Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2) (6 page)

He let out an audible shudder. “I can’t believe she chose this day. Of all the days to shop, she had to pick this one.”

“Maybe she wants a bargain?” I offered up as a reason his mother would drive into the city on Black Friday, the busiest shopping day of the year, to spend the day with her son.

“A deal? At Bloomingdale’s and Saks? I doubt that.”

“Well, maybe she just misses you. We did ditch her on Thanksgiving this year—and there is the little issue of Christmas.”

He rolled his eyes, rising from his spot on the bed, and he walked toward the closet. I took the time to appreciate his backside, covered only in boxers. He was just as handsome as the first day I’d met him—tall, muscular with a hint of danger swirling around those black tattoos angling down his arm.

“We did not ditch her. I asked if she wouldn’t mind if we had dinner here. She chose to stay in the country with friends.”

“I know. She told me, and she was actually excited about it. She said it was the first time she wouldn’t have to worry about planning a menu in years. Notice that I didn’t say
cook.
” I laughed.

“She never cooked, but she’d still make herself sick while planning every damn detail for the holidays. She wanted everything to be absolutely special for us.”

“And was it?” I asked, picking my plate back up to gobble up the last of my potatoes.

“Of course. She loved seeing us happy.”

“Runs in the family,” I said.

“Well, some of us,” he commented.

“Give him time, Jude. He might surprise you just yet.”

“Maybe, but I’m not holding my breath.”

As he returned to the bathroom to shower, my attention turned to the windows near our bed. I couldn’t help but look out onto the city and wonder if, somewhere in that sea of people, someone was out there for Roman, someone who could find the man I knew he wanted to become.

The first time I had gone swimming in the ocean was about a year ago. Jude and I, back from our adventures in Ireland, had flown to Santa Monica to visit my mom and Marcus for the weekend.

We’d spent two days with them, enthralling them with stories and pictures of our visit to the Emerald Isle. Of course, I couldn’t say no when they’d begged me to share the epic way in which Jude had proposed to me. It had been a lovely weekend, and it had gotten even more perfect when Jude asked me to take a walk along the beach that Sunday afternoon.

We’d dipped our toes in the ocean, remembering the first time we’d been here together.

Suddenly, he’d said, “Let’s go swimming!”

“Like right now?” I’d asked, not bothering to cover my laughter.

“Yeah. Why the hell not?”

I’d had no answer, so on that seasonably hot afternoon in September, we’d jumped into the waves, fully clothed in the warm ocean. I’d never felt the surge of water hitting my chest, and I’d had no idea how to duck under an oncoming swell of white water.

I remember holding my breath as we’d dived further into the surf and that wonderful gasp of fresh air that had followed as we broke the surface once again.

Since my heart transplant, I’d experience that same feeling each and every time I visited the doctor.

Sitting in this uncomfortable green chair, my foot nervously bobbing up and down, was like sitting at the bottom of the ocean. I felt like I hadn’t taken a single breath of air since I left home.

So far, I hadn’t had a reason to doubt anything, yet that was exactly what I did.

Everything was perfect. I was finally living beyond the walls of the hospital. I was in love, and in less than a month, I’d be married to a man who had made all of this possible.

So, of course, I expected everything to go wrong.

I never shared these fears with anyone, especially Jude. I knew it was most likely ridiculous, but I had spent the majority of my life thinking I wouldn’t make it past my twenty-fifth birthday. It was a hard notion to shake.

These checkups were like my monthly pat on the back. It was the reassurance I needed to get through the next thirty days, knowing my heart was pumping and nothing was going wrong in my perfect slice of heaven. I’d fought with Marcus—well, everyone—about the frequency of the appointments. Marcus, my lifelong doctor and now stepfather had won in the end though. Every month was excessive, but to be honest, it was nice to know I was still healthy, still whole. It was like playing monopoly and getting one of those jail passes every four weeks.

What were they called?

Maybe I should have added Monopoly to my Someday list.

“Lailah Buchanan?” the young blonde nurse called, peeking her head out from a door across the waiting room.

I stood and walked briskly past the other patients to join her.

She ushered me back to an exam room. “How have you been feeling?”

We settled into the small white room after checking my weight. I stepped up to the table and took a seat, hating the way the paper crinkled and crunched with every slight adjustment.

“Good,” I answered.

“Nothing different? No changes we should know about?”

I shook my head as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Not really. Maybe a bit of additional stress from wedding plans and finals coming up but nothing out of the ordinary.”

Her mouth curved into a slight smile as she tucked the tip of the stethoscope into the crook of my arm. “When is the big day?”

“December sixteenth,” I replied.

“Oh, wow. That’s soon!”

“I know. I can’t wait.”

She finished her routine of preliminary checks, taking vitals and writing them into my chart.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck. The doctor will be in shortly.”

She stepped out, and I was left alone to stare at the walls and pick at my nail polish.

How many minutes and hours of my life had been spent waiting on doctors?

The time lost was something that would most likely make others mad, enraged even. A fraction of my life had probably been wasted away in this exact position, waiting.

Always waiting. In retrospect, it wasn’t all that bad.

I was healthy.

And I was alive.

I’d gladly stare at a thousand more dingy white walls and pick apart a million more manicures while I sat waiting for a specialist to come in and examine me as long as the end result was the same.

“Hey, Lailah!” Dr. Hough greeted happily as he walked through the door before taking a seat.

“Hi. Happy belated Thanksgiving,” I said. “No Black Friday shopping for you today, I’m guessing?”

His smile turned into more of a grimace. “No, thank you. I’d much rather be here with my patients. Although, I think I’m in the minority.”

“Well, I appreciate you coming in, especially on a holiday.” I winked.

Dr. Zachary Hough was one of the best cardiac surgeons in the state. This, paired with the fact that Marcus and Dr. Hough had been roommates in college, had made him an excellent candidate to take over my care once I’d made the decision to move across the country. It had been a tricky decision, especially for someone who had just undergone a heart transplant, but luckily, my medical team at UCLA had been willing to make it work, and everything had transitioned smoothly.

Dr. Hough had worked closely with my doctors back home, and he still spoke with them, providing updates and taking guidance if needed. If something were to go wrong, I had no doubt in my mind that he would be able to handle it.

“So, how’s the new ticker doing?” he asked, scrolling over the latest lab work results I’d gotten done a few days prior.

“Everything is great,” I answered.

“Good.”

Silence fell as he continued to read through everything, and I watched in apprehension as his finger thumbed through the pages, tracing over numbers and summaries.

He looked up at me, and our eyes locked.

The walls began to feel like they were closing in, and my breath constricted in my chest.

“Well, everything looks good, kid.”

Air filled my lungs as I swam to the surface of relief.

Thank God.

“You’re sure?” I asked.

“You ask that every time,” he replied, shaking his head back and forth. “You’re doing great. Just keep taking your meds and stay active but not too active,” he said with a grin. “Stay away from sick people, especially now that flu season is coming. And what is the last thing?”

“Enjoy it,” I answered, knowing exactly what he’d say.

“Exactly. Now, get out of here. You have a wedding to plan, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir. I just got your RSVP. I’m so glad you’ll be able to attend.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, kid,” he answered.

I hopped off the table and smoothed out the back of my skirt, only to rise up on the tips of my toes to give the big beast of a man a hug. “Thank you,” I said softly.

“Anytime. Oh, and on your way out, tell the receptionist to schedule you for after the first of the year.”

“What?” I asked in confusion. I always came once a month, like clockwork.

“You’re doing great, Lailah. Go enjoy your honeymoon. We’ll be here when you get back.”

“Okay.”

I made my next appointment for the middle of January and headed off to find Jude and his mother in the midst of their shopping spree.

As I walked down the streets of New York by myself—something I’d never even imagined I would be able to do—I took a deep breath and reminded myself that everything was just fine.

Too much good in your life didn’t mean the rug was about to be pulled from beneath you.

I just needed to take a deep breath and trust—trust myself and this new heart beating inside my chest.

EVERY FEMALE WITHIN a two-block radius saw the sleek black car pulling up to the curb. The second glances and hopeful looks I received when stepping out of the limo, carrying a dozen red roses in my hand, were priceless.

Sorry, ladies. These are not for you.

I’d only met Lailah on campus for lunch a handful of times, but I knew her routine. She was a creature of habit and loved to walk under the Washington Square Arch on Fifth Avenue. Even if her classes were blocks away, she’d always manage to find some excuse to bring her back to this place.

I’d once asked her why she loved it so much.

She’d smiled, her eyes looking off in the distance, as she formed her answer. “I don’t know honestly. I think it just reminds me that I’m really here.”

I planted myself just under the arch, leaning against the stone, and I waited. It didn’t take long before I spotted her, bundled up in a long wool coat. Under a knitted hat, her blonde hair peeked out the sides, falling around her face like straw. She moved gracefully among the crowds of tourists and students with her backpack on one shoulder as she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

It took several moments for her to spot me, but I knew the instant she did. Her eyes lit up, and her smile grew wide with surprise.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, throwing herself into my arms.

“Obviously, I came to surprise you. I wanted to be here to congratulate you on another semester finished!”

“Thank you!” she replied. “It feels amazing! But it’s not as amazing as getting married! Do you realize that, by this time tomorrow, we will be hitched?”

“Hitched?” I laughed at her word choice.

“Yep, hitched—to tie the knot, to wed . . . I could go on.”

“So smart,” I commented, holding out the bouquet of roses in front of her. “These are for you, by the way.”

“They’re beautiful, Jude. Thank you.” She took them in her hand, leaning forward to inhale their sweet smell, before taking my hand.

“You hired a limo?” she exclaimed as we reached the curb.

“Well, it is a special day.” I grinned.

Shaking her head, she reached her free hand into the pocket of my jacket and pulled me closer. “You’re too much, Mr. Cavanaugh.”

“Just about right, I’d say.” Unable to stand a second longer without her taste, I bent down to kiss her, savoring the warmth and tenderness.

“Just a few more of those left as a single man,” she joked.

“Are they different as a married man?” I shot back, opening the door for her.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.” She leaned forward again, brushing her lips against mine. “Tomorrow,” she added with a smile.