“I’m here.”
“What time is it?”
“Seven thirty-eight.”
“Still Wednesday?”
“Yes.”
“I know it’s not Thursday yet, but ask me.”
“I’m asking. Yours, mine, somewhere with a door that locks and a bed that fits both of us.” I touched the edge of the butterfly bandage. “I’m too old to pretend I’m sleeping over, Dane. I want to be home.”
He looked at me for a beat.
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes and took a breath.
His thumb rubbed the back of my hand. I leaned forward and kissed him carefully. He smelled of antiseptic, but his mouth tasted like Dane.
He kissed back and tightened his grip on my hand.
When I pulled back, he said, “Don’t go.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Cabot’s in the cafeteria. Eamon and Vega are at Brattle House. Köhler and Wiley told me to come.”
Dane closed his eyes.
“I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“I know.”
“Sleep.”
“Mm.”
He dozed.
I sat, held his hand, and watched him breathe.
Chapter twenty-three
Dane
The Harbor View Inn gave us a ground-floor room. Through the windows Edgartown Harbor was a black plane, three boat lights moving on it, and beyond those, the Sound.
It was Friday night. I was on my back on the bed in a t-shirt and the loose surgical sweats they’d sent me home in. They wrapped my thigh from groin to knee, and the painkiller they’d cleared me to take after dinner had taken the edge off without taking me with it. The mattress was firmer than I’d expected from a December rental on the Vineyard.
Farrow lay on his side facing me, propped on his elbow with his cheek against his hand. He’d showered an hour ago and was in a black thermal and sweats, his hair pushed back wet and showing darker at the roots. He’d been watching me for at least forty seconds without speaking.
A takeout bag sat on the chair by the door. We’d eaten chowder out of paper cups and split a sandwich between us.
“Move closer,” I said.
He slid up next to me and lowered his face close to mine. He was careful to not bump my right thigh. The inside of my leftelbow was still purple from the IV. He reached a hand over my stomach and rested it on my t-shirt.
Farrow leaned in and kissed me. His mouth tasted slightly of toothpaste. It was comforting.