Annika hasn’t been here once. No calls. No texts. Nothing. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if she was watching me at night, wondering if there was a plug she could pull or something she could inject into an IV that would go unnoticed.
If there is one good thing to come out of this hospital stay, it’s that I’ve realized just how much of a heartless woman Annika is. And I don’t care how much it costs, how messy it is, or how long it will take, I’m leaving Annika the second I get out of here.
“I do have time, but I don’t need to look up the definition, Miss Blackstone. Because I have the pickup line to end all pickup lines at my disposal. The question is, are you ready for it?”
She pulls up a seat next to my bed before sitting down. “Lay it on me.”
I sit up a little straighter and lean forward, closing the distance between us. And mentally patting myself on the back for not having some sort of semi-perverted response for her saying “lay it on me.” I’m pretty sure in my current condition, I couldn’t lay anything on anyone at the moment. I pick up the scent of something floral from her, and I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been in the hospital for six days, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever smelled.
I clear my throat, hoping it sounds like I’m preparing for the line, not pushing away thoughts of flowery perfume on a woman who is completely off-limits.
“Paige?”
“Yes, Garrett?”
“On a scale of one to America, how free are you tonight?”
She holds back a laugh, but after a few seconds, she can’t contain it. It comes out loud and full and it’s contagious. I’m pretty sure she woke up my roommate, and from the sounds of it, his wife is getting a good chuckle out of my terrible line. I don’t care if we woke up the whole floor, because Paige’s laugh is one of the best sounds I’ve ever heard in my life.
“My God, that was horrible.”
“And if by horrible you mean amazing, then you are correct.”
Her laugh is now taking over her petite frame, which only makes me laugh harder. That is until I’m reminded why I’m here.
I begin coughing, which shoots Paige from her seat. By the time I catch my breath, she is next to me, holding my hand.
“It’s fine. Just… hurts a little.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “This is all my fault. And how horrible am I? I haven’t even asked you if you’re OK? Or why you are here? God, I’m a horrible person. Who talks about pickup lines in a hospital room!”
I turn my hand over, giving her comforting hand a squeeze. “Don’t you dare apologize. This is the first time I’ve smiled, or laughed, since I’ve been in here. And I had a pulmonary embolism. It was sudden and I got lucky. But please, my family is worried enough. I don’t need you worrying about me too.”
My words aren’t a lie. This night has been the best since my near-death experience on the beach. Mom and Mark, along with Charlie and the kids, have come by each day. Annika, being MIA, has been good and bad. Good, because I really don’t want to see her. Bad, because I’m running out of ways to explain to my mom about why my wife hasn’t been here without saying the words “bitch” and “divorce.” In all reality, she’s probably off finding her next husband.
I got a roommate yesterday, and he seems like a good-enough guy, even though we haven’t talked much. Even if I wanted to, it would be hard. The guy always has visitors. And when no one is randomly stopping by with well wishes, his wife is making sure he’s taken care of.
Which makes me think…
“Not that I’m sad about the company, but can I ask, why are you here?”
Paige sits back down, satisfied that I’m not about to have another coughing fit. “I volunteer here. At the hospital. I was dropping off flowers to your roommate and noticed you… well, asleep. Because yes, I was staring at you. But in my defense, seeing you took me by surprise.”
I laugh at her admission, though it’s the first part of her statement that surprises me.
“You volunteer here?”
She nods. “For a few years now.”
“How have I never seen you here?”
“Why would you? Are you… I mean, does this happen a lot?”
Her questions are genuine, and I realize that she doesn’t know anything about me other than I’m Cullen’s uncle.
“No. This is the first time I’ve been here as a patient. I’m an orthopedic surgeon.”
“Oh, I’m usually downstairs at reception,” she says. “And I’m usually only here on weekends. Today is special because of the holiday. I don’t get up to patient floors that much anymore. That’s probably why we haven’t run into each other.”
Her response catches me off guard. Not that there’s anything wrong with what she said. I think the fact that she volunteers is admirable. Doing that on top of her work schedule further proves she’s the saint that Charlie insists she is—or even the angel that I think she is.
No, what has me shaking my head is her lack of reaction when I told her what I do for a living. Usually when I tell a woman what my job is, I can immediately see dollar signs in her eyes. It doesn’t matter if I’m married or not, they hear “doctor” or “surgeon” and they are already plotting ways to get into my pants, and my wallet.
But when I look at Paige, there isn’t a mischievous glint in her eye. No, she’s looking at me like I’m… normal. Like we are just two people having a conversation.
It’s nice. Refreshing.
“So, what has you volunteering on Christmas Eve? I didn’t think anyone who didn’t have to be here tonight would be.”
“I always volunteer on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I don’t have any family around here, and just because it’s a holiday, this place doesn’t close down. So I come in and do whatever needs to be done.”
“You don’t do anything for Christmas?” I know it’s a personal question. I can’t help it. I suddenly want to know everything about this woman.
She shakes her head. “My mom lives in Alabama, and well, I don’t go back there. Friends I teach with always invite me over to their houses on Christmas, but I always feel awkward going. I’d much rather be volunteering. It’s what I do every other day of the week, why not on a holiday?”
“Every other day of the week? As in, you volunteer every day?” I don’t know if it’s my growing fatigue or the medication, but I couldn’t have heard her right. Who volunteers every day of the week?
She nods. “That’s right. I’m involved with a lot of nonprofits and local programs. There’s the drug counseling center, the women’s shelter, and the Red Cross. I run the school’s blood drives. Oh, and I just started at the food bank. And if a student needs my help, I stay after school and tutor.”
“That’s on top of your full-time job?” Charlie was right. This woman is a saint. “Aren’t you tired? I’m tired just listening to you talk about it.”
“You can’t be tired if you’re always moving.”
At that moment, my body betrays me, letting out a yawn that I swear lasts for twenty seconds.