“You’ve got to tell these people to stop, Isobel. I don’t think this room can take another bouquet,” Beth said, as Isobel tried to fit another vase of flowers on the crowded bedside table.
Her hospital room was quite a bit smaller than the suite at the Kensington Hotel, but it wasn't bad. There was a window that looked out over the six-story concrete parking structure. And she could tell time by listening to the sounds of the buses and commuter trains passing by.
Flowers had started flooding in the day after she’d been admitted, right around the time the story hit the news. Well, not every detail made the news. It turned out that the CIA wasn't too keen on sharing the bit about its treasonous agent. They mostly kept to the part about the bringing down of Salvatore Munoz and stopping a future attack on the oil reserves, and how a citizen who was critical to the whole mission was injured in the attack.
It all played very nicely on the six o'clock news.
The flowers appeared after that. There hadn't been enough room in her cramped hospital room for all of them. So Beth had shared the bouquets with the nurses and all the other patients on the floor.
“You try stopping them,” Isobel said. “These are from my Aunt Maritza.”
Beth tried not to laugh, and not just because she had three badly bruised ribs, a busted lip and a bullet hole that went clean through her left arm. She knew she couldn't change people. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to anymore.
“Look, Isobel. I know words aren't going to be enough, but I'm so sorry that I ruined your wedding.”
Isobel picked up Beth's hand. “You didn’t ruin anything. My uncle was the one who did that. I should be the one apologizing to you for what my family did to you.”
“It's not your fault. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't.”
Isobel nodded. “I understand. And it's okay. Jordan and I picked a new date.”
Beth's face lit up. “When?”
“Next Friday. We've settled on a nice civil ceremony down at the courthouse.”
Beth's face fell. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be,” Isobel said. A huge smile lit up her face. “Do you have any idea how well armed courthouses are?”
Beth winced as she laughed again.
“You look tired, Beth. I'm thinking I better go and let you rest.”
Isobel turned to leave, but before she did she turned and looked at Alex.
“So...Alex, right?”
“Right,” he said.
“I guess that you're not a gigolo then?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I guess not.”
“That means I owe you an apology,” Isobel said.
“It's not necessary.”
“I'm thinking that it is,” Isobel said. “But what I said still stands. Don't you dare hurt her.”
“I have no plans to,” he said, and tightened his grasp on Beth's hand.
“Good. Because you don't scare me, Mr. CIA Agent. I'll still come after you, whoever you are.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Alex said with a laugh.
Beth turned to Alex once Isobel was gone.
“You don't have to sleep in that chair again tonight. The doctors say I'm doing much better.”
He shook his head. “I'm not here because I have to be, Beth. I want to be with you. I love you.”
Her heart swelled. Those simple words did more to heal her than any doctor's medicine.
“Yeah, but you could get yourself a good night's sleep in a real bed.”
“I don't need a bed,” he said. “I need you. How many times do I have to tell you before it gets through? I'm not leaving. Not now. Not ever.”
Beth was thinking that a hundred might do. Maybe a thousand. Maybe a lifetime’s worth.
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