Ididn’t leave his hospital bedside.
Not to eat. Not to drink. Not to shower.
Frankie, Momma, and Monica rushed to my side as soon as the news broke.
They took turns bringing me food and clean clothes but could only ever persuade me to take bathroom breaks. Even then, I went about my business quickly.
Days ate at each other.
Time was not my friend, slipping between my fingers like quicksand. One minute, I was ecstatic that Romeo was not dead, that his heart still beat, that he’d soldiered through, fighting for each breath. The other, I crumbled in complete despair.
He wasn’t getting better.
He existed as a glorious statue. Still but beautiful.
The revolving door never ended.
Zach. Oliver. Mrs. Sun.
Cara. Monica. Senior.
Momma. Frankie.
Hundreds of flower arrangements and food offerings arrived every day from colleagues and friends. I donated them all. They made it feel like Romeo was no longer alive.
The very thought made me want to hurl myself out the window.
On the fourth day of Romeo’s medically induced coma, his lawyer waltzed in, along with Senior. Jasper Hayward. I recognized him from the day I’d signed a prenup.
My spine snapped straight. I wiped away the tears and cobwebs from my eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I shot to my feet, looking between the men. “There is no reason for you to pay him a visit. There is no change in his condition, and the doctors haven’t discussed taking him off life support, so there’s absolutely no way—”
“Dallas.” Senior put a hand on my shoulder. I jerked away, stepping back. “Don’t worry so much. Mr. Hayward is here to go over some documents. That’s all.”
Documents, my butt.
I trusted Jasper Hayward like I trusted the pull-out method as contraception.
And I trusted Senior even less.
I’d seen the leaked video from the shareholders meeting. As soon as Romeo left the room to save me, his father had followed through on his threat and announced Bruce as his replacement.
My guarded gaze traveled between their faces. “Make it fast. I’m going to be here all the while.”
Senior blinked at me. “You truly love him, don’t you, child?”
I leveled his glare with my own. “I would kill for him, sir.”
After the awkward silence that followed my overdramatic yet truthful declaration, Jasper shuffled to Romeo’s bed, drinking in an eyeful.
My fingers twitched. I resisted the urge to block his view of my husband in such a vulnerable position. I couldn’t remember him ever looking anything short of an untouchable emperor.
The sight never ceased to jar me, even four days later.
Jasper flapped open his case, rifling through some documents. “Obviously, we’re all hoping and praying for Romeo Jr.’s quick recovery. In the meantime, though, I would like to inform you that, should Mr. Costa take a turn for the worse, he made it clear what he wished for his wealth and estates. And though there is no prenup, there’s a will.”
Blinking slowly through eyes so swollen I hardly saw anything through them, I shook my head. “No. You’re wrong. There is a prenup. I signed it myself. Right in front of you.”
That seemed decades ago, but I knew my memory didn’t fail me.
Jasper Hayward frowned. “Mrs. Costa, I thought your husband told you.”
“Told me what?”
“Told you he stopped by my office a few weeks ago, tore the prenup to shreds, and dictated a will, instead. He left you everything he has. Every single thing.”
I staggered back, almost fainting. It was only by a miracle that I stayed on my feet. “Are you serious right now?”
“I get paid way too much to joke about such things.”
Romeo left me everything.
His money. His mansion. His cars.
All of it.
I knew the why. He’d told me, seconds before he’d skidded out of consciousness.
The question was—when did he write his will? At what point did he decide he loved me?
“When was that?” I demanded, clutching onto this new information like it had weight. Like it could bring him back to me. “When did he come to you? What day? What date?”
Jasper opened his mouth to answer, just as my favorite sound in the entire world filled the room.
“Shortbread?”
He’s in a medically induced coma. There is no way you heard his voice.
Still, it sounded so real.
So heartbreakingly perfect.
I turned around slowly, worried I was now hallucinating on top of suffering a mental breakdown. I did only sleep about an hour every day.
But when I looked at Romeo’s bed, he was inside it, staring at me with his pale eyes that never seemed to dim, even under the harsh hospital light.
“Oh, Lord.” I dropped to my knees, grabbing his hand in mine. “Please, tell me this is not a figment of my imagination and you really are awake. I’m too much of a snowflake for crushing disappointment.”
A gruff chuckle rumbled his chest.
He attempted to curl his fingers in mine. “It’s not your overactive imagination.”
Behind me, Senior strode toward the bed. “Son.”
Romeo didn’t even look up from my face when he said, “Senior? Jasper? Get the fuck out. Now.”
They fled within seconds. I cupped his cheek, brows squished together, delicious sparks electrifying my fingertips.
Should I not be at least a little concerned about my husband defying the laws of science?
“I thought…I thought they put you in a medically induced coma?” I rested my chin on the edge of his mattress, priding myself in my self-control. I had yet to jump on him with kisses. “I mean, they had. For the past four days. Your systems were in total shutdown. Barely functioning at some point.”
“Some bedside manner my wife has.” He gave me a slow onceover. I couldn’t help but laugh, shoulders shaking. “Don’t cry.”
“I never cry.”
But that wasn’t true. Not anymore.
A lopsided smile touched his lips. “You cried for me. While I appreciate the sentiment, if you do it again, my systems will suffer another massive breakdown.”
“You signed a form to pull him out of the medically induced coma yesterday.” Oliver breezed in without knocking, as though he owned the place. “You must’ve forgotten, seeing as you’ve been running on coffee, angry outbursts, and the thoroughly stabbed voodoo doll of Madison Licht that Frankie stitched for you.”
I glanced at the couch I’d occupied these past four days and the pincushion of a voodoo doll Frankie crocheted for me. It resembled a rag doll with a yellow receding hairline and Sharpie’d goofy smile.
Romeo laced his fingers with mine. “Oliver.”
He batted his eyelashes. “Yes, dear?”
“Leave.”
“Not before you give me Frankie’s number.”
“I’ll give you a punch in the face first,” I warned.
I couldn’t think of a more ill-suited candidate for my sister.
Once Oliver left, I returned my attention back to my husband. Romeo raised his hand, tucking a lock of hair that escaped my ponytail behind my ear with a devious smile.
“Rom?”
“Yes?”
“When did you rewrite your will? Canceled your prenup?” I wanted to know when he first realized he loved me.
“The day after you threw a party in my mansion and forced me to move back in.”
I frowned. “You hated me back then.”
“Baby.” He cupped my cheek. “I never hated you. I went from indifference, to being petrified of what you might do to my heart, to so disgustingly in love, I half wished you’d dump me just so I could tell myself I told you so.”
“The night after the party.” I squeezed his hand, humming. “Wow. Do I really suck cock that good?”
He laughed, even though I could tell he was in pain, drawing me to a kiss. “It’s difficult to say. Perhaps you’d be as kind as to give me a reminder?”
