Page 12 of Ma Belle Marguerite
I couldn’t work up the nerve to go in and see him yesterday. Plus where would I even start? I needed time to think. After going back and forth all day, I decide to see how he’s feeling and if he’s willing to talk. I already lost one man I cared about., I need to see if Rex is okay, too. I don’t want to bother him if he is in pain, but I can’t handle not knowing and being so close to him.
I head into work early for my evening shift to try and sneak in a visit after I stop and chat with Paul. Unlike last night, I’m not enjoying the natural music of spring with my windows in the SUV down. I’m a bundle of nerves. I know that Rex may rip my heart open again, but what if there is a chance he won’t? He is worth that risk. Though we were young, what we had was unlike anything I’ve felt since.
I may have married Adrien and loved him, but it was never quite like my love for Rex.
I’m sure if Camille could hear my thoughts right now she would want to smack me and tell me to stay away. Make Rex work for it; don’t give in so easily. He has already broken my heart once, so why give him a chance to do it again? Didn’t I learn the first time I trusted him?
Well, what can I say? I’m a sucker for punishment, I guess.
Honestly, though, after losing Adrien, I realized that life is too short to hold grudges. Of course, he’ll have to work for my complete forgiveness—that is, if he even wants me.
I need to stop getting ahead of myself. I’m not some princess who will have a fairytale life; I never seem to get that happily ever after.
After a quick chat with Paul in his office, I head up to where I heard the nurses saying they were making a special room for Rex last night. Of course, with his father being the head of the local "Mafia", there isn’t much you don’t get from being his son.
I apprehensively approach the nurse's station to ask which room Rex is in. As I get close, I see Josh from last night walkingout of a room with another tall, tattooed, attractive guy. What is it with these mafia type guys? Is it a requirement to be tall, dark, and handsome to join? I may be a widow, but I’m not blind. I also wouldn’t mind climbing up that tree and letting myself have a little fun.
Instead of stopping at the nurse's station, I head to the room the guys just left. Taking a deep breath, I open the door enough to look in and see if he’s awake. He seems to be, but it looks like he’s trying to sleep. I’m sure it isn’t easy. Between a severe concussion, bruised ribs, and the noise of a hospital, I imagine not much is comfortable.
As I’m about to back out, he looks up as if he senses me and does a double take. A look of confusion passes over his face. I’m frozen to the spot. It really is him. I mean, I knew it was him, but I wanted to believe it wasn’t. Seeing him reminds me of all the things we used to talk about doing at the age we are now.
“Is that you,Ma Belle Marguerite?” He murmurs so quietly, I almost don’t hear him.
The room is dark, casting shadows on his face. He still has the same closely groomed beard, but as always, no mustache. I always complained it was too prickly, so he kept it shaved for me. The sound of his deep raspy voice sends shivers down my spine, and I can see the blue of his eyes in the bit of light coming from the bedside table lamp. They were one of the things I loved about him, alongside his smile.
I feel like I have lost control of myself. “Yes, it’s me.”I guess it’s now or never.“Mind if I come in for a minute? I don’t have much time before my shift starts.”
“Sure.” He looks away slowly, almost like a scorned puppy, while mumbling something under his breath that I can’t make out.
“How long are you going to be in here?” Moving closer to the bed, I see that he looks more asleep than awake. His eyelids arehalf closed, and it looks like he’s staring into space. Maybe he’ll just send me off, and that’ll be it. I know he will need time to recover and that may be why he is practically acting as if I’m not here.
Still not looking at me, he mumbles sleepily, “Doctor said up to a week, depending.”
Resting my hand on the bedrail, I say, “Oh, that’s not too bad, I guess.” I feel like a dentist pulling teeth. I’m going to have to either drag a conversation out of him or leave. Maybe I should do just that. He really does need the rest, and we have already been apart thirteen years, what’s one more day? “Well, I will let you rest. I should go get ready for my shift.”
As I step away, I feel his hand brush mine. I think I hear him mumble, “I wish this was real.” Or maybe I just want to hear that. I turn back to look at him, and he’s still facing the window.
Without trying to sound desperate or hopeful, I ask, “Rex, would you like to talk more after my shift or before my next shift on Friday?” He just continues staring towards the window with a blank sleepy expression.
“Okay, I will stop by and see if you’re up before I head home later. I’m on a short shift tonight,” I tell him as I drag myself away from his bedside.
He doesn’t answer if he hears me. As I’m about to walk out the door, a nurse comes in.
“Excuse me, miss, but you can’t be in here. No visitors are allowed.” She looks me up and down as she walks past me.
“Sorry,” I say quickly as I squeeze by her and out the door.
Quietly, I look back into the room while the nurse has him distracted, trying to convince him he needs a sponge bath.Ha! Good luck with that!His grumpy self wouldn’t have even let me do that when he got hurt in high school.
I don’t blame her for trying. Even after being in a car accident, he is irresistible. I wish I could skip this shift and get someanswers or help with that sponge bath. Besides, seeing him lying there has so many feelings resurfacing. I should hate him for not coming for me, but deep down, I never could actually hate him. He was my first and only true love.
I have been distracted my whole shift. All I can think about is the tattoos peeking out from under Rex’s shirt, where the ink on his arms and collarbone leads. He had no tattoos when I left, except a blue daisy, for me.
They were my favorite flower because of him. When he first asked me out, he gave me a blue daisy. That’s where his nickname for me came from, ‘Ma Belle Marguerite,’ his beautiful daisy.When he got the flower tattooed over his heart, he told me they represent long-term loyalty and trust. They are also rare, like the love that we share. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of love.
It sounds corny and may not make sense to most, but that was Rex. He had a soft spot only for me. He was always doing the sweetest things just to make me smile. I used to think he’d do anything for me.
All my old feelings are coming back for him and competing with my anger towards him. I may be sassy and stubborn, but whenever it came to Rex I have always been a pushover.
