I have yet, and I don’t ask. I don’t even remember if he’s told me how long PTA is supposed to last. Maybe he has.
I don’t want to ask again and seem worse than I am.
“So what now?” I wonder.
“We’re going to keep you here overnight for observation,” Farrow says. “Tomorrow, we’ll see how you’re feeling, and I’m going to call a neuropsychologist to come and talk to you and your family.”
Awesome.
“Can I see them?” I wonder.
He nods. “Yeah, but I’m going to talk to them first, so it’ll be a few minutes at least.” He trashes his medical gloves.
I take a breath, my gaze falling to the red sparrows along his collarbones. His tattoos are so, so beautiful.
Wait…is that…? My brother’s name! My eyes widen. I’m about to inquire more about it when I notice aweddingband. It has to be one. It’s on his ring finger!
What.
The.
Fuck?
Does that mean…?
The ring. The new tattoo…?
Is he married to my brother??? When did this happen?! Howcouldthis happen?!
“Wait, Farrow!” I call out. He spins around to face me, and my pounding heart tries to eject from my body again. He eyes the monitor as I ask in a whisper, “You’re married?”
He swallows hard, then combs a hand across his hair. He just nods.
“To whom? When?” I press my fingers to my forehead, and in doing so, I catch sight of black ink on my arm.I have a tattoo?!My pulse spikes. “Is-is this your handwriting?” I stare at music lyrics in Farrow’s familiar scrawl. I instantly recognize his handwriting from all the birthday cards he’s given me throughout the years.
“Luna—”
I touch my tongue with my fingers now. “Oh my God,” I mumble. No wonder my mouth felt strange—I have a tongue piercing! Anxious tears begin to build, and in a panic, I kick down blankets so I can see my legs. What if they’re missing too?
Farrow rushes back to me. “You’re okay, Luna.”
“Nonono.” Uncontrollable tears squeeze out of my eyes, and Farrow helps roll down the hefty blankets. Both of my legs are intact. I’m not a bionic woman, but is that…? I lift the hem of my hospital gown. Intricate lines swirl around my thigh in a gorgeous galaxy—another tattoo. I trace inked planets and stars. How many more do I have? Why don’t I remember getting any of them?
“Take a big breath,” he says.
I’m taking short, sharp breaths. “Who did you marry?” I rub at my wet eyes. “Did…did I miss your wedding while I was asleep? How much have I missed?” It terrifies me, and only when Farrow sits on the edge of the bed and hugs me do I stop gasping for breath.
He whispers consoling phrases, “You’re okay. Just breathe with me.” His heartbeat is powerful and reassuring, the thuds comforting me in silent seconds.
I hang on to him like he’s a buoy in a turbulent ocean. “I need to know,” I say shakily. “I need to know, Farrow.”
He pulls back a little, his hands on my shoulders. He holds my gaze, and I search his eyes for the past. I can’t see anything beyond the present.
Then he says, “I married your brother.” He pauses. “But he’d tell you that he married me.”
Happiness is submerged beneath a swell of despair. “I wasn’t there.”I missed it.
“No, you were there,” Farrow says, getting choked up. He clears his throat, looks to the left, then back at me. “You were in my grooms’ party. You were in the procession walking ahead of me.”
