Page 132 of Until the Last Star Fades

Riley’s eyes widened. “That’s not you, is it?”

Ben grinned sheepishly. “Shit, I think I’ve been rumbled.”

• • •

“Mr. Fagan, you shouldn’t be strolling the halls.” Annoyance prickled the male nurse’s words as he snapped the rubber tourniquet around Ben’s upper arm.

“Oww!” Ben scowled. “Flo Nightingale you ain’t, mate!”

“It was time for your blood work and you weren’t here. Your walkabout could’ve delayed surgery.”

Riley smirked, holding Ben’s free hand. “You’re a transplant troublemaker. They’re not going to invite YOU back again.”

“Ahh, story of my life. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”

The nurse stuck a needle into the crook of Ben’s right arm, just above his Pac-Man blue ghost tattoo. Riley flinched and looked away.

“Thhhhhh!” Ben sucked in a breath. “Fuckity bollocks!” He glared wide-eyed at the nurse. “You’re doing that on purpose now, aren’t you?”

His question fell away, ignored as a full vial of blood was removed and an empty one was clicked into its place.

“Well, one thing’s for sure: with the big abdominal scar I’m going to have, my stripping days are well and truly over!”

“In public, maybe.” Riley stared at the wall. Is it over yet?

Ben swallowed several times. “I’d kill for some water, and my stomach is growling like an alien’s about to burst out.”

The nurse untied the tourniquet and pulled out the needle, quickly covering the skin puncture with a cotton ball and a Band-Aid. He nodded at an aide standing in the doorway. “Right, Mr. Fagan, we’re moving you downstairs to pre-op—”

No. Riley’s stomach rolled. “Already?” Eyes flitting between the aide propping open the door and the nurse undoing the monitors from the wall, she loosened her grip on Ben’s hand. “But…my mom has only been in the operating room for thirty minutes—if that.”

“We need Mr. Fagan close to the operating room so we can finish his pre-op prep. The anesthesiologist needs to meet with him again, too.”

Ben fiddled with his phone, lying on the blanket. “Riles can come, yeah?”

The nurse shook his head, untying the patient call button from the bed rail. “We’ll be inserting an epidural catheter in your back to help with pain relief. We don’t allow family there when that’s done. I’m sorry.”

Ben squeezed Riley’s hand as her phone buzzed in her tote. Eyebrows peaked, she whispered, “So…”

“So…” Ben squirmed in the bed. “Riles, please hang on to my stuff? The bag on that chair…” He motioned toward it, lifting his chin.

The nurse handed the bag to Riley and she looped its long strap over her shoulder, next to her tote.

“Oh, phone, too.” Ben placed it in her hand. The bed shook and squealed as the aide unlocked its brakes.

It’s happening too fast… Riley looked up, fighting the urge to cry. “Come back to me, Benjamin Fagan.”

“Hey, that’s a first. I never get asked back!” His wide grin sank into a scared gulp. “Riley, if I—”

“Ben…” She leaned over the rail and ignored the impatient stare of the aide standing behind the head of the bed. “You’ll be all drowsy the next time I see you…” Riley bit her lip, but tears spilled through her lashes and wouldn’t stop. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, and I want you to know…” With a peaceful smile, he swept the tears from her face and caressed her damp cheek. “I’ve never loved any one ’til you,” he whispered. “You were so worth the wait, Hope. You’re my first, my always.”

You’re my last, my always. Riley gasped and met his lips, sharing a lingering kiss flavored with salty tears. She hoped Ben’s final memory before going under would be of kisses and plans for their future together, not tears and worry over what could go wrong. She smiled softly and squeezed his hand. “As soon as you’re feeling better, we’ll tackle that to-do list: dinner at that pub in London, go see a-ha in concert somewhere, see a play at the Old Vic Theatre…”

“It’s a date, gorgeous.” Ben punctuated his promise with a wink that released a tear.

Riley let go of his hand to dry his cheek, but the bed moved forward and Ben was no longer within reach.