“Are there others?”
“Others?”
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“Exes who you support.”
“There was one, yes. No longer though.”
“Oh?”
“She was studying to be a doctor. She’s qualified now and has someone else.”
“Another Dominant?”
“Yes.”
“Leila says you have two of her paintings,” I whisper.
“I used to. I didn’t really care for them. They had technical merit, but they were too colorful for me. I think Elliot has them. As we know, he has no taste.” I giggle, and he wraps his other arm around me, sloshing water over the side of the bath.
“That’s better,” he whispers and kisses my temple.
“He’s marrying my best friend.”
“Then I’d better shut my mouth,” he says.
I feel more relaxed after our bath. Wrapped in my soft Heathman robe, I gaze at the various bags on the bed. Jeez, this must be more than nightwear. Tentatively, I peek into one. A pair of jeans and a pale blue hooded sweatshirt, my size. Holy cow . . . Taylor’s bought a whole weekend’s worth of clothes, and he knows what I like. I smile, remembering this is not the first time he’s shopped for clothes for me when I was at the Heathman.
“Apart from harassing me at Clayton’s, have you ever actually gone into a store and just bought stuff?”
“Harassing you?”
“Yes. Harassing me.”
“You were flustered, if I recall. And that young boy was all over you. What was his name?”
“Paul.”
“One of your many admirers.”
I roll my eyes, and he smiles a relieved, genuine smile and kisses me.
“There’s my girl,” he whispers. “Get dressed. I don’t want you getting cold again.”
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“Ready,” I murmur. Christian is working on the Mac in the study area of the suite.
He’s dressed in black jeans and a gray cable-knit sweater, and I’m wearing the jeans, the hoodie, and a white T-shirt.
“You look so young,” Christian says softly, glancing up, his eyes glowing.
“And to think you’ll be a whole year older tomorrow.” His voice is wistful. I give him a sad smile.
“I don’t feel much like celebrating. Can we go see Ray now?”
“Sure. I wish you’d eat something. You barely touched your food.”
“Christian, please. I’m just not hungry. Maybe after we’ve seen Ray. I want to wish him goodnight.”
As we arrive at the ICU, we meet José leaving. He’s alone.
“Ana, Christian, hi.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“He was too tired to come back. He was in a car accident this morning,” José grins ruefully. “And his painkillers have kicked in. He was out for the count. I had to fight to get in to see Ray since I’m not next of kin.”
“And?” I ask anxiously.
“He’s good, Ana. Same . . . but all good.”
Relief floods my system. No news is good news.
“See you tomorrow, birthday girl?”
“Sure. We’ll be here.”
José eyes Christian quickly then pulls me into a brief hug. “Mañana. ”
“Goodnight, José.”
“Good-bye, José,” Christian says. José nods and walks down the corridor.
“He’s still nuts about you,” Christian says quietly.
“No he’s not. And even if he is . . .” I shrug because right now I just don’t care.
Christian gives me a tight smile, and my heart melts.
“Well done,” I murmur.
He frowns.
“For not frothing at the mouth.”