Matrimony | H.S.

Chapter 19

☆☆☆

ROSE

The next morning, I woke up on my own, just as I'd said I would, and I met Harry downstairs. Maybe because of the nerves that came with the surgery or because of what had happened just the night before, neither one of us said a word to each other.

When Steve—the doorman—wished me good luck and told me he couldn't wait to see me again with all good news, I was ashamed to admit I got a little teary-eyed and only managed to give him a small smile and a nod. He understood I wasn't trying to be rude though—I could see it in his own smile.

The car ride was similarly quiet. When Raymond pulled the car up in front of the hospital, Harry got out and held the door open for me. I followed after him, but before I could step out, Raymond's voice stopped me with one foot in the car and the other one out on the pavement.

He slung his arm over the passenger seat and turned his body so he could meet my eyes.

"You will be fine." He assured me, his voice soft and quiet. It was the second time I teared up that morning.

Everything else had been just automatic. I'd woken up, taken a very quick shower, gotten dressed, grabbed my hospital bag, and walked out of Harry's apartment. It had almost felt like I was just going to travel somewhere I didn't necessarily want to go to.

"Okay." I replied.

Raymond arched his eyebrows. "You can do better than that."

"I'll probably be fine."

"No probably about it. I'll come up when you're out of surgery to say hi, all right?"

I wasn't sure if I wanted anyone to see me after the surgery, but I didn't say that. "I'd like that. Thank you, Ray."

"See you soon."

"Okay. See you soon."

I got out and, with Harry by my side, walked into the hospital. I cast quick glances at him, but his face looked all stony, like the first day I'd met him. I didn't know what to say to him. That wasn't true—I actually did know what to say to him, but it wasn't the time for it.

After we checked in and they confirmed our surgery time, a nurse took us up to a hospital room, apparently not the one I'd be staying in, but a different one.

Harry stayed in the corner with his hands in his pockets. I now knew what that meant—he was nervous about something, unhappy.

The nurse gave me my hospital gown and asked me a whole lot of questions. My name, my age, my weight, the things I was allergic to—all things they already knew, but double-checking never hurt anyone. I was allergic to penicillin. That was the one thing I remembered I kept saying. She put the identification band on me, walked me through what was going to happen next, and left me with Harry so I could change into the gown.

I was like a robot. I went into the little bathroom and took off my clothes, all but my underwear, and put the gown on. My heart hammering in my chest, I stepped out of the bathroom and met Harry's hard gaze.

Spreading my arms, I tried to sound cheerful when I asked, "How do I look?"

He didn't answer, just stared into my eyes.

I took a step toward him, because now was the time to say what I needed to say to him. The same nurse who had been in just a few minutes earlier popped her head through the doorway, and both Harry and I glanced at her.

"Is she dressed? Oh, good, you're ready. I'm sending someone in to get you in the wheelchair."

"I, uh, can I have just a quick minute with my husband?"