Page 53 of It Happened In Paris

Her eyes slowly blinked, glistening with moisture. “Did it hurt him?”

“Maybe a little,” I whispered, “but he said he’d do it all over again, just to be with you.”

“I want to see him.”

“As soon as the nurses give the okay,” I replied, gently tucking a stray lock of hair from her forehead. I had been in his room when he awoke from anesthesia. “He’s been asking about you, too.”

“Was he brave?” she asked quietly.

I swallowed hard. “Yes, baby. He was.”

She offered a faint smile as her eyes closed once more. I watched her slip into sleep as if she were floating—her breathing eased, alive, and on the path to recovery.

Eventually,the nurses wheeled Richard’s bed into Paris’s room while she was asleep, positioning the two beds so close that I could stand between them and touch both. Despite looking pale, he smiled and reached his arm across toward her.

“How is she?” he asked as soon as I stepped between them.

“She’s tired, but doing well,” I replied, keeping my voice calm despite the inner turmoil. “Every time she wakes up, she asks about you.”

When Paris suddenly stirred, he softly said, “Hey there, my little explorer,” his voice still rough from the anesthesia.

“Daddy, I missed you,” she said hoarsely.

“I missed you even more,” he replied warmly.

“Mommy, I want cupcakes,” she whined sleepily. I wasn’t sure she even knew what she was saying yet, still under the effects of anesthesia.

“Believe me, sweetheart, when we get home, I’ll make you the best cupcakes ever.”

Richard squeezed my hand. “Make sure she gets the most perfect cupcake. I’ll settle for the second best.”

“Looks like I’ll have to make two perfect cupcakes, then. Challenge accepted.” I attempted humor.

The machines continued their rhythmic hum as they held hands. I moved closer, kissing her curls as she drifted back to sleep, then turned to Richard.

He looked up at me and whispered, “Thank you.” His eyes were tired but shone brightly.

“For what?” I asked, gently stroking his fingers.

“For giving me her. She’s the most precious gift. Listen, I want to talk to you about—” Richard began. I stopped him. The last time he sounded like this, he offered me his will and all his worldly goods.

“Shh. Just rest. We have plenty of time to talk while you both recover. We’ll have nothing but time for the next four to six weeks.” I kissed his forehead. “There’s one more thing I want to say. I should have said it before the surgery. I love you, Richard.”

“I know you do. Say it again,” he murmured with a faint smile.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. Thanks for being here with me.”

“You’re thanking me? I’m the one who owes you a million thanks. Now just rest.” I kissed him and stayed with them for a while as they drifted in and out of sleep and the nurses checked on their recovery. They had made it through this stage; the rest should be easier, and I’d be by their sides every step of the way.

21

MATCHING SCARS

VIVIAN

Richard wasthe proudest man I’d ever known, and he despised showing any weakness. Yet, every time he laughed, I noticed the wince that followed, and every time he shifted in his chair, his jaw tensed—as if he could will the discomfort away. His slow recovery left him no choice but to cut back on work, something I had to remind him of every now and then.

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