A Husband She Couldn't Forget Page 11

  Dante just couldn’t let it go. “He shouldn’t be—”

  “Shut up.” Aly clutched Connor’s hand all the tighter. “Now is not the time and this is not the place.” She stared her brother down.

  Dante caved—at least for the moment. He turned on his heel and started pacing again.

  They waited, mostly in silence, for over an hour.

  When Cat’s ob-gyn finally appeared, they learned that she was “stabilized.” The abruption was mild, he said, and so far, the baby seemed to be active in the womb and developing normally. They wanted to avoid a preterm delivery if at all possible, so they were keeping Cat in the hospital at least for the next few days. “We’ll monitor her progress closely and reevaluate treatment as necessary. She’ll be started on medication to help the baby’s lungs develop faster, in case a preterm C-section should become necessary.”

  When the doctor left, Aly leaned close and asked in a whisper, “It doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

  Connor pressed a light kiss to her temple and offered more reassurances. “No. She’s going to be fine—the baby, too.”

  Dante, who’d finally dropped into a chair across from them, muttered something angry under his breath.

  Aly’s shoulders snapped up straight. She glared at her brother and opened her mouth to put him in his place. Connor tugged on her hand before she got a word out, which had her whirling on him. “What?” she demanded. “He’s got no right to—”

  “Aly.” He leaned close again and whispered, “Let it go.” They shared a little stare-down, just the two of them.

  Finally, with a sigh, she sat back in her chair. “You’re right. I’ll take him down later.”

  And that only made Dante scowl all the harder. He kept his mouth shut, though. Her other brothers stayed out of it. Marco fooled around on his phone, Pascal read a dog-eared magazine and Tony just stared into space.

  They waited for another hour or so while Cat was moved to her own room. And then, one by one, Aly and her brothers were allowed in to see her—for just a few minutes each.

  Tony took the first turn. When he came back out, he said that Cat was resting and she wasn’t in pain. The nurses had arranged for a cot in her room so that Ernesto could stay at her side.

  Pascal went next, and then Dante, and finally Marco. By the time Aly had her turn, it was six in the morning and everyone but Dante had gone home to get some rest or get ready for work. They would all be taking turns keeping the hospital vigil as long as Cat stayed at Memorial.

  Aly followed the nurse through the heavy metal doors, leaving Connor and Dante sitting across from each other in the otherwise empty lounge area.

  Dante barely waited for the doors to shut behind his sister before he started in. “What the hell’s going on?” He kept his voice low, but each word burned with angry fire.

  Connor answered carefully. “I’m not sure what you’re asking. And I can’t see how you and me getting into it will do any good for anyone.”

  Dante glanced away. For a second or two, Connor dared to hope he would leave it at that. But no. Dante always had more to say. “I just want answers, that’s all. The way I heard it she was staying in your guest room—something to do with you two burying the hatchet or some such crap. But get real. You know she’s had a head injury. You should have seen her when she woke up the morning after the accident and you weren’t there. Like you ripped out her heart and stomped on it all over again. She really did think you two were still married. The last thing you should be doing is encouraging her delusions.”

  “Dante.” Connor had to exert considerable effort to continue to speak calmly. His ex-best friend had a real talent for hitting his weak spots. Dante could piss him off and rouse his considerable guilt simultaneously. “She knows we’re divorced. She understands the facts. Aly’s not delusional. And she’s not some wilting flower. Come on, you know your sister.”

  “What I know is she’s been staying with you for a week now. Seems to me that’s way more time than you need to make your apologies, get them accepted and move the hell on.”

  “Look. I don’t want to fight with you. Aly asked to stay with me and I’m happy to have her.” Understatement of the year. He was way more than happy to have her. In fact, he wished that having Aly might never end. “It’s not about you. What happens between Aly and me is our business.”

  Dante bored right through him with those dark, angry eyes. “You hurt her again, I’ll...” He let the threat trail off.

  Connor understood perfectly what Dante hadn’t said. He tried to decide how to answer. But what was there to say? He wasn’t asking Aly to leave. She wanted to stay and he wanted her there with him—wanted it a lot.

  As for how it would go down when the time came for her to return to New York, who could say? Someone could very well get hurt—him. Aly. Both of them.

  Dante glared at the rug between his boots. “Has she remembered anything about the last seven years?” He glanced up. Now his eyes were troubled. Evidently, he’d decided not to ream Connor a new one right then and there. He just seemed concerned, worried for the sister he loved.

  Connor shifted in his chair as he thought the question over. “She hasn’t mentioned any specific memories surfacing. But she seems completely accepting of reality. She’s fine, you know? She’s made it clear that she does believe she lives in New York now, that she’s got her dream job, that she and I have been divorced for a long time.”

  “But she hasn’t actually said she remembers anything that happened since the two of you split up?”

  “No. Maybe she’s said something to Dr. Warbury, though.”

  “If you two are getting along so great, why wouldn’t she tell you if her memory was coming back?”

  Maybe she wants what I want, he thought, but decided not to say. And what he wanted was for this amazing thing between them to go on for as long as possible. Talking too much about her real life would only rock the boat on this fantasy they were living out right now—the two of them, together again. Really together. In every way.

  Connor shrugged. “You should ask her yourself.”

  Dante was finding the rug of great interest again. “She and I aren’t getting along so hot lately.”

  “When was that ever news?”

  Dante glanced up again. Surprisingly, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “She was always a pain in my ass. The queen of the family. No one could ever tell her what to do.”

  “Cat’s more the queen, if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t ask you—but all right. That makes Aly the princess, I guess.”

  Connor shook his head. “Princess. I don’t know...”

  “Exactly,” said Dante. “It’s what I said. They’re both queens, Mom and Aly. The rest of us never had a chance against either of them.”

  The double doors to obstetrics swung slowly open. Aly came through them, her steps firm, her head high. In leggings, a wrinkled shirt and a pair of dingy white Converse, she managed as always to look nothing short of regal.

  All it took her was a single glance at the two of them, him and Dante, elbows on their spread knees as they leaned in, facing each other across the space between their chairs. She knew that something had gone down between them while she was with her mom—and she assumed it must be bad.

  Blue eyes flashing, she hitched her big purse more firmly onto her shoulder and marched toward them. “Okay. What’s going on?”

  Dante and Connor sat up straight and answered in unison, “Nothing.”

  She turned on her brother. “What do you think you’re doing? You’ve got no right to—”

  “Aly.” Connor cut her off.

  She whirled on him. “What?”

  “It’s okay. We were just, you know, talking.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, like if she squinted at him hard enough, she could peer in
side his mind. “Really?”

  “Really,” said Dante.

  Her head swung back and forth—to Dante and then back to Connor again. “Humph,” she said finally, and dropped into the chair next to him.

  He put his arm around her and changed the subject fast. “So how’s your mom?”

  “Okay, I think. Pale. Tired. She was sleeping when I left. Dad said we should all go home and get some rest.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.” Dante got up. “I’ll see you two later.” With a curt nod, he left them.

  Aly rested her head on Connor’s shoulder and confessed in a small voice, “I’m kind of scared, you know?”

  He tightened his arm around her. “I know.”

  “The nurses keep saying how it’s a mild abruption, that it could all work out fine, with Mom carrying the baby to full term, even having a regular labor and delivery. But I looked it up on my phone. It’s nothing to fool with. Mom’s forty-eight. The risk of placental abruption increases when the mother is older and if she’s already had several kids. Mom could die. So could the baby. And there’s a lot of not-so-great outcomes short of the worst.”

  Connor pressed his lips into her hair and whispered, “Your mom’s tough.”

  “She is, yeah. But—”

  “Focus on that, on the best outcome. There’s no win in driving yourself crazy imagining the worst.”

  She tipped her head back to look at him. Outside, it must be daylight already. But in the obstetrics waiting area, it felt like the darkest part of the night.

  He said, “Your mom and the baby are both going to be fine.”

  She actually smiled at him. “Look at you. Mr. Positivity.”

  He kissed her, a slow kiss. Because he couldn’t resist and because he wanted to distract her from dark thoughts.

  She laid her head on his shoulder again. “Okay, then. My mom and the baby are going to be fine.”

  “There you go.”

  “Connor?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for coming with me—and for staying, too.”

  “You’re here.” He stroked her hair. “And that means there’s no place else I’d rather be.”

  * * *

  Connor took Aly back to his house. He had a shower, ate some eggs and went to work.

  She had a long nap in Connor’s bed—because it smelled like him, all warm and manly, and because she fully intended to do all her sleeping in his bed for as long as she remained in Valentine Bay. They were together, at least for now, and she refused to sleep anywhere else.

  Her eyes popped open at a little after one in the afternoon. Grabbing her phone off the nightstand, she called her mom’s room at the hospital.

  Cat answered. “I’m okay,” she assured her. “The baby’s okay. Your dad’s here with me. We’re hanging in there.”

  “Great. I’ll be there in half an hour.” Aly got up and hustled to the other bedroom to grab a change of clothes.

  She pulled the closet door wide—and let out a cry of surprise.

  For a short span of seconds, she saw another closet altogether, one full of great clothes and designer shoes.

  My closet in my place in Manhattan.

  She fell back a couple steps and felt the bed behind her. Slowly, never taking her eyes from the open closet, she sat.

  Images assailed her: her small apartment, everything about it. The art on the walls, the windows that looked out on Leonard Street. The gorgeous tatami bed she’d found online four years ago and got a guy she was dating then to help her assemble.

  As she blindly stared at the open closet, she took a mental walk around her Tribeca neighborhood and hailed a cab that took her to Strategic Image.

  Once there, she rode the elevator to the thirtieth floor. She waved at Glenda in reception and breezed into the office, greeting her coworkers one by one.

  It was all so clear. It was her life as she’d been living it for years.

  Aly fell back across the guest room bed and stared blankly up at the slanted hemlock ceiling.

  Tomorrow was the two-week anniversary of the accident. Two weeks, and she was feeling good, getting better every day, remembering more and more.

  She wanted to tell Connor all that she remembered, every last little thing so far.

  But she wouldn’t.

  They had a beautiful, fragile balance going on here and she refused to disturb it in any way. She needed every moment she could have with him. If it wasn’t meant to be forever, well, she’d take twelve more weeks and not waste a second regretting the truth she hadn’t shared.

  * * *

  At the hospital, her dad looked exhausted.

  Her mom was in good spirits, though. Aly sent her dad home and instructed him not to return until dinnertime, at least.

  “Take a shower, maybe have a nap,” she commanded. “And make sure Tucker gets his doggy chow.”

  Her dad grumbled that he was fine and Marco could feed the damn dog, but then he kissed Cat and left, after all.

  Once he was gone, Aly texted Connor that her mom was holding steady, adding, I’m going to stick around here, so I won’t be home for dinner.

  He answered seconds later. I’ll bring you takeout. Fish ‘n’ chips from Fisherman’s Korner?

  She smiled at his thoughtfulness. No need. I’ll get something in the cafeteria. I’ll be at your house by ten at the latest.

  He wrote back, Counting on it. C U then. Best to Cat.

  She bent to stick her phone in her purse. When she glanced up, her mom was watching her.

  “Things are good with the ex, huh?” Cat asked.

  “Really good.” She rose and poured her mom more water. Cat drank and set the plastic glass down on the bed tray in front of her. She held out her hand—carefully, because of the IV taped in the crook of her elbow. Aly scooted her chair closer to gently clasp her mom’s cool fingers.

  Cat said, “Ernesto told me Connor was here with you last night.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “All the boys were here, too. And nobody got hurt?”

  Aly laughed. “There was a definite chill in the air. And later, Dante and Connor were alone together in the waiting area. I don’t know what went on then, exactly. Neither of them would say.”

  Cat shrugged. “Sometimes you just have to leave the men alone and let them figure it out—except when there’s bleeding. You might have to step in then.”

  * * *

  That afternoon, each of Aly’s brothers came by and stayed for an hour or two. Tony’s wife, Lisa, and Pascal’s wife, Sandy, also stopped in to spend a few minutes with Cat.

  At six, Aly’s dad reappeared, freshly showered and shaved, looking considerably more alert than before he’d left. He went straight to her mom for a kiss.

  When he turned to Aly, he said, “That guy who divorced you is out in the lounge.”

  She felt a happy glow all through her. He’d come by even though she’d made it clear he didn’t need to.

  Her dad smirked. “Look at this girl. Like a lovesick teenager all over again.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Don’t tease me, Daddy. It’s not nice.”

  “You can take it—go on, he’s waiting for you.” He even smiled when he said it. Maybe her mom was right. The men just had to work it out between themselves.

  She found Connor, Marco and Dante sitting in the waiting area. As far as she could tell, nobody was injured. Connor stood and she went to him. They shared a quick kiss.

  Aly faked a frown as she stepped back. “What? No fish ’n’ chips?”

  “I was thinking we could find something in the cafeteria.”

  “That’ll do.” She kissed him again.

  Marco groaned. “Get a room, you two.”

  Dante just shook his head.

  * * *

  After
their cafeteria dinner, Connor went in with her to say hi to Cat. Then they hung around in the waiting area, with Aly popping into Cat’s room for a visit around eight.

  Back at Connor’s house, Aly slept with him all wrapped around her. Just like old times.

  Cat remained at Memorial the next day and the next, and the day after that. Aly went to the hospital after breakfast in the morning and stayed until dinnertime.

  Cat was doing well, the doctors said. The abruption hadn’t worsened. The baby was active in the womb, with no signs of distress.

  Connor showed up in the obstetrics lounge every night around six. By the third day, Aly’s dad and brothers were actually talking to him. Aly would emerge from Cat’s room to the low murmur of their voices discussing baseball or the Trail Blazers’ chances for a conference final next season.

  On the sixth day of Cat’s hospital stay, her dad admitted to Aly that yeah, he and her brothers had decided to ease up on Connor.

  “We don’t like what he did seven years ago,” said Ernesto. “But it’s not healthy to live in the past. He’s doing what he can now, to help out. And even your brothers and I can see that you’re not the only one who’s been carrying a torch.”

  In the bed, her mother laughed. “I love it when my husband finally admits that I’m right.”

  Ernesto went to her. “My beautiful wife is always right.”

  “Yes, she is. And her husband ought to remember that.”

  Aly groaned. “Do you two know how weird it is when you start talking to each other in the third person?”

  Her parents ignored her. Cat reached up and stroked Ernesto’s cheek.

  * * *

  On the seventh day of her hospital stay, Cat was released to rest at home.

  She would have regular visits from a nurse-midwife, who would monitor both Cat and the baby for any signs of distress. Everyone was feeling optimistic. The doctor had even gone so far as to say Cat had a very good chance of carrying the baby to term.

  Aly helped her mom get settled in at the house. Her dad stayed home that day, so Aly took off at three for a visit with Dr. Warbury.