Stay(47)

I kiss her deeply, sliding my tongue against hers, curling them together. My thumbs trace her cheeks, and I cherish the sweet taste of her. Green grapes and fresh water.

She’s rocking faster on my lap. Her hands grip my shoulders and she arches up. Her little noises are breathless. God, she’s so beautiful. I’m so hard, so ready to go off inside her. I grit my teeth, waiting.

“Come on, baby.”

“Oh, God… Oh, yes…” She says it almost like a cry.

She’s right there, and I reach between us, pinching her clit, rubbing it until she breaks, falling forward. Holding my shoulders as the ripples of pleasure move through her body. I close my eyes and let her pull me along, groaning loudly as I fill her. Holding her until she’s done, her breathing changing from haggard to calm.

Gently, I roll her onto the bed beside me. I’m propped on my elbow, looking down on her flushed cheeks, my cock warm and snug inside her body. I slide her hair back, and our eyes lock, blue on blue. I touch her lips with my thumb.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” My voice is something I don’t recognize. It’s gentle, and I fucking don’t care. “I never want to do it again. Let me make it up to you.”

She places her palm against my cheek. “Okay.”

Leaning down, I kiss her again.





19





Emmy


“So it’s a combination of resective surgery and a hemispherectomy.” Stephen leans closer, studying the images on the computer screen. “They say it’s more precise than the typical surgery, but it’s more thorough.”

I’m sitting in his lap, holding a mug of coffee. “They also say the younger the patient, the better the long-term outcome will be.”

His brow is furrowed, and he’s reading closely. It’s a long PDF document with pictures of brain scans linked to a page on the Mayo Clinic website. It took me two days to read it, looking up the medical words and making notes for cross-reference. Stephen reads it without hesitation as if he’s been practicing medicine for years.

I remember how Pike Academy made a big deal of his 170 IQ, and one of the local magazines compared him to a young Bill Gates. As a girl, I was in awe of him, thinking he would be the greatest man, imagining myself at his side.

“What do you think?” My voice is small, and my insides are tense.

He nods without taking his eyes off the screen. “I know the perfect person to talk to about this. Henry Rourke works at Weill Cornell Medical, which happens to be one of the top neurosurgery hospitals in the country. We’ve worked together before, and he is top of the line.”

Tears fill my eyes. When he said he would help me, I still had doubt things would come together. I never dreamed it would happen this quickly. Now, reading the report with him, having him confirm it’s a potential cure for Eli, seeing him put his finger on someone who can help us… it all feels so real. I believe my baby has a shot at a normal life.

I set my coffee mug on his desk. “How soon would you be able to talk to him?”

“I bet…” Stephen clicks around on his giant iMac. He actually has two giant iMacs like he’s the commander of a starship. “He helped me a while back with an app I was working on for stroke victims. Henry’s a good guy. You’ll like him.”

“Okay…” Not really answering my question…

“Let me call him. I’ll have Eli here every day during the week, right?”

“Yes, but I want to go with you.”

Stephen’s brow furrows as he reads his calendar. “I’ll call him tomorrow and see if we can get the ball rolling this week.”

“Oh, Stephen!” I dive forward, throwing my arms around his neck.

He chuckles, patting my back. “Why are you acting so surprised. I told you I’d take care of it.”

My eyes are closed, and I hold onto him, waiting for my heartbeat to return to normal, doing my best not to cry. “I guess I didn’t believe it would happen.”

He nudges my shoulder, and I lean back to meet his gaze. “You married me so I would help your son. I always keep my word.”

I think about our arrangement and our little honeymoon interlude. We’ve had an amazing, intimate pocket of time. And tomorrow it ends.

“I’d like to be outside in the sun. Can we walk up to Central Park?”

He smiles and touches my cheek. “Sure.”

For the first time in forty-eight hours we head outside, walking four blocks west and one block east, entering the park at the Grand Army Plaza south of the zoo.

Everybody seems to be out today. The sun is shining, bikers ride past on the path, boats glide silently on the pond, children cluster around a man making long bubbles with a hoop, dancers and performers are scattered throughout.

My hand is in the crook of Stephen’s arm, and we walk slowly north, in the direction of the Gapstow Bridge. I take a deep inhale of blooming flowers, cut grass, and fresh water. “It’s been years since I walked these paths. We used to come every Saturday when I was a kid.”

Stephen nods toward the path tracing the perimeter. “I’m here a few times a week, jogging.”

“I miss all the trees. It’s so far from the Village.”

We pause to watch a man dressed like a mime and a woman in a black leotard and full black skirt perform a modern dance without music in front of, around, and on a fountain. A small crowd gathers, and when they finish we all clap. Stephen drops cash in their hat.