The Culmination (The Club Series Book 4)

by Lauren Rowe

  Or, worse, at the exact moment she leaves me for good.

  Either way, I want to be the one sitting here, holding her hand.

  Either way.

  There’s only one visitor allowed in the surgical intensive care unit at a time, no exceptions, and by God, no matter what happens, when the definitive moment comes, whichever one it is, that one visitor’s gonna be me.

  And so I sit. And wait. And listen to my Coldplay song. And talk to my wife. And squeeze her hand. Day after mind-fucking day. For four days, Sarah’s been in a near-constant, deep slumber, a quasi-coma, her blood pressure critically low, her heart rate shockingly slow, her body struggling mightily to overcome the horrific blood loss and complications she suffered after that first horrible night. The worst night of my entire life.

  Blood on the sheets.

  Sarah’s opened her eyes and stared at me blankly several times these past four days—she’s even spoken to me briefly, too—and each time, I’ve practically choked on my heart with excitement and relief. But each time, she’s quickly slipped away again, leaving me more bereaved than ever, certain I’d just witnessed Sarah’s last words.

  “I think I’ve literally run out of things to say, baby,” I say softly, holding her hand. “I’m gonna stop talking for a full year after you finally wake up. I’ll have nothing left to say.”

  I’ve told Sarah everything I could think to say about Sunny and Luna—about how beautiful they are and how much they both look like their mother. About how distinct their personalities are, already. About how they make me believe in God again. I’ve told her about my future plans for Climb and Conquer, for what it’s worth—I guess just to fill the silence, if nothing else, because right now, none of that fucking matters. I’ve told her every single one of my happy childhood memories (which didn’t take long), including the story of how my mother and I baked cupcakes for Josh’s birthday, at my insistence, because I didn’t grasp the concept that Josh and I shared a birthday.

  I’ve told Sarah about the time Mom, Dad, Josh, and I decorated a Christmas tree together, not the one in the grand entrance of the house (because that tree was always designed to impress people), but a smaller tree in our family room in the back of the house. The one just for us. I told her about how Mom was singing Christmas songs at the top of her lungs the whole time we were decorating, and how she let Josh and me make the ornaments and put them anywhere we wanted, even though we were train wrecks. I’ve got a photo of that hideous tree, with Josh and me standing in front of it in our footy-pajamas, the ornaments all bunched up on the bottom branches.

  I’ve dug so deep into my memories these past four days, I’ve even told Sarah about the time my dad took nine-year-old Josh and me fly-fishing in Montana with Uncle William and we actually had a fantastic time—a memory I didn’t even realize I had ’til now.

  “Damn it, baby,” I say quietly. “Do you really expect me to keep holding up both ends of our conversation?” I run my hand through my hair and exhale. “I always rely on you to keep me talking.”

  Her mouth twitches.

  I exhale. “Please come back to me, baby.” I touch her cheek for what seems like the millionth time today. “I love you so much. I need you.”

  Her eye twitches.

  “Sarah?”

  She rustles.

  “Sarah?”

  Sarah’s eyes flutter open.

  My heart slams against my sternum. “Sarah?”

  “Jonas,” she says softly.

  “Sarah.” My pulse is pounding so loudly in my ears, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hear Sarah’s voice if she speaks again. I try to sound calm and reassuring. “Hey, baby.”

  “The babies?”

  “Two little girls.” I’ve told her this before. Oh, God, my heart is slamming in my chest. “And they’re so beautiful.”

  A weak smile spreads across her pale face. “They’re okay?”

  I nod. “Sunny and Luna.”

  “Sunny?”

  This is the longest she’s stayed with me. And by far the most she’s talked. My heart is racing. “Yeah. Blame Josh. Marisol became Sunshine, and then Josh started calling her Sunny, and it stuck. Now everyone calls her that. Even your mom. She’s just... Sunny.”

  One side of her mouth curls up.

  “Josh did it. Blame Josh.”

  Sarah grins. God, she’s so fucking pale. “I love it.”

  “It fits her to a tee—wait ’til you see her. She’s a little light. And Luna is already hilarious.”

  “Healthy?” Her voice is the softest of whispers.

  I grab her hand and kiss it. I lean down and kiss her lips. “Yeah. Tiny but healthy. They just got off their ventilators. They’re breathing well.”

  She melts with relief.

  I kiss her lips again. “Sarah, I love you so much. I’ve been so worried.” My voice is cracking so I swallow hard to contain myself.

  “The babies are gonna be okay?”

  “Yeah, they’re gonna be okay. And so are you.” Another wave of emotion threatens to rise inside me, but I stuff it down.

  “Is Luna our Crazy Monkey?”

  I nod. “Yeah.” I bite my lip. “She’s my mini-me. I’ll apologize to her when she’s older.”

  She smiles.

  Tears suddenly fill my eyes. Shit. I didn’t want to do this.

  “Jonas.” She closes her eyes, obviously fatigued.

  I can’t hold back anymore. I lean down onto her chest and clutch her to me.

  She runs her hands through my hair.

  “Don’t leave me,” I whisper fiercely.

  She makes a cooing sound.

  “You’re gonna be fine,” I say. But I’m not sure if I’m reassuring Sarah or me.

  A nurse bolts into the room and immediately begins checking Sarah’s vital signs. I get up and pace around the room, simultaneously electrified with hope and filled with inexplicable dread. Is she really here to stay this time? Or will this be the last time I get to talk to my wife?

  “Can I see the babies?” Sarah asks the nurse.

  “As soon as the doctor gives the thumbs up. You’re gonna need to stay in bed for another day, I’m sure.”

  Sarah nods.

  “In the meantime, why don’t I grab your mother from the waiting room? She’s been begging to switch places with Jonas.” She flashes me a look of chastisement.

  I’m suddenly slammed with the most intense sensation of déjà vu I’ve experienced in all my life. Holy fuck, I’ve lived this exact moment before—and I know precisely what happens next: Gloria bursts into the room, throws herself onto Sarah’s prostrate body, sobbing, and promptly packs Sarah into her car to recuperate, without so much as a backward glance at me.

  “No,” Sarah says to the nurse, her eyes fixed on me. “I want my Jonas.” She pauses. “My sweet Jonas.” Her face softens. “My mom can wait.”

  My heart is bursting out of my chest. I know I should reply, “No, it’s okay, Sarah. Let your mom see you.” But I don’t say it. I don’t say a word.

  Sarah twists her mouth and extends her hand, beckoning me closer.

  “Would it be possible for us to be alone for a couple minutes?” I ask the nurse.

  “Well, the doctor’s on her way,” the nurse says, looking at her watch. “She’s definitely gonna want to see her right away.”

  “Just like two minutes? One minute? Half a minute?”

  The nurse smiles. “Yeah, okay. I can do that. Two minutes.” She looks at Sarah. “Your vitals have taken a giant leap for the better, Sarah. Really, really good sign.”

  The minute the nurse leaves, I kiss every inch of Sarah’s face. “I’ve got something to show you,” I mumble into her lips.

  She looks at me expectantly. God, she looks so tired.

  Wordlessly, I stand and pull off my T-shirt, revealing my new tattoo.

  “Whoa,” she says. She surveys the tattoo inked across my chest, shoulder and bicep for a long beat, her eyes wide. “Wow,” she says simpl
y.

  I stare down at her, my heart leaping out of my chest, my chest heaving.

  There’s a long beat as the Coldplay song fills the room and tells her exactly what I’m feeling—and exactly what my tattoo means.

  “Closer,” she whispers.

  I sit on the side of her bed, adrenaline coursing through me.

  Sarah touches my chest with her fingertips, and my skin electrifies under her touch. I close my eyes as her fingers slowly trace the path of my entire tattoo—beginning over my heart and meandering to my left shoulder and down to my bicep. She strokes the tattooed bulge of my bicep for a long moment, fingering every tiny twinkling star.

  “Beautiful,” she says. Her fingers return to my chest, where she pointedly touches the sun and moon inked over my heart. “Sunny and Luna,” she says, smiling weakly.

  I pause, expecting her to say something more—expecting her to comment on the galaxy of stars Coldplay is singing about right now—the galaxy of stars shooting across my flesh. But she just keeps looking at the sun and moon, seemingly in awe.

  She doesn’t understand? Even with the Coldplay song explaining it to her?

  I grab her hand and kiss it and then press it firmly onto my bare chest, right over my heart. “The sun and moon and stars. The sun and moon are surrounded by a sky full of stars, baby—and that means you. Because you’re my universe.” I send her hand skimming along the newly inked stars spraying out from my chest to my shoulder. “You’re the stars, Sarah. You’re the galaxy.” I send her hand down to my bicep, and around, letting her fingers touch every twinkling star that whispers her name. “Listen to the words of the song, baby. You’re my everything.”

  Chapter 24

  Jonas

  This right here, sitting with Sarah in the NICU, holding our babies, is all I’ve been dreaming of doing since the first moment I laid eyes on my daughters five days ago. I’m holding tiny, naked Luna against my bare chest, right against my new tattoo, and Sarah’s sitting in her wheelchair two feet away from me, singing “You Are My Sunshine,” holding tiny, naked Sunny against her bare chest, a soft blanket covering them both for modesty’s sake.

  I wish I could freeze time and stay in this moment forever.

  Sarah stops singing and grins at me through impending tears. “This is amazing.”

  “You make a much prettier mommy than Josh,” I say.

  She wipes her eyes. “Oh, I dunno. Josh is awfully pretty.”

  “Don’t let Josh hear you say that. His ego is big enough.”

  “Josh has been coming down here a lot, huh?”

  I nod. “He’s practically lived down here, along with your mom. I’m sure the girls think their parents are Josh and Gloria.”

  “My mom was in rare form last night, wasn’t she?”

  Shortly after I showed Sarah my new tattoo yesterday, she drifted off to sleep again—and I thought Gloria was going to hurl an axe into my back for keeping her out of the room while Sarah was fully conscious. But, thankfully for my health, about three hours later, Sarah awoke again, that time even stronger and rosier than before, and it was clear to everyone she was on the mend for good.

  “I didn’t know there was yet another level to your mom’s ugly cry. I thought I’d seen the highest level after the bathroom incident.”

  Sarah shrugs. “The woman’s passionate.”

  There’s a beat as Sarah and I canoodle our respective babies.

  “What about middle names? Did you decide those yet?” Sarah asks.

  “No, I was waiting for you. What do you think?”

  She purses her lips. “Maybe Sunshine Glory—in honor of my mom? Total hippie name. Might as well go full-on Seattle hippie-dippie.”

  “Your mom will have herself another ugly cry over that, I’m sure. And Luna?”

  “That one’s easy. Luna Graciela. After your mom.”

  I bite my lip and nod. She’s right. That’s an easy one.

  “Have you been okay, Jonas? I mean, I know you haven’t been okay. But have you been really, really bad while I’ve been out?”

  Of course, I’ve been really, really bad—wrecked beyond anything she could possibly imagine—but she doesn’t need to know that. “Yeah, I’ve been okay. I had the girls. They helped keep me strong.” Actually, now that I just said that, I think it’s true.

  She nods. “Did you come down to the NICU a lot?”

  I shake my head. “Not nearly as much as Josh and Kat and your mom. I’ve been sitting by your beside probably, oh, twenty-two hours a day.”

  She makes a sympathetic face.

  “They only let one visitor in the SICU at a time, so, occasionally, I had to give up my seat to your mom or Kat. And that’s when I’d come down here with Josh. Or to the tattoo parlor down the street.” I grin.

  She gazes at Luna, curled up in a little ball over my chest, right over the sun and moon emblazoned on my skin. “You’re an amazing person, Jonas. A lesser man would have been broken by everything you’ve been through.”

  I pause. “I was broken.”

  “No, you weren’t. You were sprained. That’s the thing that amazes me. You never break. You’re so strong.” She bites her lip. “And sweet. And good.” Her face contorts with emotion. “All I’ve ever wanted is to make you happy, Jonas—to make your life easier.” Her eyes well with tears. “To fix that incredible sadness in your eyes.”

  “You did.”

  She’s overcome. She doesn’t reply.

  “See?” I widen my eyes. “Happy eyes.”

  She grins, but a lone tear tracks down her cheek.

  “As long as you’re healthy and by my side and our girls are okay, I’ll never have sad eyes again. I promise.”

  Her face is turning red with emotion. “I just wish things didn’t have to be so hard for you all the time.”

  I scoff. “Nothing worth having is easy.”

  “Plato?”

  “No. Josh Faraday.”

  She chuckles. “Your brother really is a wise and powerful man, isn’t he?”

  “Ssh. You never know when he might be lurking somewhere.”

  Her face turns earnest. “So you’re good, then? You don’t need to talk about anything?”

  I look down at Luna. “I’m good.”

  “Nothing at all you need to work through? Get out of your system? That night was pretty freaking horrible.”

  I exhale and shake my head. “I don’t want to think about that night ever again—except to remind myself, if I’m ever stupid enough to need reminding, that I’m the luckiest bastard in the whole world.”

  She nods and looks back down at Sunny in her arms.

  A lump is rising in my throat, but I swallow it down.

  I thought I knew what love was before this moment.

  I thought I knew what happiness was.

  But I was a fucking fool.

  “Let’s switch, love,” Sarah says. “I wanna hold Luna for a bit.”

  I call a nurse over and she helps us make the switch.

  I sit back down in my chair with Sunny nuzzled up to my bare chest.

  “Gracie never felt quite like this,” Sarah says. “Gracie always felt human. These two feel like monkeys. Literally. Hairless monkeys.” She touches the top of Luna’s head. “Oooo ooo eee eee,” she says softly.

  I raise my eyebrows. “What’s that?”

  “I’m speaking to her in her native tongue.” She grins.

  That lump rises in my throat again, but I stuff it down. This right here is the ultimate peak of happiness—the divine original form of love-ness.

  “What are you thinking about, love? Your face is priceless right now.”

  I bite my lip. My thoughts are too big for words.

  “Man, I’d love to be inside your head right now, love. I bet it’s like the Fourth of July in there right now—all philosophical and shit.”

  “Hey, language.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m sure Kat will whip us both into shape.”

>   “Who knew the Party Girl would become such a butt-kicker? You know what Kat told me the other day? She and Josh want to have four kids.”

  “Four?”

  “Yep. Crazy. As long as I’ve known her, Kat’s always said she didn’t want kids at all. And now look at her. She’s a barfing, baby-makin’ machine.”

  We’re both quiet for a moment.

  “You just never know where life’s gonna take you, huh?” I finally say.

  “True dat,” Sarah says. She looks down at Luna against her chest. “I feel this overwhelming maternal instinct kicking in. It’s the craziest feeling. Like if anyone ever tries to hurt my two little baby-monkeys, this momma bear would go Latina on their ass so fast, they wouldn’t even have time to notice all the mixed metaphors in that sentence.”

  I laugh.

  She sighs. “Oh, Jonas. Never in a million years did I think things would turn out this way when that cocky application of yours landed in my inbox.”

  I smile at her.

  “What are you thinking, love? Your face is just so damned adorable.”

  I pause, considering. I’ve thought a thousand things since we first sat down to cuddle our babies together for the first time. But I think I can summarize my thoughts pretty succinctly, actually. “I’m thinking, ‘I’m so happy.’”

  Sarah beams a smile at me. “That’s all any human could ever hope for.”

  Chapter 25

  Jonas

  I squeeze Sarah’s hand. “Okay, no problem,” I say to Dr. Johnston, even though I want to blurt, “Motherfucker!”

  We’re sitting in Sarah’s hospital room, getting instructions from Dr. Johnston before Sarah’s imminent discharge from the hospital, and the good doctor has just dropped an atomic bomb: there shall be no sex in the Faraday household for a solid six to eight weeks.

  “There’s a serious risk of infection,” the doctor explains further. “And, of course, you need time to heal internally.”

  “Okay, got it,” Sarah says.

  I look at Sarah, expecting her to catch my eye and nonverbally acknowledge the horror of our shared plight, but she doesn’t. She just keeps looking at Dr. Johnston like they’re having a conversation about the weather.

  “Okay,” the doctor says, looking down at Sarah’s medical file. “As far as pain meds, how has the Vicodin been working for you? Do you want to keep—”