Within These Walls (26 page)

I gave her a dumbfounded look. “You’re practically dry-humping me while nearly topless. I’m about to die.”

Her head fell to my shoulder, and laughter soon followed. “You’re the one who put us in this position,” she reminded me.

“Yeah, I know,” I said, letting her legs slide to the floor. “I tend to do all sorts of stupid things when you’re around.”

Her mischievous eyes met mine. “I like when you do stupid things.”

“I can tell,” I replied with a grin as I stepped back from the wall.
Air. I need air.

“Why don’t you come sit with me, and we can catch up?”

I nodded, and we took our positions on the bed, but this time, I sat up rather than snuggling down next to her. I could still taste her on my lips and feel her touch on my skin. If we had too much contact now, we’d be right where we had been three minutes ago. Right now, I wasn’t sure I would be able to stop again.

I’d taken things farther with Lailah in this room than I’d ever planned on, and every step we took over the line was one foot closer to taking away my promise to her.

“How have you been?” she asked, crossing her legs in front of her, Indian style.

“Miserable. Lonely. Spent a lot of time thinking about Megan and my past…and the life I was supposed to have with her. You were right, Lailah. I was punishing myself. I’d always told myself that I stayed because it was the only way to be close to her, but she’s not here. She hasn’t been here in three years.”

Lailah took my hand.

I continued, “I have though. I’ve been here for three years, lost and alone, holding on to a life I was never going to have. Then, you appeared and showed me what it was like to live. I remember looking into this room that first night and seeing you eating pudding off your finger. It was so simple, so
human
. I wanted that. You make me feel human again.”

“I don’t ever want you to think I’m trying to replace her,” she said. “For the last two days, I’ve been so afraid that you wouldn’t come back, and if you did, you would resent me.”

“I should have never stayed away,” I said, tugging on our joined hands.

She unfolded her legs and crawled onto my lap, and I let my arms fall around her.

“I know you aren’t trying to replace her. You’re too good-natured to even try. She was my first love, and my heart broke when I lost her. That was the end of my story,” I said, cupping her chin and tilting it upward. “Until you. My heart is mending because of you.”

When our lips met this time, our kiss was tender and slow. It was nothing like the passionate reunion from earlier. I savored each moment, pouring in every emotion and feeling I wasn’t yet ready to say. I knew now that until I forgave myself and said good-bye to my ghosts and the memories haunting me, I’d never be able to fully move ahead.

Lailah and I spent the afternoon making up for lost time. We talked and laughed over the selection of books Lailah’s mom had brought her.

“
The Baby-Sitter’s Club
?” I asked, holding up the worn paperback with the title written on blocks.

“My scatterbrained mom sometimes just picks up whatever she sees first at the library.”

“Make a list. I’ll pick up whatever you want.”

“Really?” she asked with a mixture of excitement and a little embarrassment.

“Why the blushing?” I asked, skimming my fingers across her cheeks.

She bit her lip before speaking. “There are some books I’ve been dying to get but they are a bit…”

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. Just get me some crime novels.”

“Are these books you’re not asking for sexy books perhaps?” I asked, giving her a lopsided grin.

“Maybe.”

“Can we read those parts together?”

Her cheeks flared up from that comment, causing me to laugh. I got my book list. It was a long one.

“Hey, do you want to watch a movie?” I asked, flopping down beside her on the bed.

“Oh my gosh, that reminds me!” she exclaimed.

“What?”

“Have you seen the news?” Her expression was now much more serious.

“No, I usually avoid it.”

“You should probably turn on CNN or pull up their website,” she suggested, reaching down to pull out her laptop.

That thing was reaching geriatric years, but with the hospital Wi-Fi, it was passable for Internet use. I plucked it out of her hands and flipped it open.

“Why? What should I be looking for?” I asked, typing
CNN
into the search engine.

“You’ll see it.”

I clicked on the website, and as soon as the site loaded, I saw several headlines—a tropical storm, something about a celebrity—and then my eyes stopped.

“‘Cavanaugh Dynasty Headed for Disaster’?” I announced, repeating the headline to myself.

I looked up at Lailah, and she nodded.

“It’s all over the news,” she said.

I clicked on the link to bring up the full article. A full-color picture of my brother was included, showing him walking through the doors of Cavanaugh Investments. He looked older, and his eyes were downcast as he tried to avoid the cameras and attention.

My eyes quickly skimmed the words, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. The phrases
poor business decisions
,
family in turmoil
, and
investors not happy
all popped out at me.

“My father’s and brother’s little scheme to cover up my whereabouts has finally leaked as well as their lack of business skills. How my father managed not to run the business into the ground sooner has never failed to astound me. It was my grandfather’s vision, not his.” I shook my head, shutting the laptop and setting it aside.

“Are you going to do anything?” she asked softly.

“No. They made the mess, so they can clean it up,” I answered. “My place is here now.”

I’D JUST FINISHED my lackluster lunch of lasagna and broccoli when there was a knock on my door. My heart fluttered in anticipation, wondering if it was Jude about to grace my presence, but then I realized I had no idea when or even if he was going to visit me today. When I’d asked him yesterday, he’d been especially vague, actually sidestepping the conversation altogether.

I gave my okay to enter and felt my jaw hit the floor.

Weighed down by an assortment of glittery gowns, boxes of shoes, and several other bags, my mother and Grace entered my room and nearly collapsed as they dumped things on the end of my bed.

“What the heck?” I said, looking around for some sort of clue. “Are we playing dress-up?”

Grace’s eyes lit up, and it was then that I noticed she wasn’t dressed for work. Instead, she wore a pair of slim dark jeans, pink ballet flats, and a flowery top. Her hair was pulled back into a large neat bun at the top of her head. I’d never seen her out of scrubs. She looked beautiful and exactly how I would have pictured her—girlie with a touch of class.

“We are here to get you ready,” Grace announced.

“Ready for what?” My eyes darted around the room from her to my mom, who was not nearly as excited but still showing more emotion than I usually saw out of her.

“I can’t tell you,” Grace said.

“Okay.”

“It’s another one of those crazy ideas your boyfriend thought up,” my mom added with a slight smile and a roll of her eyes.

She was warming up to Jude. It was taking a while, but slowly, she was coming around. Maybe by the time we were in our forties, she might work her way up to a hug.

“So, where do we start?”

We started with dresses. Grace had brought a huge selection, all with various styles and colors.

“Where did you get these?” I asked.

“Never you mind that,” she answered with a wave of the hand. “Jude asked me to handle the beauty side of things, and I did. Now, which one do you like best?”

I looked through all my choices. Some were sweet, and some were sexy. I chose several to try on, but my eyes kept going to one—a strapless mint green gown that reminded me of Jude’s eyes. I saved that one for last. Grace loved everything, and my mother even got teary-eyed from seeing me in something other than sweats and jeans. But when I came out in that last dress, there was silence.

It was stunning. The bodice was simple with a sweetheart shape that gave lift and shape to my otherwise straight body. The part that made it interesting was the lace overlay covering my scar just perfectly, curving around my collarbone, but it was still see-through enough that the sweetheart-style was visible. The dress hugged at the waist and then flared with wisps of fabric cascading elegantly down to the floor.

They both stared up at me.

“It’s perfect,” Grace finally said.

“It’s lovely,” my mom chimed in.

“Yay!” Grace exclaimed. “Now, let’s choose shoes!”

Those were an easy choice. I went with a flat silver sandal. The dress was long enough, so no one would see my shoes anyway, and since I’d never in my life walked in heels, I didn’t want to start now. I actually wanted to get out of this hospital sometime in the near future.

Once that decision was made, we moved on to makeup. Grace had me strip out of my dress and back into my regular clothes. She pulled out this huge toolbox-looking thing that had about fifty-thousand compartments crammed inside.

“Are you sure you don’t have an apartment in there?” I asked.

She opened yet another hidden drawer. “No, I’m just very organized when it comes to makeup.”

“Obviously.”

I was nervous when she began painting on foundation and puffing on powder. I’d never worn makeup, and even though I had no clue what was going on, I knew I didn’t want to look like a hooker for it.

“Okay, time for the reveal,” she said, holding a mirror out in front of me.

I took a deep breath and looked up at the reflection staring back at me.

“Oh my God, Grace.”

“I know,” she said.

She’d done an amazing job. It was me, only slightly improved but nothing overstated. There were no harsh black lines or daring eye shadow. I just had subtle highlights here and there to accentuate my cheekbones and eye color.

“Thank you, Grace,” my mother said, giving her a hug.

“So, someone please tell me we’re going to do something with my hair?” I said, looking into the mirror at my long blonde hair pulled to the side.

“Your mom has actually asked to do your hair,” Grace declared with a smile.

I looked over to my mom, who was pulling out a few things from a shopping bag.

“What?” she scoffed. “I do know a thing or two!”

I held up my hands and laughed as she gathered her things and sank down behind me.

Smooth, methodical strokes of the brush moved through my hair, tingling my scalp and relaxing my tense shoulders.

“When I was younger, Grandma used to braid my hair. She could do every kind of braid you can imagine. I’d hold up a mirror and watch her every day as she’d create beautiful patterns in my long hair.”

The tips of her fingers brushed my crown, and I felt her grab several strands.

“By the time you were born, her arthritis had taken over, and she wasn’t able to do many of the things she’d done before. I regret to say that somehow over the years, I’ve forgotten about the simple things.”

“Mom, you’ve kept me alive.”

“Yes, but what have I cost you? Jude said you keep a list. Everything he’s been doing has been to give you a piece of a normal life. I should have done that.”

“You’re doing it now by braiding my hair and having an afternoon with my friend and me,” I said.

Grace smiled from the chair.

“It’s never too late.”

“He really does care for you, doesn’t he?” Mom softly tugged and smoothed strands of my hair, putting them in place.

“He’s her Flynn Rider,” Grace said in a dreamy voice.

“What?” my mother and I said simultaneously.

“Remember when I said you were Rapunzel, sitting up in your tower, just waiting for your prince? Well, he’s your Flynn,” she said with a grin. “And he found you.”

Who knew being a girl could take up so much time?

The three of us spent the entire afternoon primping and preparing for an evening I didn’t know a thing about.

But I knew I wasn’t going solo.

After my hair had been braided into an intricate updo that even Katniss Everdeen would envy, both my mother and Grace pulled out dresses of their own, and they proceeded to get ready. My mother was understated in a simple black cocktail dress. It flattered her small figure and brought life back to her cheeks.

“Mom, you look hot,” I said, grinning.

“Oh, stop. It’s just something I picked up on sale.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Grace wore sapphire blue, and the dress she’d chosen was gorgeous. Strapless with a fitted bodice, it flared at the waist. It was short and showed off her toned legs and monstrous high heels.

“How in the world do you walk in those things?” I asked, eyeing them warily.

“Just a bit of practice. Besides, shoes like these weren’t meant to be walked in. They’re just meant to be admired,” she said with a wink.

By five o’clock, all three of us were dressed and ready…for something.