A Million Different Ways to Lose You (Horn Duet 2)

“Don’t leg go,” he whispered right before we fell asleep.

“Never again,” I whispered back.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I stayed at the apartment as long as I could with the excuse that I wanted to make certain he was eating properly and gained back most of his strength. Truth was, I didn’t want to leave. How I accomplished it for a month was beyond me. How I existed before we met was even a greater mystery.

The day I moved back to my flat he was super quiet, following me around the apartment as I tidied up.

“When are you going back to work?” I asked. Sitting at the counter, he watched me organize the freezer with the meals I had prepared for him.

“Tomorrow.”

“So soon?”

“I can’t stay in this apartment another minute…especially now that you’re leaving.” In the silence, I glanced at him and found him looking like a whipped puppy––or maybe more like a whipped tiger. “You don’t have to go,” he argued quietly.

“I expect you to eat everything. The containers are labeled.” This was the most difficult part, holding to the plan when every cell in my body rebelled at the thought of being separated from him. “I have to. You know I do.” The forlorn look on his face almost had me rethinking my decision. Almost.

“When can I see you?”

“You’re my husband. You can see me whenever you want.” That seemed to appease him, the tense look on his face relaxing to some degree.

“I’ll pick you up for dinner at the clinic.” His words hung in the air, a challenge, a promise––definitely not a question. I stopped what I was doing to see what his face told me. The look he wore made me smile. Determination. It was all over him. His strength of will had always awed me. When he put his mind to something, he was an unstoppable force.

“I’ll expect you by six thirty,” I doubled down, and the predatory glint that I saw in his eyes told me he was up for the challenge.

“I’ll be there.”

With his hands on his hips in a defiant stance, Yannick glared––there’s no other way to describe it, it was a glare––at my beloved husband. The same husband that only a moment ago looked all soft and in love, at present looked like he was about to commit bloody murder.

“What’s he doing here?” The sweet inquiry was leveled at me with a deep v etched on Yannick’s brow.

“He’s my husband. He can hang out here all day if he damn well pleases.” My push back seemed to do the trick. I pressed my case. I knew that if I didn’t assert the rules firmly, these two dolts would’ve gone at it ad infinitum. “You two need to sort this out. I am sick and tired of drama. I love my job and I love my husband. Those two things are not mutually exclusive. I’d like to keep both. I would also like to get through a single week without any yelling, accusing, or fighting going on…are we clear? NO. MORE. DRAMA.”

A long, contemplative pause ensued. And then Yannick turned his formidable attention on said husband. “Are we going to have a problem?”

“I don’t know––are we?” Sebastian stood a little straighter, his arms crossed in front. I noticed as soon as he walked through the door that he didn’t have his cane with him. I’m pretty certain that was not a coincidence.

“Because I can’t afford to lose her. I lose everybody and I won’t lose her.” I could feel the faint prickle of heat on my collarbone.

“Same goes here.”

An epic silence followed, along with a lot of staring each other down and sizing each other up while I sat by clueless. Was this some kind of native masculine language that females weren’t privy to?

“Make yourself useful, and help her change the bed linens.” And with that, Yannick turned on his heels and marched to the next examination room.

Sebastian’s confused expression made my lips curl between my teeth, fighting the laughter that threatened to burst out of me.

“He always like this?”

“Always,” I confirmed, fully chuckling.

“Let’s get going.”

“Certainly––after you help me with the bed linens,” I chided. He grumbled the whole time we worked. But when we left later that evening, arm in arm, a big smile lived on his face.

By early morning, the snow was already falling steadily, dampening the blast of car horns and the vroom of buses. Fat, fluffy snowflakes, some the size of a fist, turned the busy city into an enchanted wonderland. By late afternoon it was up to my knees and still coming down hard. With cashmere hat and gloves on tight, I took my time walking to the corner store to do some grocery shopping, enjoying how romantically beautiful the city looked. Tilting my head back, I let the snowflakes cover my face and hang on my eyelashes, laughing as I licked them off my lips and replayed the scene that had transpired that morning in my head.