Page 28 of Every Chance After

His fifteen-minute errand takes an hour, but he seems happy on his return, unwrapping the cord and setting my phone to charge. He tells me about traffic congestion and admits getting distracted by the security section; he’s keen to upgrade Sunny’s motion-sensor lights and backdoor access points.

I nibble a dry piece of toast, fearful of my stomach again.

Finally, Ashe settles into the side chair, sipping his cold coffee.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He leans his elbows against his knees, catching my gaze. “Yeah, sorry. I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

“It’s okay,” I breathe out, relieved by his honesty. “I know this is hard on you, too.”

“It’s… so unfair.”

I risk my stomach for a long gulp of the watered-down ginger ale. “I’m sorry. I know how much you wanted…”

“So, did you.”

A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe. “If this changes anything… better to tell me now. I’d understand.”

“God, no, Marnie. I love you,” he insists, grabbing my hand. “We’ll work through it, figure it out. We’re good at that, right?”

I nod, his words stirring memories of us brainstorming ways to create the complicated displays I envisioned at the market. Fishing hooks, superglue, sponges, duct tape, and stacks of pennies are only a few of the quick-fix solutions we’ve devised to make our creations happen.

I smile and say, “Yes, you’re right.”

His lips graze my fingers as he holds my hand close. “Tell me what you need.”

A little gasp escapes in a chuckle. Hearing him say that warms those frigid temps previously circulating in my room.Thisis the Ashe I love and need. So, I go for absolute honesty—lying in a hospital bed, it’s hard to do otherwise.

“I know this is hard. I always take care of us, take care of everything. I love that. But now, I need you to take care of me for a little while. Please.” My voice cracks in tired desperation; I rarely ask anyone for anything, even Ashe. It almost hurts being this vulnerable, like standing naked in a blizzard. “I don’t need you to be the perfect caretaker or wait on me hand and foot. But I need you. I just need you here. With me. Holding my hand.”

“I’m here. I’ll be here. Promise.”

He fiddles with my side braid, smiling, and I sigh against the pillows, relieved.

CHAPTERSEVEN

Marnie

Our talk doesus both good. Ashe makes me laugh through many episodes ofMidsomer Murders. He fields phone calls, flower deliveries, and social media. He stays with me until well after dinner, and we’re dozing off. I encourage him to go home and get some rest, and with a lovely kiss, he promises to return early in the morning.

Cora shows up instead, arms full of gifts and in her Sunday best, like she plans to drop in at church after her visit.

I’ve always admired Cora, from her tough business tactics and management style to her mama-bear love and commitment to her family, especially to Ashe, her only child. She is thewholepackage.

Her heeled booties click against the floor and echo in the small room as she awkwardly unloads her gifts. She places a luscious fern at my bedside, bright green and bursting from its blue mosaic pot.

“You’ve been to see Mr. Frisk,” I chuckle, thinking of our stoic but expert floral department manager.

“He insisted on a plant, something alive rather than cut.”

“He knows I love my green family,” I say, considering where I might find room for it. But it’s a silly thought—I’m moving in with Ashe soon. His condo has a full-sized balcony with an ocean view and plenty of room for plants.

“I also brought magazines.” She angles open a reusable tote from Sunny’s (one of my brilliant ideas) to reveal issues ofVogueandCoastal Living, though I’m more of aPeopleandWoman’s Daygirl myself.

“Thanks. How sweet.”

“Blueberry muffins, fresh baked, and your favorite—Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups,” she coos.

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