Page 125 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

I could hear the nurses giggle at their station, which made me smile.

“Give me kisses,” Peter followed up quickly. “I need Enzo kisses to feel better.”

More giggles from the nurses.

“I won’t recover if I don’t have kisses, Enzoooooooo.”

Instinctively, I wanted to tell Peter to lower his voice and not be so crass in public. Instead, I found myself leaning down, being careful of the tubes and wires, and not push against Peter, and kissed him softly on the lips. I didn’t linger too long, afraid that I might cause harm, but I kissed him deeply enough that if he remembered the kiss later, he’d know I gave it my best, all things considered. When I pulled away, Peter was still making kissing motions with his lips.

Then, he fell asleep, his head rolling to the side, a smile on his face.

I’m uncertain how long I sat there on the side of Peter’s bed, holding his hand, but eventually, I slid my hand from his. A sudden thought entered my brain and I did my best to comb my fingers through his hair and pat it down in an attempt to give him a little more dignity. I didn’t want to leave him, but I had questions that he couldn’t answer—even if he was awake. Making my way over to the nurses’ station, the nurse who had brought me into recovery smiled up at me. The smile wasn’t merely friendly, it was a conspiratorial smile, a shared joke between us about how Peter had been behaving under the lingering effects of anesthesia.

“Bless his heart,” she said. “He’s definitely the friendliest one we’ve had in a while.”

I chuckled, wiping at my nose. The nurse smiled knowingly at me, then reached and pulled a tissue from the box behind her counter and held it out to me.

“Thanks,” I said, wiping at my nose. “Um, he’s okay?”

“Oh,” she waved me off, “he’s great. The best patient I’ve had in weeks. He did great.”

“You’re sure?”

She gave me an empathetic smile. “Absolutely. He’ll be out of here late tonight or first thing tomorrow. Day after tomorrow at the latest. The way he seems, I’m betting tomorrow morning. We like to keep people for twenty-four hours to be sure, but if it wasn’t for the anesthesia, I’d say he didn’t even have surgery, he’s doing so well. He might need your help a bit while he recovers, but he’s going to be just fine. In a few weeks, this will all be an ugly memory.”

Nodding, I exhaled heavily.

“Okay,” I said. “Okay.”

“He’s lucky he had you.”

“I’m lucky to have him,” I mumbled.

She watched me for a moment before speaking again.

“Why don’t you go get something to eat?” she asked. “Get some coffee? Catch a nap?”

“I don’t—” I glanced over my shoulder.

“I’ll make sure he’s taken care of,” she said. “We’ll most likely move him to a private room in an hour or two, and then you can have him all to yourself when you get back. He’ll be awake and lucid then, too. Go get a change of clothes for him to wear home. He’ll appreciate that.”

“The last time I left someone in the hospital to get a change of clothes for them to go home in, they died while I was gone,” I said without thinking first.

When I looked back at the nurse, she was staring at me, blinking in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” I shook my head, a tear rolling down my cheek. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

She rose from her chair and reached across the counter to grab my hands that were resting on the smooth surface.

“You listen to me. Your husband is going to be alive when you get back,” she said firmly, staring into my eyes. “He might be sore and a little grumpy once the anesthesia wears off—most people are—but I won’t let anything happen to him. I promise.”

Nodding, I said, “Grumpy is okay. Alive is all that matters.”

She squeezed my hands and smiled.

“I won’t let you down,” she said. “I promise.”

“Okay,” I chose to believe her.