Page 128 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
“And the bean?”
I can’t help but smile. We’ve decided not to find out the sex of the baby, so for now we’re just calling him or her “the bean.” I’ve started to show. I think my little pooch is cute, and can’t stop running my hands over it.
“Snug in his momma’s belly.”
A.J.’s lips find my neck. “His? What if it’s a girl? I kinda had my heart set on a little Abigail Aleksandra Elizabeth.”
My face crumples. I squeeze my eyes shut, pulling in a breath through my nose.
A.J. pulls back and takes my face into his hands. “Hey. Listen to me now. I’m going. To be. Okay. We’ve got the house all set up right for when I get home, we’ve got the rehab specialist scheduled to help out, I’m learning braille. And if Stevie Wonder can play the keyboard without his sight, I can sure as hell play the drums without mine.” He pauses. “Oh no.”
Immediately, panic creeps up my throat. “What?”
He looks at me, completely serious. “I forgot to stock up on cool sunglasses.”
I whack him on the shoulder. “Not funny!”
He grins. “C’mon, it’s sorta funny.”
I don’t know how he’s so calm. Part of me knows he’s doing it for me, another part knows that’s just him: strong. I hope our baby gets her strength from him, because it’s taking every ounce of my concentration not to dissolve into a blubbering mess.
I’m pulled into another hug. A.J. and I stand there like that for a moment, silent, holding each other, until my mother gently clears her throat.
“I think it’s time to go, loves.”
“That it is,” agrees A.J., giving me a final squeeze. He lets me go and smiles at both of us. “But I’m driving. And if this is the last time I’m getting behind the wheel of a car, you ladies might want to hold on to your hats. I might not be minding all the speed limits. Or any of them.”
“Suits me,” says my mother breezily. “Thomas drives like an old woman; it’ll be a nice change to go fast.”
The look on my face makes the two of them laugh.
We set off for the hospital, and A.J. is true to his word. My mother and I just hang on, while I keep telling myself one thing over and over again.
He’s going to make it. He’s going to make it. He will make it.
I break my self-imposed ban on talking to God, and start to pray.
The surgery lasts six hours. They are the longest hours of my life. Because I knew this was coming, it’s somehow worse than when A.J. was in surgery after Eric shot him. The weeks and weeks of anticipation have wound every one of my nerves bowstring tight, and I can hardly breathe.
I pace. I drink coffee. I plead with God.
When the surgeon comes in to tell us A.J. made it through successfully and has been transferred to the ICU, no one erupts with cheers like they did the night of the wedding. There’s still too much at stake; this is only half the battle. There is profound relief, however. Nico and Kat hug; Chris, Ethan, and Brody share a round of high fives; Kenji and Grace embrace, as do my parents. Jamie went back to New York weeks before, but I text him the news with shaking hands, silent tears streaming down my face.
Heavenly puts her hand on my shoulder. She looks almost as wrecked as I feel. Without speaking, we hug.
When it’s time for me to go see him, my mother squeezes my hand. “Remember what the surgeon said, darling. It’s too early to tell anything yet.”
It’s too early to tell if he’ll be paralyzed, or be able to speak, or remember my name. It’s too early to tell if my child will be growing up with a father who’s merely blind, or one who can’t function at all without a twenty-four-hour nursing assistant.
But he’s alive. He’s still my A.J. And no matter how disabled, I will love him just the same. Forever.
The surgeon leads me to his room. I stand outside the door, watching him. His head has been completely shaved; I’ve asked the nurse to save his hair.
“He looks peaceful,” I murmur to the doctor.
He turns to me. “I have a few simple tests to do. I can come back later if you prefer.”
“No,” I say quickly. “I’m not leaving this room until he does.”
