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“Roisin, I would marry you this second if I could.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Roisin
Aimee moves her flashlight from one eye to the next, examining my pupil dilation with deliberate care.
“Physically speaking, everything seems to be in order,” she states as she finally puts the light away and jots something down in her notebook. “How are you feeling?”
“Little queasy,” I admit. “But nowhere near as bad as yesterday.”
“And your memory?”
I wince a little at that. Although Arnie had done his best to fill in the things I’d missed, my actual recollection of the events was hazy at best.
“Nothing I won’t miss,” I brush off quickly.
But Aimee has already started fretting. “There are some new studies on exercises that help with things like memory loss. I can send you some stuff over if you’d like?”
I hop off the stool in her ‘office’ and stretch out my aching muscles for maybe the fifteenth time today. “Sure. As long as you don’t give me a binder this time.”
“What if I just laminated a couple of sheets? You could put them in the shower so you can read them when you’re–”
Hugging my sister is sometimes the only cure for her overprotectiveness.
“I need to ask you something,” I say as we break apart.
“Shoot,” she replies, pushing her chair back to her desk.
“Will you be my maid of honor?”
Aimee turns around in surprise and then immediately starts to crumble into tears. “Oh, Roisin! Of course.”
“You’re the only person I’d ever want by my side,” I smile at her as she attempts to dab her leaking eyes with the edge of her scrubs.
“It’s going to be so beautiful, I promise you. Jack and I have been looking at venues for a while and I can send you over everything you might need in terms of contact details,” Aimee begins to gush happily. “There’s this gorgeous place that looks over Central Park, but I’m after something a little more traditional. I mean, I know you always said you’d go to Vegas, but this place would beperfectfor a more low-key event. Do you have any dates in mind yet?”
“Yes, actually,” I say, already bracing myself.
“Let me guess, summer? It was always your favorite season.”
“This afternoon, actually.”
Aimee blinks at me, dumbfounded. “Which afternoon?”
“This one.”
“As in, today?”
“Exactly.”
Aimee sits down on my stool to process this. “I… think I need to check your blood sugar again.”
“I’m serious, Aimee,” I say softly. “Arnie is out looking for venues as we speak. He’s going to text us where to meet him later.”
“He’s going to… text you.”
“So this morning,” I continue without missing a beat. “I figured you could get me all glammed up.”
