Page 138 of Until Midnight

Sam had offered to help Kate get dressed, but Kate had thanked her and said no. There was only one person she wanted to do this with her, and that was Conor. He had held her, fed her, loved her in ways she had never imagined possible. Even though it might have traditionally been the maid of honor’s role to help the bride get ready, Kate knew she wanted only Conor.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I didn’t think I was going to make it,” she said, her voice shaking. “Back in the hospital—not the first night, maybe the second—I died, didn’t I? I heard the nurses call a code, I felt the paddles on my chest. Or did I just dream that?”

“You didn’t dream it,” Conor said, taking her hand.

“You know how you hear stories about when people die, or almost die, they go toward the light?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I didn’t go toward the light,” she said, swallowing hard. “I went toward you.”

“Kate . . .”

“I felt myself dying,” she said. “And all I could think about was, I want to see Conor again. I want him to have the most beautiful life, but when it’s over, I want us to be together. I was seriously prepared to kick the bucket. And then, you know what?”

“What?”

“I was in that tunnel, and the white light at the end, and I said no way. So I turned around, and instead of going toward the light, I went toward you.”

Conor put his arms around her. She felt his heart pounding through his chest. “Do you know when that was? What day?”

“I have no idea,” she said.

“I think I know,” he said. “There was one night when I was really afraid. You were on life support. Your heartbeat was so weak. Kate, I could feel you leaving me. And I held your hand and just kept saying—stay, stay with me. Just one more day. If you can make it until midnight, you’re going to be okay. And you did—you made it until midnight, and then it was the next day, and the day after that, and now we’re here.”

Kate closed her eyes. She swore she could remember that night: hearing Conor begging her to stay with him, asking her to marry him. She was sure it was his voice, those words, that had made her decide it wasn’t time to die, that she wanted to turn around and return to life. Return to Conor.

“Are you ready?” he asked after a minute.

“Not quite,” she said.

“Is this too much?” he asked.

“Not at all,” she said. She wrapped her arms around him, eased him down onto the bed so they were facing each other. She kissed him and wished the kiss could go on forever. They stayed there for a long time, holding each other.

Outside the Ocean House, the wind was howling. The snow fired off the Atlantic Ocean. It drifted on the long white sands of East Beach. It covered Bluff Avenue, obscured the view of the harbor down the hill. It tapped against the hotel windows. Kate and Conor lay together, looking into each other’s eyes, and this time, she asked him:

“Are you ready?”

“I am,” he said.

So they stood up and held hands. Upstairs, in the living room of the Tower Suite, their guests were waiting. Tom had offered to walk Kate up the stairs, give the bride away, but Kate had said no. There was only one person to do that.

Conor.

So the bride-to-be took the arm of her betrothed, and Kate Woodward and Conor Reid walked slowly up the stairs on their way to be married.