Mulberry clears his throat from the doorway. “Enough philosophy,” he says. “Sydney needs to rest.”
“I am sick of being in this bed.”
“It’s been like an hour.” Mulberry laughs.
Merl rises. “I’ll see you later.” His dogs stand, and mine follow to see them all out.
Mulberry returns moments later with a cup of tea and my three dogs in tow. “Want to watch more of that movie?”
“Sure.” He puts the tea on my night stand and then lies on the other side of the bed on top of the covers. Exhaustion comes for me and all I want to do is cuddle up, lay my head on his broad chest, and rest. So I do. I scoot over, Mulberry raises his arm, in a gesture as old as time, and I fit into the spot where I fit so damn well. His arm comes down, curling around my back so that his hand lands on my hip.
Sleep comes like a subtle riptide, pulling me into a dream without me noticing. I’m still in my bedroom, still cuddled close to Mulberry. But the sound of a baby crying pulls me from the bed. I follow it through the open door. The carpet is dotted with blood. I follow the trail, through another open door into a nursery. Flowing white lace curtains, spattered with red, sway. I push them aside; the crying growing closer as I travel deeper into the room.
Feeling warmth on my feet, I look down. Blood is spreading across the floor, so that when I pick up my foot, I see white carpeting underneath—but the blood quickly fills the spot. And now I have nowhere dry to put my foot. But the baby is still crying.
Anxiety starts to brew in my chest. And Blue is not there to swipe his nose across my fingers. This is a dream. Otherwise Blue would be here. Okay, wake up. Wake up. But I can’t…I can’t wake up.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The tangled emotions of a dream I can’t remember cling to me. Anxiety churns in my chest, making my heart beat faster. A wet nose presses against my hand, comforting me. I wiggle my fingers and Blue’s snout pushes my hand so that I’m petting him. “Good boy,” I say through chapped lips.
“Sydney?” Mulberry’s voice reaches through the hazy space and pulls me closer to being awake.
Blue whines and I move my hand, petting his snout.
“Sydney!” Mulberry’s voice is louder, excited.
I pry my eyes open and find him hovering over me. When my eyes meet his, tears spring into his gaze. “Sydney,” he says again, his voice choked. My lips ache when I smile up at him.
He takes my free hand—the one not petting Blue—and kisses it. “Sydney,” he says my name again. It comes out almost like a prayer.
What is going on?
Mulberry looks up, his eyes catching on something next to the bed. I shift to follow his gaze. There are machines next to me—IVs and monitors. Confusion clouds my thoughts. “What?” I croak out, the word hurting my parched throat.
Mulberry grabs a cup with a straw next to my bed and brings it to my lips. I take a sip but then cough, splattering water all over myself. Mulberry helps me sit up and I can feel the needles in my arm, the monitors on my chest. Blue shifts to give me more room. Mulberry brings the straw to my lips again and this time I drink slowly, carefully, my gaze on the cup.
He moves it away and my eyes fall on my stomach. It’s huge. My son shifts inside of me and it is not a flutter—he’s big. Way big. “Sydney,” Mulberry says my name again, this time in a deep baritone meant to reassure. “You’ve been in a coma for a month.”
“What?” I croak out again. Blue’s wet nose swipes at my forearm and I lay a hand on his ruff, letting my fingers dig into the reassuring warmth.
“Hold on.” Mulberry grabs his phone and starts typing. “I’m going to have Dr. Guilder come and talk to you.”
“What about our baby?”
“He’s fine,” Mulberry quickly reassures me. “Totally fine.”
Relief washes over me and I lay back on the pillows. I’m in my room but the bed is a hospital bed. Just like Dan had when we got here. Blue lies next to me, fitting himself onto the narrow mattress.
My eyelids feel heavy, but I refuse to close them. I lost a month of my life. How the fuck did this happen? “What about Nila and Frank?” I ask.
“Merl took them back to Costa Rica with him. We thought it was best since we didn’t know…” Mulberry’s voice trails off. I glance over at him but he’s still focused on his phone. “Dr. Guilder is on her way,” he says, placing it on the bedside table.
Dark circles haunt Mulberry’s eyes and stubble coats his jaw. We’ve almost lost each other so many times. He picks up my hand again and kisses it. “I love you so much.”
I squeeze. “You okay?” I ask.
He shakes his head, his eyes growing red and shiny. “No,” he admits with a shy smile. “I’m kind of a disaster.”
“Come here,” I say, pulling him closer. Blue makes room as Mulberry wraps his arms around me. He buries his face into my neck then takes a deep breath, the air rushing over my skin. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m okay, the baby’s okay.” I rub soothing circles on his back. My arms feel heavy, the IV needles pulling at me, but I can move them. That’s got to be a good sign.
“I…losing you. Him. I can’t.” Mulberry’s lips brush against my skin with each word.
“It’s okay. We are both here. We’re fine.”
Mulberry pulls back, our faces close. “You don’t understand, Sydney, you almost died.”
“Not the first time,” I say, trying to make a joke. Mulberry shakes his head, clearly not ready to make light of my near-death experience. I smile, trying to lift his spirits.
He stares into my eyes, bringing a hand around and cupping my cheek. His gaze tracks to my lips, then back to my eyes. “I missed you so much.”
Blue whines softly as if in agreement. A knock at the door draws Mulberry away. I turn to look at my dog. He looks the same—mismatched eyes watching me with love and adoration I do not deserve.
“Sydney,” Dr. Guilder says in greeting. She looks the same too—bright blue eyes, blonde hair, an air of competence and caring. She pulls out her pen light and I obediently follow her directions.
“I’m fine,” I protest, which is truly absurd but I can’t seem to keep the words in my mouth.
