Page 138 of With Us

“Theo?” I croaked out.

He jolted awake, his eyes snapping to meet mine. Before I could sit up, he was out of the chair and by my side, sitting on the edge of the bed. His large hands cupped my cheeks. “Cazzo, gattina. You’ve had us all scared to death.”

My own hands reached up to cup his face. His beard was rough under my palms.

One side of his mouth quirked up in a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I’m a bit overdue for a shave.”

“This is my favorite one,” I whispered, each word hurting more than the last, and for more than one reason.

“Favorite what?”

My throat burned and ached as I spoke. The real pain, however, came from knowing that in a few short moments, I’d likely be thrust back into the real world. I’d open my eyes and he’d be gone again.

“Dream.”

“It’s not a dream, gattina.”

“That’s what you said in the last one. Of course you had a handlebar mustache in that one, not a beard. And you kept talking in an accent about indie bands I’d never heard of.”

Dream Theo held his arms out. “Not a hipster.”

He was right. His gray tee and dark track pants were his own. The beard was new, but everything else looked like the real Theo.

“I have to be dreaming,” I murmured, more to myself than him.

Still, he answered me by cupping my cheeks again and lowering his face close to mine. “Does this feel like a dream, gattina?” His soft kiss quickly evolved into something more. Controlled pressure became intense and powerful.

Moving his hand down to my waist in an attempt to get closer, Theo accidentally snagged my IV and tugged.

It hurt.

“Ouch,” I cried, wincing before realization dawned. My eyes widened.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Theo scanned my face, alarm growing on his as I remained speechless.

“You can’t feel actual pain in dreams.”

“Are you okay?”

“That hurt.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Which means you’re you. The real you. And you’re here.” I gripped his forearms, tears spilling down my cheeks. “How? Why? What happened?”

“I got early release.”

“This fast?”

“It’d been in the works for a while.”

“How?”

“Costa had already been working on getting me early release, pulling in favors left and right. It’d been approved, but everything is a process.” He looked embarrassed. “Costa said ‘the grieving girlfriend’ could help speed things up. Had I known you were sick, I wouldn’t have ever agreed to it. But I’d sure as fuck have done everything I could to be out sooner. I’m sorry, gattina.”

“I… It’s overwhelming. What’s going on? Why?”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

---