I wake occasionally over the next day or two, (I can't really tell), but never for very long. Every time I turn my head, Tom is asleep in the chair. Not once have I seen Mitch. Where's the sorry bastard?
On the Wednesday of my slow week in hospital I hear the one thing that eases my panic.
"Tara? Can you hear me? Darling?" His sweet British voice overcomes everything.
"Yeah," I mumble weakly.
"Oh! Oh, love, how I've missed the sound of your voice," He grabs my hand as I reach out towards him and kisses it. I smile at him weakly.
"Mitch?" I ask.
"Darling, I'm sorry. He's been arrested for assault." It's then that I realise that Tom's nose is broken. I gasp in shock. "Love, I'm truly sorry. I tried to do something-"
"No, no. I don't care about Mitch. Your nose, Tom. Oh God, I'm so, so sorry," I pleaded with my eyes for his forgiveness.
"Hey, Darling, shh, shh it's ok," Tom reassures me, his lips pressed to my hands. I relax, and I know now that I never truly got over Tom.
"Tom?"
"Yes?"
"I'm really tired," Tom lets go of my hands and begins to retreat to the hard, plastic chair. "No, Tom. Here." I move over to make enough room for him.
"Are you sure, darling?" I nodded in response. Tom slipped off his shoes and clambered up next to me, wrapping me in an embrace. His legs intertwined with mine and I pressed my body hard against his and he wrapped his safe, sturdy arms around my torso. He pressed his lips against my hair. My eyes slowly shut, but I wasn't asleep just yet.
"Tom?"
"Mmm?"
"I love you."
"And I love you."
Now I was asleep.
