Sail (Wake #2) (40 page)

Good nurses make all the difference.

I didn’t take her up on the pillow; I wasn’t that uncomfortable.

I fell asleep around the time of the early morning shift change and didn’t wake up until I felt Blake’s hand in my hair, lazily spinning a curl around her fingers.

I opened my eyes to find her watching me. My eyes burned, having missed looking into hers.

“Hi,” she said.

“Good morning.” I stood and kissed her lips and for the first time in too damn long; they finally fucking kissed me back. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. How long have I been here?” she asked. She still looked tired and weak, but color rose into her face and I could already see a world of difference.

“It’s Wednesday,” I said.

The look on her face, realizing just how long it had been made her lip quiver. “Wednesday?” she said as she teared up.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” I reassured her. “You were just sleeping.”

“I’m okay,” she said back, but she didn’t sound very confident.

“The police want me to call them when you wake up. They want to talk to you about what happened.”

Her head fell to the side and a tear slid down her cheek. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t remember.” Not wanting to talk about it first and not remembering second wasn’t very believable.

“You can tell them that. It’s okay. I promise.”

“Where is he?” she asked, but didn’t look back up at me. Her gaze was directed somewhere out the window.

“I don’t know. The police shot him. He was in the hospital for a little while and then he went to jail. Monday he had a hearing and bailed out.”

“They shot him?”

“He had a gun upstairs.”

She turned on her side away from me. So I walked around the bed.

“You don’t have to talk about it right now. All you have to do is rest and feel better. Okay?” I moved the hair from her wet face. It was eating me alive to see how she’d reacted. When I’d woken up she’d looked fine.

“I should have gone with you,” I said and kissed her temple. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I’m okay,” she said. Then sniffled a little and started to lean up.

“Are they going to serve him the papers?”

I hoped this part would bring her some sort of relief.

“They’re signed, honeybee. They served him with a new set. When you sign those, it’s done. Your lawyer said he’d have them processed in just a few days.”

“I want to sign them now.”

“I can have your dad bring them when he comes.”

“You met my dad?” she asked and her lips started to shake again. “I missed it? And my mom?”

Realization came over her again. I didn’t like seeing her feeling robbed of the memory, but she looked so unbearably cute.

“I missed their party?”

I wasn’t sure I was handling things the way I should have. All I could do was tell her the truth.

“They just postponed it. You didn’t miss it, honeybee.” I sat next to her so we were level. “And I met your parents, yes. But everything is good.” I smiled. “I think they like me.”

She finally smiled back. “I knew they would.”

“What’s not to like?”

She was quiet for a few minutes and she seemed to study me. She gazed at me so intensely, with so much love. I could feel it.

“Casey, I need something.”

“Anything.”

“As soon as those papers go through,” she said so tenderly, “will you marry me?”

I didn’t know her reasons. And I didn’t want to say no. But it wasn’t the way she deserved. The way we deserved.

She was awake. She was all right. And she wanted to be
my
wife.

I’d say she still had a lot of medicine in her system, but all three of those things made my fucking life better in every single way.

…The Sail.

HE WAS THERE. HE didn’t leave. And I wanted
him
to be my husband.

I’d heard bits and pieces of conversations while asleep. I thought I’d remembered Casey saying he wanted to marry me. But everything was still a little foggy. Things were still connecting and slowly beginning to make sense.

It was weird. I’d known Casey was there and I’d known my family had been there, too.

So when it hit me that it was the first time they’d met, it was like I knew it, but was just finding out all at the same time.

Events and reality from dreaming, were still hard to trust. I was processing what had happened, against the things I’d been fantasizing about.

I relived going to Grant’s over and over.

But other times, I was with Casey and I was safe and loved. That was what I wanted.

I didn’t know how I’d deal with all of it. I still didn’t know the whole story, but I knew one thing. I needed Casey.

“Did you just propose to me?” he asked with a smirk and a curious brow. “Those drugs must be good,” he said and chuckled a little, not taking me seriously. “There’s a chapel downstairs.”

That sounded fine to me. I wanted to be his and I wasn’t willing to wait any longer than I had to. We’d wasted so much time. We’d made so many mistakes in not telling each other what we wanted. What we needed.

I knew it was a long shot. And I wasn’t the best of brides. But in the history of wives, if I was his, I’d be the best there ever was.

“I’m serious,” I said, emotion swelling from deep inside. “I want to be your wife. I want to be yours. I don’t want to be Blake Kelly anymore, Casey. Please?” I wept, but I couldn’t help it when I finally admitted such a fundamental truth.

He scooted closer and wrapped his arms around me. My head found his shoulder and he spoke into my ear.

“You beautiful, precious woman, yes. I will marry you. I’ll marry you right now, but
I
want to ask
you.
Okay? I won’t ask you to wait long. And I don’t want a long engagement. But, Blake, I’ve been dreaming about asking you to marry me for a long, long time. So just give me a little bit here. You won’t have to wait long. I love you more than this. Let me show you.”

I turned my head into his face. “I hate waiting for you.”

I trusted his heart, my heart’s other half, but I needed to be his. Needed him to be mine.

“The best things are worth waiting a little for, honeybee. Otherwise, fairy tales would start with happily ever after.”

My cup hasn’t just runneth over, it has flooded my world. Support from family, friends, authors, bloggers and readers has more than once left me speechless. To readers who’ve cried and laughed and hung-on with these two characters, I’m forever indebted to you. You’ve felt what they felt and been through what they have. Consequently, you’ve changed my life. Thank you.

I’d like to acknowledge my beta team Megan, Bianca, Wendy, Michelle P., Jessica, Michelle T., Toski and Natasha. They are so supportive and can see through my crazy ramblings to the story I’m trying to tell. Then they help me organize those thoughts into
almost
coherent pieces. They ask, “Mo, you can make this better?” I can. So, I revise.

Then Marion (Marion Making Manuscripts) my wonderful editor, in turn, takes those pieces and says, “No. You can do much better here and here. I think you’re trying to say…” She’s right. I revise.

Then my manuscript goes off to my second editor, Claire (Bare Naked Words, Author Services) who says, “Make this better. Stronger. Clearer. You don’t need this.” Again, I revise.

Then I sent it to my proofreaders. Candy, Jordan, Sandra, Rachel, Jackie, Michelle and Laura tell me, “All of these things can be better. Fix them.” One more time, I revise.

It’s because of all of you, Sail is
infinitesimally
better than what I’m capable of on my own
.
My team needs no revision.

Thank you to Ari at Cover It! Designs and Stacey at Champagne Formatting for making Sail look exactly how I imagined it.

To my friends in the Mo Stash and the honeybees in Take the Bait who keep me laughing, happy and moving forward. I love you.

Wendy, you’re such a blessing to me. I’m so happy to work with you.

To Chelle, Aly and Erin, I’m proud to call you friends. You’re classy, smart and talented women who know everything!

To DS, you’re becoming one of my favorite writing partners. I can’t wait to see what you do.

To Nat, you’re still mine. Forever. It’s not up for discussion.

Because it felt wrong not saying something about Laurel, I’d like to note she’s cool, too.

Danny, I love you. Thank you for putting up with me. And Blake and Casey. (And Chelle and Aly. And Natasha. And Kelly.) I can only write about love because you give me so much of it. So much that I have love to spare.
Fifty-five cents
worth.

M. Mabie lives in Illinois with her husband. She loves reading and writing romance. She cares about politics but will not discuss them in public. She uses the same fork at every meal, watches Wayne’s World while cleaning, and lets her dog sleep on her head. M. Mabie has never been accused of being tight lipped or shy. In fact, if you listen very closely, you can probably hear her flapping her gums.
You’re encouraged to contact M. Mabie about her future works, as well as this one.

Website

FaceBook

Twitter