Page 164 of Family Affair

Chapter 38

Frank came to her at night.

A dark shape in the darkened room, a warm presence amidst cold clinical equipment. A hat was pulled low over his dark intense eyes, covering his winged brows.

Sheknewhim, the moody, introverted, and contemplative man, the salt of this earth with his unquestionable loyalty and considerable willpower. With every fiber of her being, she had alwaysfelthim, and the feeling was alwaysright.

Coco swam in and out of consciousness. Her wounded side hurt in a distant throb, the drugs keeping the worst of it at bay.

She hadn’t heard him come in. How long had he been standing over her? Was he even there? Or did her clouded mind conjure up an image she so desperately longed to see?

“Are you really here?” she croaked, and heard her hoarse voice as if from afar.

“Of course,” he answered, low. He had the honeyed Southern inflection, just like she always imagined he would.

“Are you going to stay?”

“Of course,” he repeated. “Where would I go?”

“Back to heaven?” Coco said in all seriousness.

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Never been there before. I hear it’s awfully far away. I’d rather hang around here for a while longer, with you.”

“Okay.” Coco wanted to nod, satisfied, but only managed to lower her eyelids. Fighting the pull of the drugs, she forced her eyes to open back up.

He approached the side of her bed and carefully lowered down to sit on the edge. His weight made the mattress dip, wonderfully heavy. Wonderfullyreal.

“I heard your surgery went well. How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a truck,” she said with all honesty. Pretense, even polite white lies, seemed obscene at this moment. Frank would not want untruths, however small. She knew it on a subliminal level.

He cursed. “Stupid secrets. They almost took you away from me. I hate it, Coco. I wish I could take on your pain.”

“Don’t.” She swished her head on the pillow in a feeble denial. “You’ve hurt enough.”

“Not enough. It hurts to see you suffer. It hurts more than any physical pain.”

He suddenly buried his face in his hands on a shuddering breath, fighting the onslaught of anguish. Coco’s heart broke for him. He’d been through so much, and now she was the cause of the shattering distress he was falling under. Yet his mere presence stitched her together.

“I’ll be well soon, you know.” She reached out and touched his wrist, her own arm heavy and difficult to move. “Just… stay. Don’t go.”

He captured her hand in both of his and held it gently. “I won’t go. Not for a little while. Sleep. You need rest.”

He closed his eyes and slowly leaned down and brushed a feather light kiss across her lips, and held his mouth there, pressed against her. Their breaths mingled, warm and imbued with each other’s essence.

And it clicked: This. Was. Real. Not an illusion, not a dream, not her active inflamed imagination.This man was real.

He lifted his head, ungluing their lips. The dark pools of his eyes slowly opened, revealing a swirling depth of emotion.

Coco lifted her hand and pulled his hat off, marveling anew at the dear shape of his dense eyebrows and the widow peak neatly centered above his forehead.

“Frank,” she whispered brokenly. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but the multitude of emotions churning inside of her robbed her of the ability to think. The potent love for him overwhelmed, choked her.

He gently laid two fingers across her mouth. “He doesn't exist. He never will. For all that matters, Frank died that stormy night, many years ago.”

“No. No. It isn’t true. He has changed over the years, that’s all.” She lightly touched his chest above his heart. “Your spirit lives on. I know because I’ve felt it. ”

His gaze grew shuttered. “You’ve built a fantasy.”