Finding Him (Covet 2)

Dr. Mark grinned. “Yes, well, the donation was large enough that the donor even hired an interior designer. He felt new decor would help cheer up the patients, along with the family members staying here.”

“Huh, remind me to tell him thank you,” I teased, reaching for Noah’s hand.

“He’s here.” Dr. Mark shrugged. “Somewhere, I think visiting his mother. I’ll relay the message.”

I barely heard what he said because Noah was looking at me like we were going to be okay. Like this was just another unplanned stumble before we hit the finish line and rang the bell cancer-free!

It was going to be fine.

His look told me so.

But I would look back on that moment, I would replay it over and over in my head, until I was sick with it because Noah wasn’t squeezing my hand to tell me everything was going to be okay.

He was squeezing my hand so I knew . . . that he was okay with dying.

Two weeks later, he drew his last breath.

But those two weeks were some of the best of my life, all because some rich person who didn’t know us made the hospital into a home.

It gave us normalcy we didn’t realize we needed.

It gave us the privacy we craved.

And that night, I fell asleep with a smile on my face while Noah held me, fully believing everything was going to be fine because we were in a normal bed.

I was wrong.

I stopped talking.

Julian stared at the computer screen, his face completely white.

“Sorry.” My voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to talk that long. It all just kind of . . . came out.”

“It was perfect.” He still wasn’t looking at me.

“Julian?”

“I didn’t know.”

“What?”

“More than a year ago, the accounting firm I work with told me I had an excess of money I could donate or contribute . . . I chose the hospital because it would make me look good. I donated five million dollars because it would land me in the papers, because it was good business. Don’t you see? I can’t think about it without wondering how fucking selfish a person could be. I wanted praise for donating money, not even realizing that less than a year later I’d be in that same hospital fighting for my life, and unfairly winning while Noah had lost his fight. This right here tells me one thing, Keaton: life is fucking unfair.” He slowly got up from his seat and walked into the kitchen.

“You can’t think about it like that,” I said softly as I followed him. “You know what’s crazy?”

“What?” He didn’t look at me.

I reached for his hand and then bypassed it and cupped his face between my palms. “I don’t pray. Ever. I don’t think it works. I think it’s a fairy tale you believe in so life isn’t so depressing—or at least I used to think that, but that morning I prayed, I prayed for more time with Noah, and then when they let us stay in the family wing, I closed my eyes and I smiled and I thanked God for the stranger with all the money—and prayed he’d know one day how much it meant to have a fluffy pillow and a down comforter, to go to sleep and know that Noah wouldn’t wake up with a sore back in scratchy sheets—crazy how all that time, I was praying for the very man who would one day help me write our story.”

Julian was silent, his eyes glossy.

I leaned up on my tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth. “In case it hasn’t made it into your thick skull, thank you, because even if an act is intentionally selfish—that doesn’t mean it can’t turn into the most selfless thing you’ll ever do.”

Julian stared down at me. “How is it you can make me feel better when I don’t deserve it?”

“You helped a lot of people.”

He looked away from me. “And yet all I was focused on was helping myself, a happy accident, that’s what that is.”

I frowned. “You were at the hospital visiting your mom.”

He stilled. “Caught that part of the story.”

“I bet she was proud of you for doing that,” I said quietly. “Regardless of your intentions, it was a good thing. Own the good thing, ignore the rest.”

He looked at me then, his smile sad. “You deserved more than a fixed-up hospital room in your last days with Noah, you deserved everything.”

Tears filled my eyes. “Good thing my book partner got it for me.”

He started scowling again, which made my chest hurt more than I thought possible. I grabbed him by the face again and pressed a hungry kiss to his mouth.

I had no idea what I was doing.

Making him feel better?

Making myself feel better?

If I was being completely honest, it was this intrinsic need I had to make him smile, to make him understand his own worth. Julian didn’t see himself the way the world saw him.