But, as always, reality seeps in. The reality of her situation.
Taylor might be here right now, telling me she loves me and that she wants to stay with me, but she’s sick. Really sick. And time isn’t on our side.
Releasing her slightly, I stare down at her. “Why did you leave the hospital, babe?”
Her eyes lower. “I needed to see you.”
“You could have called me.”
She lifts her stare back to me. “The battery on my cell had died. My charger was at the hotel.” She lifts her shoulders.
“You could have used a phone at the hospital.” I’m not giving up here.
“I don’t know your number. It’s on my phone—you know, the one that died.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. God, I’ve missed her sass. Okay, I’ll give her that. “So, why did you check out of the hotel?”
She lets out a sigh. “Because I needed my stuff, Hunter. And it just made sense. I was due to check out of the hotel tomorrow anyway, and I was coming to see you tonight with the hope that you still wanted me.”
“I want you.” I cup her cheek in my hand.
She gives me a warm, loving smile. “So, I thought I could leave some of my things here instead of taking everything to the hospital with me.”
My heart stills. “So, you are planning on going back to the hospital?”
Her stare catches and holds mine. “Yes.”
She says yes, but I can still see that darkness called guilt lining her eyes.
“And the surgery?”
“I’ll have it done,” she says the words quietly.
And she’s saying them, but I can hear the doubt and anguish still in her voice.
But she’s saying she’ll have it done, so I’ll take whatever I can to keep her healthy and alive and with me.
“But, Hunter, you have to know…the surgery isn’t a guarantee. I’ve left it so long now, and—”
“Shh.” I press my lips to her forehead. “I’ll get you the best doctors, Boston. You’ll get through this. You’ll be fine. And I’ll be with you the whole time.”
She blinks up at me. “Holding my hand?”
I smile gently. “If that’s what you need.”
“I just need you.”
“Right back at you, babe.” I capture her lips with mine again, kissing her. Moving from her mouth, I kiss her cheek, her forehead, down her nose, and back to her lips. “I love you.”
She runs her fingers through my hair. “And I love you.”
I kiss her one last time, and then I reluctantly break away. I might want to stay like this with her forever, but in reality, she needs to go back to the hospital.
Taylor might look okay on the outside, but I know the inside is a very different story.
“We need to think about moving. I need to get you back to the hospital.”
“Not just yet.” She wraps her arms around me, pressing her face into my chest, holding me tight.
“Babe…” I take hold of her arms, pulling them from around me. Then, I bring my hands up to cup her face.
Her eyes are closed.
“Open your eyes,” I gently command.
She sighs, and there’s a moment of reluctance before she blinks them open.
“You need to go to the hospital.”
“I know. And I will go back. I just want a little more time with you before I do.”
“Boston…” I don’t want to say that time isn’t something we have right now. So, instead, I say, “I’ll be there with you the whole time. I’m not leaving you. We’ll be together at the hospital.”
“Not the whole time.”
I know she’s thinking of the surgery. I’m thinking of the surgery.
I’m afraid for her. I’m afraid for me. But she has to get through this because, for me, there isn’t a world where Taylor isn’t breathing and alive and with me.
“I’ll be with you right until it’s time, and then I’ll be there when you open your eyes. I need you healthy, babe, and the only way that will happen is if I get you back to the hospital. And, as soon as you’re well, I’ll take you on a holiday, and we can spend every second of every day together. And, after that, we can spend our lives together.”
“You mean that?”
“I never say anything I don’t mean. Especially with you.”
She’s staring into my eyes. Emotions are moving so quickly through them that I can’t grab ahold of one.
“Okay,” she breathes. “Let’s go to the hospital.”
“Well, we can either take a cab, or I can call Paul and have him drive us.”
“Where’s your car?”
“It’s currently sitting at Heathrow Airport with a clamp on the wheel.”
Her eyes round. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” I chuckle.
But she’s not laughing. She looks sad.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“It’s my fault.” Her tone dips along with her eyes.
I place my fingers under her chin and tilt her face up to mine. “What’s your fault?”
“Your car getting clamped.”
“And why do you say that?”
“Because you went to the airport, looking for me.”
“Hush.” I kiss her on the lips. “It’s just a clamp.”
“On a million-dollar car.”
One point seven million, but who’s counting? “Boston, the car’s not damaged. It’s fine. And I’ll be getting her back tomorrow. Now, are we getting a cab, or am I calling Paul?”