Interpreter

by Kristy Marie

  I wrap my fingers around Milah’s hands and bring one to my mouth.

  “I want to do this.”

  She nods, coming in for a hug and grabbing Oliver too. We stay like that for a minute until Dr. Callahan comes in and asks if I’m ready.

  Milah pulls Oliver off the bed, holding his hand tightly. I look at my family huddled in this small space of a room, eyes glistening, with anxious hands. I take in everything in this moment, because no matter what happens in the operating room, nothing will change. I will still have this family when I wake up. I will still have an amazing girlfriend and one soon-to-be kick-ass son and another on the way. And, dammit, I swear on my life, nothing will change with me. I won’t let it. I won’t let them down.

  I turn to Dr. Callahan and nod. “I’m ready.”

  My family clears out, allowing the nurses to move the bed and wheel me down the hall. I wave at Oliver, and something changes in his face. Tears fall and he takes off in a sprint for me. The nurses stop and Milah takes off after him. I’m up, ready to meet him halfway, but he beats me, climbing back onto the bed. His face is red and he’s swiping tears angrily when he signs.

  “No matter what, I will always hear you here.” He pulls my hand to his heart before letting go and signing again. “Promise me. Promise you’ll come back.” He jams that small finger into my chest, and I swear I’ve never loved someone as much as I love this kid.

  I push him back by the shoulders so I can look at him.

  “I promise.” I poke his little chest as he did mine. “Take care of Ms. Iglesias,” I sign, smiling at Milah as she rolls her eyes. “She thinks she’s tough, but she isn’t.”

  Oliver looks back at Milah who smiles, opening her arms for him. He gives me one more stern look before he nods and walks back to Milah and Felipe. When Milah has her arms around him, the nurses start moving, and we’re rolling through the doors to the OR where my family can’t follow, and I sign to all of them, “I love you.”

  The last thing I see before the bright lights of the OR hit me is all ten members of my family signing back. They love me. No matter what happens, I won’t disappoint them.

  “Okay, Tim. Are you ready for the first day of the rest of your life?”

  I’m prepped and strapped to the table, my nerves increasing by the second when I recognize a set of eyes that I’ve enjoyed annoying over the course of years.

  “What are you doing in here, Phillip?”

  Dr. Parker pulls down his face mask and flashes me a toothy smile. “You didn’t think I would miss this, did you?”

  I laugh and direct my comment to Dr. Callahan. “You both get on my goddamned nerves,” I tell them, but my chest feels lighter knowing that a friend is at my side.

  Dr. Parker puts his hand on my arm. “Let’s do this,” he says with a firm nod.

  I look at both Dr. Parker and Dr. Callahan before I take a deep breath and exhale, “I’m ready.”

  Six weeks later…

  “I don’t understand why he won’t let anyone go in there with him.”

  I’m pacing behind the office door. Both of my boys have been in there for thirty minutes now.

  “Should it be taking this long?” I ask Anniston, who seems relaxed in this highly stressful situation.

  “Calm down, Mami.” I shrug Felipe off. I can’t calm down, and he shouldn’t be telling me to. If Marcus was in this same situation, we would all have to sit on him to keep him from rushing through the door.

  “Do you think it worked?” I ask no one and everyone. Please, God, let it have worked.

  “Mija! What’s going on?” My mom’s voice startles me so much that I drop the phone. “Sorry, Mami. I totally forgot you were on Skype.”

  Shit. Did I call her, or did she call me? Have mercy, I am losing my damn mind staring at the closed door! Open it! I pick up the phone and hand it to Felipe. I am not the one who should be updating my mom. All I want to do is barrel through that door and grab my boys in a bruising hug. I don’t care if Tim ever hears a single sound again. None of it matters to me. It didn’t months ago, and it sure doesn’t now.

  “Anniston,” I plead. “Will you bang on the door and demand they let us in? It’s been half an hour!”

  I’m getting desperate if I am asking Tim’s commander to demand answers. No one fucks with her, and if she wanted to get in that door, she, or the men at her side, would make it happen. Instead she gives me a patient smile. “He’ll let us in when he’s ready.”

  I don’t give one flying shit if he’s ready. I’m ready to hug him—to kiss him stupid for locking me out of this epic moment.

  “I think I’m going to lose it. Pe, do you have your flask on you?”

  “Mija!” my mom scolds from thousands of miles away. “Be patient.”

  Be patient. Easy for her to say. She didn’t see this man struggle. She didn’t hear the words he spoke about his mother going through this same experience and coming out no better than when she went in. Unlike his mother, Tim isn’t alone. He has a waiting room full of family waiting to rejoice or cry with him. And our little boy is in there, hopefully strong and resilient, just like he’s always been.

  Tim hasn’t been able to stay away from Oliver for a minute. Their bond has only grown stronger. Sometimes I’m a little jealous, but then they make fun of me and make sure to include me in some of their things and all is right with the world.

  The door creaks open and I leap, only rolling my ankle just a little to get my fingers on the open door. “Whoa there,” says the smart-ass at the door. And they say doctors have no personality. “He’s ready to see you, Milah.”

  Oh God. That doesn’t sound good. That sounds like he had to work up the courage and cry it out before he could face me.

  I root around in my purse for the tissues I stashed. “Okay.” I take a deep breath. I wonder if Anniston would think it’s weird if I asked her and Pe to hold my hands. Yeah, it totally would be, and then Tim would know that I’m not handling this well, and then he won’t handle it well.

  OMG. Stop, Milah. Stop. Breathe and put one new shoe in front of the other.

  I nod at the doctor who is partly responsible for my impending meltdown. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

  His eyebrows arch like he isn’t so sure, but he opens the door wide until I see that super stubborn man of mine with his head bent and both hands covering the headphones over his ears. I hear Anniston gasp behind me just as I notice Oliver rubbing Tim’s back in soothing circles.

  It didn’t work. The look on his face is clear. His eyes are swollen, and his body sways back and forth as if he’s self-soothing. I rush past the doctor, forgetting my mom hollering on the phone. Felipe can deal with her. My only goal—apart from not slipping on this tile—is getting to my man in 2.2 seconds. I get to Oliver first, tucking him into my side and moving toward his hero, who still won’t look at me.

  I stroke his back, staying quiet as the door closes with a soft click.

  “Milah,” Dr. Callahan says, “why don’t you take a seat over there.”

  I’d rather not. Something is going on with my man, and I want to be right here, within arm’s reach. But Oliver tugs me away as Dr. Callahan turns a knob on Tim’s headphones.

  Why does he need headphones? I go to ask that exact question when Tim mumbles, “You’re so stubborn.”

  I’m stubborn? He should take a look in the mirror. He reigns supreme in the stubborn kingdom. I scoff, standing my ground, watching Tim for any signs that today is a good day or a bad day.

  “What is going on? Can someone please tell me what is going on here?” I wanted to say what the fuck is going on here, but Oliver can still hear, and the last thing I want him to hear is me dropping an f-bomb in a stressful situation.

  Dr. Callahan, or Richard, as we sometimes call him, smiles at me and it’s joyful.

  “The surgery was a success, right?” I just know it was. But why the headphones? “Is it too loud for him?” I wonder aloud, tugging Oliver behind me so I can get
a closer look at Tim’s face, which is still buried between his hands. I trace along his long digits, running my hands through his soft hair before tugging his head up and meeting the cutest grin I’ve ever seen on his face.

  I arch a brow, my hands signing the words, “What the fuck are you doing, Timaeus?”

  His brows mimic mine, and I want to kiss the shit out of him. Right in front of his doctor and Oliver.

  “Promise you won’t say a word,” he signs.

  I make a zipping motion over my lips. “I promise.”

  Slowly, Tim rises from the chair, and Oliver leaves my side, joining his hero and taking his hand instead.

  “This entire six weeks, I’ve wondered what sound I wanted to hear first—if the surgery worked.” His adorable brown eyes twinkle. I shit you not. “I made a list.”

  Of course he did.

  “There are so many things—so many people—that I yearned to hear. What they sounded like, if their voices had matured, what my name sounded like coming out of their mouths.” He looks at me and winks. He has to keep this PG for the kiddo. What he really means is he wanted to hear those moans in all their high-pitched glory.

  “But, after much debate, it came down to one word.”

  One word. Okay. That could be so many things. He could mean—“Oh my God, what are you doing? Are you getting down on one knee?”

  Tim sighs and shakes his head. “You promised not to speak.”

  “Yeah, but—” He gives me a pointed look. “You’re right. I did. Continue.”

  Tim and Oliver share an exasperated look, and I’m not sure I appreciate it at all, but then the little munchkin, who can sign like a tiny pro now, drops to his knee too, and I know that this is about much more than the surgery.

  “Milah,” Tim says, and Oliver signs, “the first word I want to hear is the word yes.” Dr. Callahan removes the headphones from his ears, and I’m already sniffling, watching Oliver complete the signs on one knee. “Milah, mi amor, this is the second time I’m asking you this question. Your citizenship is not in jeopardy. Neither is your job.” He points to Oliver and himself, pulling a black box out of his pocket. He snaps it open, revealing a sparkling blue diamond. It reminds me of the aqua waters back home. I bet he knew that when he chose the ring. He knew I would love it.

  “This is us… asking you to marry us for the rest of our lives.”

  Do you think if I say, “hell yes,” that’ll kill the moment? Should I just say it how he wants me to? I mean, he’s thought about it. It’s been his dream to hear the one word.

  “Milah…?” he prompts.

  “Si! Yes! Hell freaking yes! I’ll marry you, Papi!” I slam into the man that could quite literally bench press my entire body, crying on those massive shoulders as I pull our little boy to us. “And you, my boy, I’d love to be your mami.”

  Are broody and stubborn men your jam? Read Cade’s story in Gorgeous and witness an epic story that will pull at your heartstrings and your panties.

  Or, if you’re in need of a laugh after Interpreter, you can check out Hayes’s wild ride in Drifter. He promises you won’t miss Tim.

  Like all of my books, they’re free in Kindle Unlimited.

  Love Interpreter? Want to read more from this series? All books are standalones and are free in Kindle Unlimited.

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  To the best readers ever, you guys give me life. Every. Freaking. Day. Books just don’t happen; they need to be inspired—wanted. You did this. You, my gorgeous and brilliant readers, made this book happen. And for that, I will never be able to thank you enough. Interpreter took me on a ride of a lifetime. It challenged me, not only as a writer, but as a human. So thank you for reading this book. Thank you for making it to this page. Thank you for spreading the word and inspiring me every day to be better, write better, and love harder. You guys make the world go round.

  Whether you loved or hated Interpreter, I would be forever grateful if you left a review as one more oorah. Reviews help an author so much—even a one sentence one.

  Laura, Laura, Laura. What can I say? You are who Milah inspires to be. I don’t think I can thank you enough for enlightening me on all things Costa Rica. I very much enjoyed learning Spanish and southerning it up for you. You are amazeballs and I’m so honored you’ve been beside me every step of the way.

  Gah! Jaime! How many times did we read this book? Like twenty billion? Thank you for being my Dr. Parker and still being my friend after the nightmare that is me when writing a book. And for making me look like a writer—that’s the most important part. I heart you to the moon and back. And Go Braves!

  Sarah P., can we bottle some of your awesomeness and sell it? I think the world will be a better place. Thank you for reading this story a nauseating amount of times and making me look like I could actually type complete sentences. You always have my back and I love the poo out of you!

  My street team. Can I just fly all over the world to hug y’all? Thank you for holding it down when I disappeared from social media writing Tim. You are the true heroes!

  Jessica, I just love you. The end. You are my human and there is nothing left to say. Book after book, you’re still by my side, and there aren’t words to express the gratitude I have for your very existence.

  Ajee, thank you for always being my sounding board and confidant. You truly are one of a kind.

  Sarah S., can I just say that I’m always impressed how much you juggle and still find time to deal with my erratic behavior. Your words calm me and your graphics inspire me. We’ve already established that you’re locked into this bad marriage but I feel like we should write it down to make it official. Please sign here:________.

  To my betas who are always there with hundreds of messages in the group chat. You guys brighten my day with your mere existence. Muah!

  Autumn. Thanks for not killing me for rescheduling Interpreter twice. I probably deserved at least a swat, but I appreciate you letting it go with a heavy sigh. You are the glue that holds this disaster together.

  Virginia of Hot Tree Editing. Hello, my name is Kristy and I don’t like to use commas. I like to test your editing skills by seeing where you think they should go. Thank you for making me look good and always telling me I’m funny. My husband says you’re just being nice, but we both know he’s wrong.

  Letitia, you outdid yourself on this cover. I mean, have you freaking ever seen something this gorgeous? Thank you for always indulging me and answering my million questions. You shall only get rid of me with a restraining order.

  Stacy, of Champagne Formats, thank you for bringing the words to life. I’m in awe of your talent and patience!

  Bex, thank you for not blocking me when I didn’t know what in the sweet hell I wanted graphically. You’re a trooper for holding it together until we got it just right!

  A special thank you to the best reader group ever established: Kristy’s Commanders. You guys are my safe haven.

  And a very special thank you to Juli Anfolisi, who takes my breath away with her excitement for these characters with stunning images. You, ma’am, are the sweetest thing ever!

  Kristy Marie lives in Georgia with her husband and three children. When she isn’t reading or writing, you can find her at SunTrust Field cheering on the Atlanta Braves.

 

 

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