Page 27 of Wild Valentine
Mom shakes her head. “It’s not over yet, hon. Remember what day it is today. Magical things happen for our family on Valentine’s Day.”
She’s got a sparkle in her eye and her smile is mischievous, not masking any pain at all.
I move to sit on the bed next to her, and she shuffles over to make room for me. I peer at her, trying to read the lines of her face.
“How are you feeling, Mom?”
I’ve been so caught up in my own heartache that I haven’t really being paying attention to Mom. To how much firmer her grip is, the laughter in her eyes, her steady, strong voice.
“I feel a lot better, honey. Over the last week, it’s like I’m getting my strength back.”
That’s when it hits me. Mom isn’t going to die today. Not this week, not this month.
I grab the chart at the bottom of her bed and flick through the bloodwork. She’s been a patient long enough that I can interpret the numbers and the doctor’s scrawly handwriting.
Instead of the decline I’ve been expecting, Mom’s blood work is improving.
“Are you in remission?” It comes out as a whisper because I’m too scared to ask.
“No.” She shakes her head, but there’s no sadness, only acceptance.
“There’s no remission for me, Hazel, but I am feeling better. I may not beat this cancer, but I’m sure as hell not going to let it take me just yet.”
My mouth drops open. Mom’s been accepting of her passing and ready to see Dad again. It’s what’s been keeping her spirits up this past year.
“But… how about Dad? And meeting him in the next realm?”
She shrugs. “I’ve got a feeling there’s something I need to do in this realm first.”
Her eyes move behind me, and I spin around to see the receptionist coming through the curtains.
“There’s someone here to see you. But he’s not on the visitor list.”
Mom gives a knowing smile, and for a wild moment I wonder if she’s met a man online. But it’s me the receptionist directs her gaze at.
“A Marcus Wild.”
My heart does a double flip in my chest. “Marcus…is here?”
My gaze darts to my mother, and she nods sagely like she was expecting this. How do mothers do that? They know things before they happen.
“Go.” She nudges me off the bed. “Go see your valentine.”
“He’s not my valentine,” I mutter as I run a hand through my hair. I’m regretting not washing it last night, but personal appearance has not been at the top of my agenda since I got back.
I rummage in my bag for some lip gloss. It will have to do. It buys me some time as I try to get my thumping heart under control.
Marcus towers over the reception desk, looking like a giant in the small space. His gaze rests on mine, and his expression is unreadable.
My smile dies on my lips. He hasn’t come for me; he’s come for the story.
I emailed him a copy of what I wrote up with a note that I wasn’t going to publish it. But I wanted him to have it. He’s come to start a fight with me again for what he thinks I did, for using my feminine wiles to get him talking.
“Walk with me.”
The sound of his gravelly voice has my knees quivering, and my core gives a persistent tug. Damn this man for having such an effect on my body.
He opens the door for me, and I step out into the small garden that’s part of the care facility. Snowdrops scatter the garden beds and line the small path that leads around the side of the building. The cold air makes me shiver, and I wrap my arms around myself.
