Page 38 of The Inn Dilemma (Give a Bookish Girl a Biker)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Nova, A few weeks later…

S omeone is gripping my hand tightly as I wake up. A rhythmic beeping fills my ears, mixing with the background noise of a television that’s somewhere in the room.

I can feel a presence beside me, but when I slowly turn my head, it’s not the profile of my ruggedly handsome boyfriend. It’s Dad. He notices me before I can say anything.

“Why did you do it?” His eyes are filled with tears.

“Do what?” I croak.

Dad hands me a glass of water and puts the straw to my lips.

“We could have lost you. We almost did.”

After drawing in several gulps of water, I answer, “We could have lost you. And after meeting with doctors and confirming I’d be a good and healthy fit, I knew God was calling me to do this.” Then Dad’s entire statement fully sinks in. “What do you mean you almost lost me?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Let’s wait to talk about that when you’re fully recovered.” Dad places a kiss on my forehead. My heart warms at his affection. He sits back but keeps my hand firmly in his.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” I ask.

“It’s been two days since our surgeries. They wanted me to get up and walk around. So I came straight here.”

“Two days? Why am I just now waking up?”

“Focus on gaining your strength again, and I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

I press my lips together, but I acquiesce. “Where’s Holt?” I ask.

“I told him to go home and that I wanted to be the one in here when you woke up. He wasn’t happy about it, but he obliged.”

“Oh” is all I can say.

We sit in pensive silence for several minutes before Dad speaks up again. “I’ll never be able to earn your forgiveness for my failures or pay you back for the gift you’ve just given me.”

I smirk. “It’s a good thing we don’t need to earn either of those things.

I told you already, I’ve forgiven you. And as for the kidney…

” I lift a shoulder. “Well, I don’t want you to miss out on the life God has planned for you.

It’s a little selfish of me, too, because I want to make up for lost time.

I want to do things together we never did when I was a girl because you were too busy at work. ”

He frowns and shakes his head. “That’s the thing. The only way we can make up for lost time is if we can go back to the past and I can do things right the second time around.”

“Dad.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel bad.

I’m telling you this so we can plan for what the future holds for our family.

I mean, you’re going to be a grandfather soon.

I couldn’t let you miss out on time with your grandchild just so I could keep a silly kidney. ”

Dad’s eyes widen. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Is Roxy?—”

Just then, the door opens, cutting off Dad’s words. In strolls Roxy, followed by Christian.

“Am I what?” Roxy asks, setting the ornate flower arrangement on the windowsill.

Dad’s expression morphs into one of embarrassment. “Are you pregnant?”

Roxy and Chris share a look, then look at me. “Did you just ruin our surprise?” she asks, propping her hands on her hips and giving me a pointed stare.

I grimace. “Sorry! I thought you guys told him!” I lift my hand with the IV. “I blame the anesthesia still running through my veins.”

Roxy smiles when Chris wraps his arm around her waist, then looks up at him. The love radiating from both of them makes me giddy.

“Yes, we’re pregnant,” Christian finally confirms.

“I’m not far along, so we’re only telling close friends and family. We were going to tell you and Amanda at family dinner this Sunday,” Roxy tells Dad.

Dad looks between the three of us as if waiting for further explanation.

“We asked Nova to be the baby’s godmother, so she was one of the first to know.”

I can’t help but smile at the memory. Holt and I were out on his back deck with the space heater blowing on us, watching another Audrey Hepburn movie and cuddling when Chris and Roxy showed up.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen my brother smile so big.

They were holding hands, practically clinging to each other, when Roxy blurted out, “We’re pregnant! ” with absolutely no preamble.

I untangled myself from Holt and sprinted to my brother and sister-in-law, wrapping them both up in a firm hug. “Congratulations!” I said as I stepped back.

Roxy’s hand hovered over her middle. “I’m only about eight weeks along, but this one”—she motioned to Christian—“told me he needed to tell his sister and best friend asap. So here we are.”

“Well, I’m honored you came to us first,” I said, looking up at Holt, who came to stand beside me.

He pulled Roxy into a hug, then Chris into a bro-hug. “Congratulations, you two.”

“Thank you,” Chris said, then looked down at Roxy. “Do you want to do the honors?”

Roxy’s smile was wide as she grabbed my hands. “Chris and I were wondering if you’d be the baby’s godmother?” My eyes filled with tears, the magnitude of that moment an additional healing balm I didn’t know I needed.

“I’d be honored,” I said, then pulled my sister-in-law into another hug.

“And there’s no other man I trust more than you.” Chris clapped Holt on the shoulder. “Will you be our baby’s godfather?”

“Of course I will.”

“Well, congratulations are in order.” Dad’s clap pulls me back into the present.

He carefully stands, hobbling his way over to my brother and sister-in-law.

Awkwardly, he spreads his arms open and gives them both a hug.

That’s when I notice his outfit. I rarely saw him dressed down in anything other than slacks and a button-down shirt in public.

Even at home he wore khakis and a polo. Today he’s in sweatpants, a T-shirt, and grippy hospital socks.

He’s never looked more vulnerable, yet I’ve never respected him more or felt more close to him in all my life.

The three of us talk of baby names, nursery plans, and nausea treatments since Roxy has been battling severe morning sickness.

Mom comes in and fusses over me, excited that I’m awake.

She pulls out a tuna salad sandwich she must have gotten from the cafeteria, and the smell permeates the room in the way only tuna can.

Roxy covers her mouth and sprints into the bathroom.

Mom looks at Dad, Chris, and me questioningly. “What’s gotten into her?”

The toilet flushes, and it’s as if the sound alone triggers Mom’s understanding. Her mouth drops open and she practically leaps on Roxy as she comes out of the bathroom looking slightly less peaked than when she ran in.

“You’re pregnant?”

Roxy tries to smile, but I can tell even from across the room that it’s forced.

“Drink some ginger ale,” I offer, pointing to the unopened bottle on the bedside table.

Chris opens it and urges her to take small sips. After a few sips, Roxy’s expression relaxes.

“Yes, I am pregnant,” she tells Mom, then opens her arms as if she fully anticipated the hug Mom then gives her.

A woman whisks into the room. “Hey there, sweetie, I’m your night nurse, Holly.” She walks over to the computer next to my bed and logs in with a beep of her hospital ID. “I heard you gave us quite a scare.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.” My voice is groggy.

“Take some sips of water,” she encourages, lifting the straw to my lips.

“Do you know what happened? No one will tell me.”

She glances to the other side of my bed, and I follow her line of sight. That’s when I notice the hulking man fast asleep in the uncomfortable recliner.

“Thanks to that man, you were able to get a transfusion when you started losing blood.”

My face pales at the realization. “Why wouldn’t they tell me?”

“My best guess is he didn’t want you to have another reason to call him a hero. That boy is too humble, if you ask me.”

I chuckle at that. “You’re telling me. The man saves dozens of orphans, his team, and the pet cat, but he refuses to admit the treasure he is.”

“That’s the perfect word for him. A treasure.”

I gently brush my hand up the arm he has draped next to me. He doesn’t rouse.

“Lucky for you, he has the same blood type as you.”

I turn my attention back to the nurse. “Luck had nothing to do with it. Like everything else in my life, God had all of this worked out before I even knew I was going through with it.”

She smiles so big her eyes shine. “That’s right, sugar. God is always working for us.” She lifts her right hand, and in a beautiful soprano, sings, “Praise Him!”

“Praise Him,” I repeat in my normal voice .

After checking my vitals, my fluids, and making sure I drink more water, Nurse Holly tells me everything looks good and exits the room.

I turn Holt’s hand so it’s palm up and brush my fingers over the SEAL trident tattooed on the inside of his forearm. Then I allow my hand to slide up to his inner bicep, where he has the word “brother” in the same place where my brother now has a matching tattoo in braille.

I had asked Chris about his newest tattoo while I waited for the anesthesiologist to come into my room.

He told me he got the tattoo after he saw Holt for the first time after the explosion.

They weren’t sure if Holt would be able to see again.

The blast destroyed his left eye but left damage to the optical nerves of his right eye.

Thanks to the surgeons and lots of community prayer, his vision was restored in the surviving eye.

Chris went and got the tattoo so it would be ready before Holt got out of the hospital. Then Holt got his shortly after.

Even though the two men chose very different paths in life, they’ve stuck together like brothers from the first day they met.

A low humming sound comes from Holt, followed by the words, “I could get used to waking up next to you.” Without warning, he turns fully in his seat to gently grip my face and pull me into a heart-stopping kiss. My eyes flutter closed, and I get lost in the moment. Lost in Holt.

He pulls back, and I pout like I always do when he’s the one to break our kiss. Holt chuckles, low and deep. “Sorry, Priceless, but I want you to be out of here before doing what I really want to do.”

My face flames at his words. The brazenness I once felt with previous boyfriends is long gone, and even though those desires are stronger than ever with Holt, I know I need to keep them in check.

So instead of focusing on my body’s reaction to this gorgeous man and his kissing expertise, I ask, “Priceless? Is that my new nickname?”

Holt’s lips quirk up to one side. “I think it has a nice ring to it.” Gently, he strokes down my cheek, tilting my chin up to search my face.

“It’s twofold. One, you are my priceless treasure, and two”—his smirk grows wider, and I find myself leaning forward to kiss the scar on his quirked lip.

Before I can do more, he pulls back and goes on as if nothing happened.

“And two, pretty soon your last name is gonna change and you won’t be Price anymore, hence Price-less. ”

My lips part, and I go breathless, unable to form a coherent response.

His voice drops a few octaves. “One day very soon I hope to make you Mrs. Graves.”

My pulse kicks up at that declaration, and I’m finally able to think straight. “Is that a proposal?”

“Oh no, baby. You’ll know when it’s a proper proposal. I wouldn’t dream of giving you anything less.”