Page 16

16

Andre

A s soon as we get to the hospital in Brooklyn, Stella makes me use the hand sanitizer twice and then don a blue, disposable surgical face mask handed over by the front receptionist, the same as hers, before we go up to her mom’s room.

I still can’t believe Stella was just going to go out into the freezing cold streets of New York without a ride or a coat, or without telling me her mom had been admitted into the hospital.

Thankfully, I followed the sound of her rushing footsteps, or she would’ve taken off and I wouldn’t have a clue what was going on.

I know it wasn’t personal. Stella was so focused on getting to her mother as fast as possible she didn’t want to catch me up to speed. But it still hurts she wasn’t going to tell me about something so important.

Saint gives us an update as soon as we step into the room before he heads out in a hurry.

While Stella grills her delicate looking mother about why she waited all night and why she didn’t have Saint call her sooner, I shoot my assistant Victoria a message, asking her to arrange for the purchase and delivery of a new mattress tomorrow, like the one she just ordered last week.

* * *

“It’s getting late,” Stella’s mom says around six o’clock that afternoon. “You two should head on home and get some rest. You both look like you need it,” she teases even though I know she feels awful. She’s coughed and gasped for air the whole time we’ve been here.

“It’s not late, and we’re fine. Well, I’m fine,” Stella remarks. I feel her stare on where my feet are propped up on the foot of the bed, ankles crossed while I watch football. “Andre,” she says to get my attention. My name on her lips has my gaze snapping to her blue ones, then to her mom’s and back again.

“Yes, baby?”

Stella’s eyes narrow, and I know she thinks I’m laying it on thick.

“Why don’t you go on home, babe . I’m going to stay here tonight.” Even though the term of endearment is fake, I still love it.

“There’s no need for that. All I’m going to do is sleep. And you can’t possibly sleep in that awful plastic chair,” her mother remarks. “Go home and sleep in a comfy bed tonight, then you can come back by in the morning.”

A hint of a grin spreads across my face at the mention of my bed. Surprisingly enough, Stella seems to be fighting off one of her own before she replies. “I’ll stay here with you.”

Oh hell no. Every cough has her shoulders hitching higher in worry for her mother, and she looks exhausted after our marathon wedding night and mattress slaying.

Getting to my feet, I stretch my arms over my head. Stella watches my purple button-down straining with the movement. She looks a little dazed as she stares at my body until I tell her, “You’re coming with me, even if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you home.”

She blinks at me a few times while I slip on my suit jacket and overcoat.

Arching a single black eyebrow, she says, “I’d love to see you try.”

I nod my head, taking her challenge as consent, then turn to her mother. Going over, I lift her hand without the IV and kiss the top of it. “I hope you’re well enough to go home tomorrow. Call us if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Andre,” Mrs. Rovina says with a warm smile I have no doubt makes Stella want to roll her eyes.

A second later, I stroll around the hospital bed toward my stubborn wife. Before she realizes what the hell I’m doing, I lift her off her feet and throw her over my shoulder, making her grunt in surprise or from the impact.

“Put me down!” she shouts, slamming her small fists into my kidneys.

“Shh, baby, this is a hospital. People are sleeping and recovering,” I remind her in a soft voice.

Her mother laughs, a happy sound that takes some of the fight out of Stella. “Don’t forget her coat,” she says, followed by a hacking cough.

“Got it. Thanks, Mrs. Rovina.” I dip to grab my extra coat and sling it up and over her before I begin striding toward the door.

“Bye, Mom. I love you!” Stella calls as I start for the door, and her mother continues coughing up a lung, unable to say the words back.

She sounds so awful I’m not entirely sure she’ll last through the night. And I know Stella doesn’t want the last time she sees her mother to be while hanging upside down from her caveman husband’s shoulder.

My feet come to a stop. “If I put you down, are you going to come with me willingly?” I ask, unable to help my smirk from the double-entendre.

“Yes,” she promises easily, so I remove the jacket and place her feet back on the ground.

Straightening her blue sweater, Stella then goes to her mother’s bedside to lean over and kiss her cheek.

“Do you need anything before we go?” she asks her once the coughing spell finally ends.

“No, I’m good now. And that’s what the nurses are here for, honey.”

“Okay. I’ll call to check on you again before it gets too late. I love you,” she says again, three words I’d kill to hear her say to me.

Mrs. Rovina smiles up at her daughter and takes her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I love you, too.”

“See you tomorrow?” Stella sounds like she’s asking for a promise her mother will still be here in the morning if she leaves her now.

“See you tomorrow,” Mrs. Rovina replies with enough strength behind her words that I believe her.

With a final smile, she releases Stella’s hand, and my wife walks over to me.

Giving her the spare coat, I then hold out my hand for hers and ask, “Ready?”

She nods and takes it before glancing over my shoulder one last time.

As soon as we make it down the hospital hallway to the elevators, Stella punches our combined fists into my gut, making me grunt in surprise.

“Ow. What the hell was that for?” I ask as we step into the elevator car with two women and three men.

“You’re a dick,” she informs me, not caring about our audience.

“Why? Because I’d rather you sleep on a mattress on my floor than in a neck-breaking chair all night?”

“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” she huffs, then jerks her fingers from mine.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor either. So, that means we’ll be sharing one-half of a mattress. Guess your plan backfired.”

Staring at the numbers as we ride down the floors, she shakes her head in defeat. “Fine. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“It’ll be better than a chair.”

* * *

Stella

After we get back to Andre’s apartment, I gather my brush and toiletries to put them in the guest bathroom — his stupid office’s bathroom — just to be difficult. Then I take a quick shower, readying myself for the first night in a new place.

The hotel was different.

For one, there wasn’t much sleeping. And two, I knew it was temporary, a single night. I could endure literally anything for one night.

Now, I have to get used to an entirely new sleeping arrangement with someone I barely know.

A jackass who is a pain in my ass.

When I return to the bedroom wearing the first tee I found in his dresser, the bedside lamp is the only light on in the dark room. Andre is stretched out on the floor mattress, his phone glowing in his hands and illuminating his handsome face.

It’s surprising to see him down there, but not really. Despite all his bluster, I should’ve known he’d suck it up and let me have the bed.

“You’re welcome,” he mutters before I even comment. “As soon as the new mattress comes in, I’m sleeping on it on top of the box springs.” Which I take to mean he’s already ordered a replacement.

“Fine,” I huff.

“Can you reach the light?”

“Yes.” I climb on the tall bed before I lean over and pull the dangling metal cord to turn it off. Before the room goes dark, I tell my husband, “Good night.”

“Good night.”