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“It’s past visiting hours,” she said.
“I know,” Sharon said. “But love doesn’t have visiting hours.”
The rule-abiding nurse unbent and her expression softened. “I know nothing.”
“Don’t lie. You’re secretly a big soft marshmallow,” Sharon teased.
She wheeled me into Smoke’s room. The lights were already off and his eyes were halfway closed.
“Just a few minutes,” Sharon said. “And then I’m coming back for her.”
I squeezed her hand in gratitude and then she left us alone.
“Hey,” I said softly.
“Hand,” he commanded.
I set my palm on the bed next to his and he laced his fingers with mine.
“Met your parents,” he said.
“Oh?”
“In between your father glaring at me, your mom explained that they’re taking us to the Donovan Hotel so they can take care of us while we recover. That sound about like what they told you?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I told them about you—sorta, I mean. I didn’t have the energy to answer the bajillion questions when they found out you were Tavy’s father.”
“Do they know about the miscarriage?” he asked softly.
I shook my head.
“I’ve been thinking about it. A lot,” he said.
“You have?”
He nodded. “And I just want to say—”
The hospital door opened and the rule-abiding nurse came in, interrupting Smoke.
“I’m here to take you back to your room,” she said to me.
“Where’s Sharon?”
“She went to the cafeteria.”
Smoke released my hand and I looked at him while the nurse turned the wheelchair and wheeled me out of his room.
I wish I knew what he was going to say, but it would have to wait.
The nurse—for all her brusque attitude—was gentle when she helped me into bed. I wasn’t due for pain meds for another hour or so, and my body hurt, reminding me of what I’d lived through.
What I was still living through.
Knox had killed my baby.
Smoke had killed Knox.
I waited to weep until I was alone.
