Until the Last Breath

TWELVE

“Tessa called this morning.” John’s tired voice rises, taking my attention away from the words in my romance novel.

“She did?” I drop the book, snatching up my cellphone. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because it’s the first time you’ve been okay in a while. And earlier you were resting. She understands.”

“What did she say?”

“Not much. She said she had something to tell you but that she’d wait to tell you when you felt better. She sounded excited.” He smiles.

I pick up my phone and go to my list of favorites, calling her right away. She answers on the second ring, her voice chipper. “Shanny!”

“Tessy!” I sing.

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“I’m done with exams and Danny will be in Louisville for the next week and a half so I’m coming to Charlotte!”

“What?” I gasp. “Seriously?”

“Yep! I miss you and can’t wait to come see you.” She breaks away, saying something to someone in the background before addressing me again. “Sorry, I’m getting coffee. Long night. Anyway, listen, I’m going back in a few to finish packing and should be on the road within the hour. I promise to sneak you lots of chocolate.” She whispers the last sentence, knowing John is around and most likely trying to hear everything she’s saying.

I laugh. “Alright. I’ll see you soon.”

I hang up and John looks at me, his eyes inquisitive. “What was that about?”

“She’s coming to Charlotte.”

“Oh.” He fidgets in his chair, scratching the top of his head. “You think that’s a good idea right now?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Tessa stresses you out sometimes. You two argue about the silliest things. The last thing you need is stress…and her sneaking you chocolate. Dr. David said to avoid sweets if you can.”

“John,” I laugh dryly. “Are you serious right now? Why were you listening so hard? She literally whispered the chocolate thing.”

“I’m just looking out for you, babe. That’s all.” He raises his hands in the air, pleading innocence.

I look away from him, blowing out a sigh as I focus on my lap. “Whether she stresses me out or not, I need to see her right now. I miss her.”

“I understand.”

“You can’t be selfish with me, Johnny.”

“I’m not.” He moves closer, holding my hand. “I just want what’s best for you right now.”

“I’m fine,” I insist. “I swear.”

He squeezes my hand, pressing his lips, as if he doubts every word I’m saying. Silence showers down on us, and I blow out a breath, slowly pulling my hand away.

“Who is Max?” He asks the question as if he’s been waiting hours to—like it’s been heavy on his mind and he’s finally getting it out there.

My heart nearly stops beating as I pick my head up to focus on my husband. That name is one that should never come out of John’s mouth. He knows nothing about what Max was to me.

“I saw him say that he’s coming by,” John goes on, trying to pretend he’s curious but clearly bothered.

“Max is a friend. Someone I knew a long time ago. He knows I’m sick.”

“Have I ever met him?”

“No. I knew him years ago. We worked together and were really good friends.” I wave a hand, hoping to dismiss the subject.

“Oh.” He looks down at the hand he has resting on the bed. “Well, I can’t wait to meet him whenever he visits.”

“You know what I want?” I say quickly, changing the subject.

“What’s that?”

“To go home. Back to our cozy, quiet place.”

John’s face tightens and his eyebrows draw together. “Home?”

“Yeah. I just think I should be home right now. You know, comfortable?” I smile weakly, looking around the room. “I don’t feel comfortable here. I feel like a part of the number.”

“But it’s better here. More convenient for you. You have the best doctor in the city. You get the best care. You even said you love Leah—that she’s your favorite nurse.”

“Yes, all of that is true, but nothing beats being at home, John.”

“No, Shannon.” John’s voice is firm as he sits back and folds his arms. “No. We won’t have this discussion. You’re too sick. Attempting to even transport you from the hospital to our house is a risk.”

“For God’s sake, John. Stop treating me like I’m your child!” My voice is louder, the anger transparent. “I am your wife. Not your baby. Not your daughter. Your wife. Don’t you understand that? You should be supporting me, not scolding me about things like this.”

“I know you’re my wife, Shannon, but as your husband and your life partner I need to remind you of what’s best. Being here, surrounded by people that can help you, is best. I would feel much better knowing you’re here during the times that I can’t be around.”

“But you fail to realize that this is not just about you. And you also fail to realize that these people—these doctors that you are treating like gods—cannot bring back the dead. When I die, they won’t be able to revive me. They won’t be able to do jack-shit.” My eyes burn with tears, and not from sadness or pain. Anger. Raw, heart-shattering anger.