Page 17 of A Storybook Wedding

“Well, it’s true, don’t you think?”

I stifle a yawn, feeling exhaustion settle on top of me like a weight. “Honestly? I think that’s true if you’re a reader. You’d be surprised at what books can do when you’re on the other side of the page.” I catch myself, surprised at my own words.

“Hm,” she mumbles into the darkness.

I close my eyes. For some reason, I don’t want to see her reaction to my admission. It feels…vulnerable. Or like I’m some kind of fraud. In the silence, I notice the gurgling in my stomach is gone. I hear the whir of an exhaust fan and the slow drip of my IV.

“Hey, Professor,” she whispers.

I smile at the ceiling. “Just call me Nate, please.”

“Okay. Nate,” she repeats.

“Yes, CJ, how can I help you?”

“You want to know something funny?”

“Sure.”

“This is actually a way better sleeping situation than the one I’m in currently.”

“In the middle of a pocket-size health facility?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, at school, they’ve got me rooming with an elderly woman who I think is plotting to kill me. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the fact that other people got sick too, I would have guessed that she was the one who poisoned my lobster.”

“Who is it?”

“Her name’s Gurt.”

“Haven’t met her yet.”

“Better for you. I’m sure she’s thrilled I’m gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says, yawning.

Several beats of calm pass, and I feel myself drifting in and out of sleep. “You know what?” Cecily whispers.

“Mm?” I reply.

“You’re not so bad after all.”

“Thanks?”

She lets out a sound that’s like a half stretch, half moan. It’s reminiscent of the muted soundtrack of a cat curling up for a nap in the afternoon sun. Cecily carefully removes her glasses, folds them, and sets them on the tray table beside her ginger ale. “You’re welcome,” she says. “Good night, Nate.”

“’Night, CJ,” I say, my heavy-lidded eyes closing involuntarily.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I fall asleep smiling.

CHAPTER 3

Cecily

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