Elude (23 page)

The nurse with the needle and kind eyes told me it would take a few hours to get the results back from the lab. Luckily, everything would be done on site so I wouldn't have to wait very long.

In the meantime, my only job was to not fall on my ass and make sure I powered through the pain so Andi didn't find out. The last thing I needed was her getting suspicious.

It would mean pestering.

And questions.

And it would be exhausting.

"Hey!" Tex said from the door. "You're alive!"

I gave him a thumbs up.

"Did they stick a catheter up your—"

"Mr. Smith?" The nurse gave Tex a wary eye and sidestepped him. "Your discharge papers."

"Ma'am." Tex nodded his head and gave her what I'm sure he thought was a reassuring smile, but he bared way too many teeth.

She took a step away from him and handed me my papers. "Now remember, you may be sore for a day or so. If you have any excessive bleeding, please come back to the hospital."

"Great." I winced and rose from the hospital bed. "You'll call with the results?"

"As soon as we have them." She flashed a smile and left the room, careful to give Tex a wide berth.

"Huh." Tex scratched his face. "Is it because I'm tall?"

"Your gun's showing." I pointed.

He looked down.

"Kidding." I laughed; it kind of hurt, but the look on his face was worth it.

"Jackass." Tex punched me in the shoulder. "Seriously, you feeling okay? They didn't switch your man parts out for girl parts or do anything freaky, right? That nurse looked a bit handsy…"

"No bad touching." I rolled my eyes. "Not that I would have cared. I was on drugs, you know."

"Clearly not enough if you can still hold a conversation with me."

I winced as I took a step toward him. "Don't suppose you'd give me a piggyback ride?"

"Burn in hell."

"That's what I thought." I bit back a curse and finally met him at the door. "You know, Nixon would at least have given me a high five or something."

Tex nodded. "You're right." He slammed his fist into my shoulder. "Good job. You lived."

"Now who's the ass?"

"Don't forget it, bitch."

The nurses had horrible timing in that hospital, plain and simple; we scared at least two more on the way out when Tex started clapping behind me and yelling, "Mush!"

He needed a kid to torture. I almost felt sorry for Mo; no wonder she was packing half the time.

"How did Andi's appointment go?" I asked once we were out in the parking lot.

Tex's face didn't give away anything, but his body tensed. Every single muscle seemed to stand at attention.

"Shit."

"What?" He shrugged. "I didn't say anything."

"Didn't have to," I muttered, trying to will my body to get into the car without my hip actually breaking off my body. Damn, walking hurt more than it should have. Hell even breathing hurt more than it should have.

Tex, probably irritated with my turtle-like speed, came over and helped shove me very lovingly into the passenger side of the car and nearly slammed the door on my foot.

Once we were both in and driving out of the hospital, he spoke again. "Look, all I know is that Mo sent me an
I love you
text. It's not that I don't get those type of texts, but lately she only sends them when she's really upset about something, like she doesn't want me to forget we're a team and— Why the hell am I sharing this with you?"

"No idea," I muttered, "but for what it's worth… thanks."

"Serg…" Tex tapped his fingers against the steering wheel then gripped it tightly with both hands. "I have a bad feeling."

I swallowed the hollow feeling in my chest and glanced out the window so he wouldn't see the fear in my eyes. "Yeah, Tex. Me too."

****

"Sergio…" A soft voice said my name, whispered it in my ear. "…wake up."

I shook my head and hugged the pillow tighter.

"Wake up, and I'll show you my boobs."

"Huh?" I mumbled, blinking my eyes open.

Andi was hovering over me, her smile wide. "You've been sleeping for a really long time."

"What?" I covered my yawn with my hand. "What time is it?"

"Well…" She grabbed my hand and read my watch aloud. "…six at night."

"Shit!" I tried to jolt up then remembered that I'd already met with Nixon, and because Andi had been out with the girls, he'd agreed to drop me off at my house so I could sleep in my own bed. "I'm so sorry."

She frowned. "For sleeping? Right… you should be."

Six. Six meant the hospital had to have called. I frantically searched my pockets for my phone.

"Whoa. You okay?" Andi sat on the bed and tucked her feet under her body.

"Yeah." I finally located my phone on my nightstand. One missed call. "I just… was expecting someone."

"Oh, your other lover." She winked.

"She's a redhead." I nodded solemnly. "Hates Russians. Loves cats though."

"Ah, so she has that going for her."

I smiled and held up my phone to my ear.
"Mr. Smith, this is Nurse Holingway. While I'd much rather have this conversation in person, I understand you need the test results as soon as possible. It appears we won't have the final results for another twenty-four hours. If you are somehow a match, we will need to start the process sooner rather than later, as your wife's condition has, as you know, worsened. Expect to hear from us soon."

I dropped the phone onto the bed.

The room was silent.

Andi cleared her throat and reached for my hand. "Everything okay?"

I jerked my hand away. "What happened at your appointment?"

"Well…" She bit down on her lower lip. "…I tried to convince my doctor to try the entertainment industry again."

"Andi…"

"And…" She sighed. "…the girls came and rescued me."

"Andi…"

Her face fell. I reached for her hand, this time squeezing it tight.

"It's not good, Sergio. I kind of have the black lung and all that."

"This isn't
Zoolander.
"

"Wow!" She tilted her head in appreciation. "Points for the movie reference. See? You're not that old!"

"Andi!" I yelled her name, not because I was angry, but because I knew her, backward and forward. She was trying to let me down lightly, trying to make light of a very serious situation. "What did he say?"

Her brown eyes filled with tears. "It's in my lymph nodes… and they found a few spots in my lungs. I can't do chemo. The chances are pretty rare that it would help in the first place. Once you've done it, your body doesn't respond as well the second or third time."

"And a donor?"

She shrugged.

"Andi, I have something to tell you."

"Can we not?" She wiped away a few stray tears. "At least for the next hour, can we just lie here? Can you just hold me? I don't want to talk about it, not yet… please?"

I sighed heavily. "Yeah." No use in upsetting her more. But we would have that conversation. And it would be soon. If there was a chance at saving her, I was going to take it, even if I died trying.

"Kiss me." She pressed her hands against my shoulders and pushed me against the bed, straddling my body with her legs.

I was finding it extremely hard to stick to my promise, to not shed any tears. I had to be strong for her, for us. "Kiss you, huh?"

"Yes." I would never get tired of her smile, of the way it lit up her entire face. Shit, the way it lit up my entire world.

I brought her head down and met her mouth with mine in a tender, desperate kiss. Every touch inflicted a slow-burning fever of need — not to just kiss her, to make her mine again and again — but to mark her, to possibly mark her so hard that she stayed with me.

Logic, numbers… hell, even reality told me that it was an impossibility. That no matter how hard I kissed her she wouldn't stay, but I had to try, right? I would be foolish not to.

So I kissed her harder.

I dove deeper into the madness of our feelings — the desperation of the love I felt for her.

When the kissing wasn't enough, I pulled her shirt over her head, my fingers making a slow trail down her stomach, memorizing that feeling right there and holding onto it, just in case.

She didn't fight me. She didn't even flinch when I started slowly pulling down her yoga pants.

"Andi," I whispered against her lips, "I have to tell you something."

"What?" Her hands cupped my face.

I was lost in that look, the very look that said she loved me, would die for me, knew she was but wanted to take that risk anyway — the risk that before death her heart would be broken, and she wouldn't get a second chance to fix it or to allow me to put the pieces back together again.

Had there ever been a love like ours before?

I doubted it.

And if there had been, I pitied those people, because every touch felt like the last… when it should have been the first of many.

Every kiss that should have been hello was goodbye.

Once her pants were dangling by her ankle, I reached for her bra and removed it. "You're too beautiful for me."

"For an Italian like you?" she countered, then slid off her underwear and crawled on top of me, her breasts pressing against my chest. Andi kissed up my neck, her hands drawing my T-shirt over my head and tossing it aside.

I closed my eyes and ran my hands slowly down her hips, my fingers pressing into her soft skin. With a sigh, I took her mouth in a slow, agonizing kiss, a kiss that I had a hard time stopping — because stopping meant ending, and ending just reminded me of the time that kept slipping through our fingers.

"Sergio?"

I opened my eyes and paused while my heart cracked against my chest.

"It's okay to be scared, right?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice. "Yes." I tucked her hair behind her ears. "But we're together. When you have a partner, things are less scary because suddenly you aren't facing giants all by yourself."

"I like the idea of facing them with you." She sniffed and looked down. A single tear slid down her cheek and landed on my chest.

It may as well have been acid; I felt the burn of that tear in the depths of my soul, crushing in its weight, devastating in its truth.

I kissed her harder, deeper. Our bodies slammed against one another. With a grunt, I flipped her onto her back and kissed between her breasts, sliding my hands down her legs. I refused to stop until I gave her every ounce of pleasure she deserved.

She cried out when my hand slid between her legs.

"I thought you just screwed," she said, breathless.

I retreated then pressed forward again, this time replacing my hand with my mouth.

Every arch of her body, every whimper was music to my ears. When she was finally ready for me, our bodies slid together in a perfect match.

I moved, deeper, harder.

Andi's eyes closed.

I could have sworn in that moment I felt the air; I could taste its bittersweet reminder that time was against us.

It wasn't just about sex.

Not anymore.

Not ever, if I was being completely honest with myself.

It was about sharing every single part of my soul — my body — with her, and hoping she did the same with me.

Because she was it.

We were quiet, passionate; both of us realizing we were experiencing one of those rare moments in life where words were useless and actions meant everything.

Her hands clenched my arms as I continued my slow, languid movements, taking time to relish each sensation of our bodies connecting, communicating. It was bliss — it was everything.

"Feels so…" She exhaled. "…good."

"Italians are always good."

"Had to joke," she hissed, her nails digging into my flesh. "Sergio, I'm—"

I felt her body clench around mine as a shudder wracked her body. I watched, absolutely dumbstruck by the beauty before me and utterly wrecked that it wouldn't last.

"Andi…" Sweat trickled down my cheek and landed on her bare stomach. My body soon followed hers as I collapsed onto the bed, trying not to crush her. "…I love you."

Her hand drew slow circles along my back. "I know."

I lifted my head. "That's it? You know?" I smiled tightly. "Harsh, Russia."

"Let me finish." She pressed a fingertip to my lips. "I love you too. And I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

She shrugged. "My love is short."

"No." I shook my head and gripped her hands between mine. "Just because our love feels short doesn't mean it is. Our love is forever."

Andi

I WATCHED HIM SLEEP. I WASN'T
sure I believed in heaven. I'd seen too many horrible things in my short life — but if heaven was real, Sergio had to be a gift from above, because he was everything I didn't know I even wanted.

And at the same time needed, more than oxygen.

His breathing was heavy. He'd woken me twice in the middle of the night, both times kissing me, making love to me, not caring that I was fragile, but acting like he was desperate for every inch of my body.

I was exhausted.

In the best way possible.

He mumbled in his sleep and turned on his back. That silly scar stared back at me — I stuck out my tongue — his one imperfection if you could even call it that.

The longer I stared, the sadder I became. Tears soon filled my eyes as a thought occurred. I wouldn't get to stare at the scar much longer, and soon, well hopefully, he'd be able to move on — to live his life — and someone else would be sleeping in my place, staring at that scar, wondering about its story.

It was an eerie feeling.

Knowing that the sheets would be, and should be, warmed by another body, by another soul.

I wished in that moment I had control over what would happen when I was gone, or that I could at least help him.

An idea popped into my head.

A slow smile met the tears streaming down my face. "Oh, Sergio, you're either going to love me more or hate me. But at least you'll be forced to live, and that's the greatest gift I could ever leave you."