Page 48 of Beau
She did not look like his Georgie. She looked feeble and weak, quite unlike herself. He wanted to suggest they terminate the pregnancy, but did not dare voice it. He was trying hard not to do anything to upset her.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” she was saying. “I had to have my own way and look at the result.”
“You are going to be fine.”
“Will I be?” she asked wearily, her eyes closing. “I want to stay awake and talk to you, but I am falling asleep. These damn drugs.” Her voice was fading, and he knew in a few seconds she would be fast asleep.
“In sleep you will get healing," he whispered and watched as she succumbed to the drugs coursing through her veins.
He waited, still holding her hand as he listened to her, even breathing. Bending forward, he kissed one smooth cheek, his touch lingering. He missed her, missed holding her in his arms and feeling her curves against his. He longed for the touch of her hands on his body and the excitement that would build up whenever they were in bed together.
Placing her hand carefully on top of the sheets, he slid the chair backward and rose, trying to quiet his rampaging desire. The doctors and everyone else were right. He needed to get out and go home. Take a shower, a freaking cold one, and eat something.
Taking one last look at her, he left the room and closed the door behind him.
*****
“You have to stop calling me.” Beau dragged himself up against the pillows and blinked the sleep from his eyes.
He had met with the head of the R&D department to hash out their next strategy and from there he had checked on his wife again to make certain she was still breathing and then told the medical personnel that he would be going home for a few hours.
He ate the meal Mrs. Greene had prepared and went upstairs to take a shower and stumbled into bed. He had been sleeping for five hours when his phone rang. Glancing at the bedside clock, he saw the time and felt his heart lodging inside his throat as he wondered if it was from the hospital.
“I am checking on you.” Her voice was soft and contrite. “Nothing is wrong with that.”
“We cannot be doing this.” Reaching over, he switched on the lamp and dragged his fingers through his hair.
“Darling, I thought we agreed that we would start over as friends.”
“I have to concentrate on my wife, she is not doing so well.”
“I am sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”
He laughed softly. “Like what? Coming over and holding my hands?”
“That’s not all I want to hold. I don’t like to know that you are hurting.”
“Enough!”
“I am sorry. No, I am not. Darling, I am still in love with you, and I know you feel something for me too.”
Leaning his head back, he dragged air into his lungs. “It’s too late.”
“I cannot believe it is. I think about you every day Beau.” Her voice had dropped to a husky whisper. “I recall the times we spent together, the way you held me, how you made me laugh. You are the best lover I ever had and each time I remember–”
“Enough," he repeated grimly. “I mean it, Miriam. We are over. What we had is finished. I am in love with my wife and even though we are going through our own brand of hell, it will always be her. Now, I am going to hang up and I would appreciate you not calling me at this time of night, is that clear?”
There was a ponderous silence for a few seconds before she answered. “All right Beau," she told him quietly. “I will adhere to your request for now. But hear this– I am not giving up. I know you still feel something for me. I made a mistake and want to correct it. Good night.”
Flinging the phone away from him, he scrubbed his hands over his face. He should tell her to go to hell, but frankly, Miriam was the last person on his mind right now.
Picking up the phone, he dialed his wife’s room and felt a jolt of surprise when she answered.
“You should be sleeping.” Her voice sounded stronger, and he felt weak with relief.
“I could say the same about you. Why are you up?”
“Are you kidding? I have been sleeping for hours and they just fed me. Guess what?”