Page 46 of The Unraveling

The hinges creak as I open the door, and I spot him in bed on his back. He looks so cozy, with the thick velvet hanging from the four mahogany posts around the mattress, the green duvet as soft as moss. I bite my lip and slip into the room, carefully closing the door behind me.

“Hi, Dr. Todd,” I whisper, my fingers twisting in my skirt. Despite knowing he’s unlikely to hear me in his deep slumber, I like the plausible deniability of being able to say I announced myself, especially those few times he’s been—pleasantly, at least—surprised.

I can’t help the mischievous grin curling my lips as I drag my feet from the hardwood to the soft threads of carpet to make my way to the side of the bed. Ever so slowly, I draw the cool blanket back, the effort it takes squeezing my lungs. My muscles plead with me to collapse, but I don’t want to risk waking him despite knowing he rarely stirs without forceful movements.

A deep sigh leaves me as I slide into bed beside him, draw the covers over myself, and let my head sink into the down-filled pillow. Through heavy lids, I take in his peaceful face. His stillness, with his chest never lifting in slow, even breaths.

It unnerves me from time to time—terrified me the first time I slipped into bed with him. He roused ever so slightly, like the mere idea of someone else crawling in with him was so foreign that it broke through his slumber. But then his shallow breathing stopped, and with his heartbeat so silent that I could never hear it, I couldn’t help my irrational thoughts. I gave him quite the fright when he woke up to me violently shaking him, sobbing with the belief he had somehow spontaneously died.

His laugh was sweet as he wiped my tears and assured me he couldn’t go so easily. He didn’t need to breathe to keep living, and he often slept so deeply, his lungs would stop.

As I scoot closer and lay my head on his silent chest—heartbeat so slow and infrequent, I can do nothing more than trust it’s there—I won’t make such a silly mistake again. Instead, I nuzzle my cheek against Dr. Todd’s cool flesh, now so used to me sleeping at his side that reaching across his bare chest with my arm to squeeze him tight doesn’t disturb him.

“I love you, Victor,” I murmur, reveling in the fact I can use his deep unawareness to practice those words while I wait for him to admit them first.

My eyes slide shut as the floor creaks on the other side of the door. I’m too weak to lift my head, and it takes me a few long moments to reopen my eyes despite the confusion. The door slowly draws open.

A tall man with graying hair and gray-blond scruff enters with a friendly smile and an IV stand with a blood bag dangling from it. I recognize it as one Dr. Todd gives me from time to time with his own blood.

“Who are you?” I ask, squeezing Dr. Todd tighter, unable to help feeling exposed being observed by this other doctor while in the bed of my own.

“I’m Dr. Smith,” he says. “I’m visiting—treating my own patient.”

Movement in the doorway claims my attention, and my friendly smile melts into a frown at the sight of Daisy standing there with tears soaking her cheeks.

My thoughts tangle into a knot, but I grasp a familiar end.

Daisy . . . My very best friend.

“Oh . . .” I want to reach out, but I’m much too comfy to move. My limp arms rest heavy, as if I’m a marionette whose strings have gone slack. “My Daisy. What’s wrong?”

She must be suffering if she’s willing to walk in while my husband and I are in bed.

Daisy hesitates in the doorway, wiping her tears with the heel of her hand. “I’m sad, Isla. Scared.”

My beckoning fingers twitch against Dr. Todd’s chest, but the movement must be too small for her to notice the request.

A cold hand repositions my arm flat, and I flinch at the pinch in my flesh, eyes darting to a man standing at Dr. Todd’s bedside. He adjusts the IV I’m connected to, crimson rushing through it.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

He smiles down at me. “I’m Dr. Smith. I’m here with my own patient. I told Dr. Todd I’d check your IV while you two are sleeping, since I’m up this morning, anyway. Sorry I woke you.”

I bite my lip and lower my gaze, unable to help the creeping heat of embarrassment of being caught in Dr. Todd’s bed.

“You knew I was in here?” I realize.

He nods, and whispers, “Oh, yes. Dr. Todd keeps no secrets from me. He goes on about how much he loves you and how conflicted he is since you’re his patient.”

My eyes widen, and I nuzzle my cheek harder into Dr. Todd’s chest. “He said he loves me?”

Dr. Smith’s brows twitch a bit, like he revealed some secret I wasn’t supposed to know yet. “Yes, but . . .” His eyes flicker to Dr. Todd before he puts his finger over his lips, leaning closer to whisper, “You didn’t hear that from me.”

A weak giggle escapes me. “Oh, I know you. You’re John. Sorry, I’m feeling hazy today. You talk on the phone all the time with Dr. Todd.”

He gives me a single nod. “Yes, that’s me.”

Movement in the doorway catches my attention, and I drag my gaze there.