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“She talked?” My pulse spikes. “In her sleep?”
“You can say so.”
My gut clenches. “What did she say?”
A smile splits her face. “She asked for you.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded. “For me?”
“Yes. Angelo. That’s what she said. Several times. Isn’t that your name?”
My name.
Sabella said my name.
Not consciously, but she said it all the same, and I wasn’t there to hear it.
“Thatisyou,” she says, phrasing it like a question with uncertainty bleeding into her expression.
I scrub a hand over my face. “Yes.”
She pats my arm. “Well, then it’s good. It means she’s slowly but surely coming back to consciousness.”
“I should’ve been here.” Fuck. “I should’ve been here when she asked for me.”
Her manner is kind. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You had to go home to shower, have a meal, and get some rest. You were here before daylight. You must’ve been exhausted.”
“Iwantedto hear it,” I say more to myself than to her.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll hear it plenty when she comes to.”
I’m not so sure, but I don’t correct her as she waltzes away.
“You can stay for a few minutes,” she says from over her shoulder before adding with a wink, “I won’t tell the matron.”
I pull the chair up to the bed and squeeze my body into the narrow seat before taking my wife’s hand. Maybe I’m imagining it, but her skin feels warmer.
“How are you,cara?” I whisper, kissing every one of her fingertips.
Her hand stays limp in mine.
“Don’t worry.” I brush a thumb over her knuckles. “You’re going to be fine. I’m going to take care of you. Just wake up so I can take you home.” Desperate, I go as low as using the children. “The kids miss you. They want you to come home.” I add in a raw tone, “So do I.”
She gives no reaction, no sign that she heard me.
I sit there for a long time, hoping she’ll speak again, but the gods who watched over her and spared her life must be punishing me, because the only sound is the solid beep of the heart rate monitor.
The sun is filtering through the window when the doctor enters. She gives a start when she notices me.
“Visiting hours aren’t until eleven.” She bustles to the trolley and takes a clipboard from a file pocket. “Please tell me you haven’t been here all night.”
I don’t reply.
“Hmm.” She looks at me from under her lashes. “I better have a word with the nurses.”
“She’s my wife,” I say, clenching my teeth.
“And she has to rest,” she says.
