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Squaring my shoulders, I nod at him seriously. "Yes sir, I got you." This seventy-year-old gnome looking man just gave me the talk...and I'm grateful for it. It's the best advice I think anyone's ever given me. I touch Bree's shoulder. "I'll be right back...Wes, what's your last name?"
He looks at me quizzically, but answers, then I stop by the coffee cart and get them both a drink, Chai for Bree, coffee for Wes, and deliver it to them. Their heads are bent together, and it's obvious that Bree cares deeply for the man.
So I do too.
It takes twenty minutes to get the administrator down here, and another twenty to arrange everything. But soon I'm heading back to them, administrator in tow.
She smooths her tailored skirt down, and gives Wes a warm smile. "Mr. Whitaker, we're making arrangements to move your wife. If you'd like to come with me, I'll take you to her new room, and you can meet her there."
Wes looks puzzled, but rises to his feet, giving Bree a little nudge on her shoulder, then nods to me, "Boy," then he's following the administrator, his faded blue plaid shirt tucked into ancient jeans a jarring contrast to her expensive outfit.
Bree takes my hand, tucking herself under my arm. I press a kiss to her hair and steer her toward the cafeteria. "We can't go back empty-handed. Let's get some drinks at least, and you can tell me all about Wes."
"I can't tell you anything about Wes. It would be unprofessional." She winks, simultaneously making it clear that he's a client, but that's all she's going to tell me. I respect her integrity, but I'm intrigued by the man and plan on prying a little more out of her.
We make quick work of loading up on drinks, and we grab a few easy to carry snacks too. Bree holds my arm as we slowly make our way back to the VIP wing.
"His wife's been asleep for over a month," she says, looking straight ahead. "He never left her. He found some cheap little room here in town, and spends every day with her, sitting by her side, holding her hand."
"Well, where else would he be?"
She stops, staring at me, a slow smile dawning. "You're right. There's nowhere else he should be."
I look down at her, at those blue eyes a man could drown in, and give her the truth. My truth, though I haven't actually given her the words yet. "A man loves his woman that much, he's always going to choose to be with her."
Her gaze is searching, hopeful. "That's a pretty big love."
I should wait and do this with candles and a soft bed. Or just somewhere other than a busy hospital corridor with my arms full of chip bags and drinks. But I don't want to wait. The words won't stay locked in my chest anymore.
I suck in a breath, and tear my chest open, giving her everything I am. "I know exactly how he feels. I fought it, Bree. We're too messy. There's so much in our way, like your sister and my brother. But I couldn't fucking stop myself. I tried to stop it. I pushed my feelings down. But I know you. I see how amazing you are, and the idea of staying your friend and watching you meet some other man literally makes me want to commit murder. You're it for me. I've known it for weeks. Hell, my gut told me you were mine the night I met you."
Her eyes are getting glassier as I speak. Risking dropping everything in my arms, I drop my forehead to hers. "I love you Bree. More than anything. It's the sit by your bed and hold your hand as long as it takes kind of love. It's the forever kind."
She sniffs and laughs. "Thank God," she whispers, voice cracking. "I hoped you love me. Because I love you. So, so much."
My breath shudders out in a long exhale. I hoped. I prayed. But I didn't know. "I'm not ever letting you go. I can't." I don't know if I'm warning her or reassuring her. My mind is swirling with elation, and hope and relief. But behind it all is still a tiny bit of fear. She seems to sense it. She presses her lips to mine, softly nipping, chasing away everything but her.
She slides her lips to my ear. "It'll be ok. You'll see. They love us, and when they look at us without the haze of their own worries, they'll see how perfect we are for each other."
I smile and steal one more kiss. She's right. Everyone's going to have to get their heads out of their asses, because I'm not letting anyone or anything come between us.
37
BREE
I'm floating. Through the white hallways, past security, across the wood-paneled lobby, and into the elevator. I can't stop smiling. Nick keeps sneaking looks at me, the same joy I'm feeling in his face. He loves me. Really loves me. His words echoing some of what I've been feeling too. That night I met him, the overwhelm of moving and so many large men in our space was getting to me. But his smile, his kind brown eyes were like a beacon, pulling me out of the darkness, toward his light.
I wasn't ready for him then, but I can admit that there was something about him that drew me in. It wasn't love at first sight. I was too broken for that. But there was a spark that ignited in my belly. And every time I saw him, at a family dinner or some other gathering, that spark grew. I don't know when it changed —I can't point to one moment and say that's it, that's when I knew— it was a slow gradual blooming instead of an instant firework. So slow that I don’t even remember what it was like before I loved him.
Maybe that's why I trust it.
If it was an instant earth shattering connection, I would doubt it, and myself. But we're not that. We're the drinking beer on the couch, laughing in the checkout line, holding hands as we fall asleep, kind of love.
The kind that sticks, not the kind relying on excitement and drama to keep the interest alive. No, I can picture curling up next to Nick in thirty years, arguing over a game. And laughing. I can almost hear the laughter.
The elevator doors open on the fifth floor, and we're back in the room with everyone's opinions and judgment, but this time, it doesn't phase me. Knowing exactly how Nick feels makes everything so black and white. We love each other, and the family will get on board. Simple as that. And if it takes them a while, that's okay.
We have time.
