One and Only Boxed Set

by Melanie Harlow

  You once asked me to let you love me, and I promised I would. Let me keep my promise.

  Now, then, always and only yours,

  Dallas

  My eyes filled. My stomach churned. What if this was just his fear and adrenaline talking? What if he woke up after the surgery and said, Sorry, changed my mind. What if I showed up at the hospital and he refused to see me?

  But … what if he meant these things? What if my head was wrong? What if my heart knew the truth? Which part of myself could I trust?

  I closed my eyes. I breathed deeply, in and out, aware of each breath, turning my focus inward. Somewhere inside me was the answer, I was sure of it.

  I heard Madam Psuka’s voice. Then the moment the dream is preparing you for has not yet come. The story is not done.

  I drifted deeper.

  Still the voice was hers. Be stronger. Be braver. Trust yourself. Open yourself up to all possibilities. Stop seeing yourself trapped in a cycle of heartbreak, and a way out will present itself to you—but not if you refuse to let it. Not if you refuse love.

  And deeper still, until I’m in a room full of people, but they can’t see me.

  I keep trying to talk to them, but I can’t speak. I can’t even open my mouth.

  I look down and notice I’m naked.

  That’s when I see the snake.

  Slithering through the crowd along the dark wood floor, it’s heading straight for me.

  Panicked, I start running for the door at the end of the room, carrying the clock. It’s ticking loudly.

  Eventually, I reached the door but discover there is no handle. And it won’t budge.

  For the first time, I turn around and face the snake. It stops short of me.

  I hear a voice. It is my own, not speaking aloud, but inside me. It says, I am not afraid to love.

  The snake hisses, as if it heard me.

  I welcome the voice, and it speaks again. I am not afraid to love.

  The snake begins to vanish.

  I am not afraid to love.

  The room is empty now; the people have disappeared. I look at the snake again and discover it’s gone.

  I am not afraid to love.

  I walk to the center of the room and set the clock on the floor, where it continues to tick loudly, neither fast nor slow, but with a steady, reassuring rhythm. Then I turn and look around. The closed door is still there. But there is another door as well, on the opposite side of the room. It has a handle.

  I am not afraid to love.

  I move toward the door, slowly at first, but eventually start to run. When I reach the door, breathless and exhilarated, I grab the handle and pull hard. It’s heavy and does not open easily, but I don’t give up. I grasp harder and pull with all my strength, will it to give with all my might. I don’t know what’s on the other side, but I know I have to get there.

  With one final heave, the door swings open.

  “I am not afraid to love,” I whisper.

  And I run through.

  I woke up with a start, my eyelids flying open. Immediately it all comes back to me—the phone call with Emme, the messages and email from Dallas, the dream.

  “Shit!” I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. I look at the clock on the bedside table and see it’s after seven already. “Shit, shit, shit!” Was Dallas in surgery already? I’d never replied to his email!

  I jumped out of bed and frantically got dressed, brushed my teeth, and braided my disheveled hair, all the while throwing all my crap into my suitcase without even folding it. Thankfully, my phone had charged all night. My first call was to Emme.

  “Hello?” she said sleepily.

  “Hey, it’s me. Listen. I’m not coming home today. I’m going to Boston.”

  “You are?” Suddenly she was wide awake.

  “Yes. I read Dallas’s messages.”

  She squealed. “You did?”

  “Yes.” My stomach was jumping around like mad. “And at first I wasn’t sure what to believe, but now I think you were right and he is being sincere. At least, my gut is telling me that.”

  “Oh God, Maren. I’m going to feel really bad if I’m wrong.”

  “You won’t have to.” I shut my suitcase and zipped it up. “This is my choice. I know it’s a risk, but I’m willing to take it. I can’t be afraid of love, Emme. Madam Psuka was right. Even if it means getting hurt again, choosing love is always the right thing to do.”

  Emme sniffed. “I’m going to cry.”

  “Don’t cry. I need you.”

  “Anything. What can I do?”

  “Can you book me a hotel room in Boston? I don’t even know what hospital he’s in, and I won’t until I get hold of Finn, but any place will do.” I glanced around the room one last time.

  “Consider it done. How are you getting to Boston?”

  “I don’t know that either.”

  She laughed. “This is crazy, Maren. But I kind of love it.”

  “Wish me luck.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to need it, but good luck.”

  We hung up, and I rushed out of the room, dragging my suitcase behind me.

  It turned out the easiest way for me to get to Boston was by bus. I caught a taxi into Bangor in time to get on the nine a.m. coach, and sank into my seat with relief. I felt like I’d hardly stopped moving since I’d woken up this morning. Once I was on my way, I used my phone to send an email to Finn.

  Hey Finn, it’s Maren Devine. Dallas reached out to me, and I’m on my way to Boston. Can you please let me know which hospital he’s in? Thank you!

  I gave him my phone number in case he wanted to text back, then sat back and exhaled. My emotions were all over the place—anxiety about the operation, relief about Dallas’s email, excitement about seeing him, uncertainty about the future. There were a lot of questions to be answered, but I told myself they could all wait. Right now, the most important thing was getting to his side. I felt terrible that he’d gone into surgery thinking I didn’t want him back. Hopefully, I’d be there when he woke up.

  Hurry, I willed the bus driver. Hurry.

  It was after noon, and I still had about an hour to go before reaching Boston when I got a text from Finn.

  Maren, great to hear from you. Dallas is out of surgery, and the doctor said it went well. He was able to get it all.

  I paused, dropping the phone to my lap, and tears welled in my eyes. I closed them in a silent prayer of thanks, and wiped beneath them when I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over.

  “Would you like a tissue?” asked the woman next to me, pulling a travel pack of Kleenex from her purse. She reminded me of one of the little old ladies in my Yoga for Seniors class.

  I smiled at her and took one. “Thanks. It’s good news. I’m just a little emotional.”

  “I understand.” She smiled back.

  I dabbed at my eyes and went back to the text.

  We are at Mass General. He’s in ICU right now, but all vitals are good. Text me when you arrive and I will come get you.

  I replied, saying I would, and thanking him profusely. I wondered if he knew anything about the email Dallas had sent and what he thought about my coming to Boston. If he didn’t know, he probably thought I was nuts. Then again, he’d told me not to give up.

  I texted Emme and Stella and brought them both up to speed, then I fidgeted and sighed and shifted around in my seat, impatient with the last portion of the ride. I needed to be there already!

  Emme replied that she’d booked me a room at a hotel called The Liberty, and the reservation was under her name and credit card. I could switch it when I checked in. Stella replied that she was happy to hear the surgery went well and wished me luck.

  When the bus stopped, I practically mowed people down to get off it and plowed through the station to get to the taxi line. On the way to Mass General, I fidgeted some more, and my stomach growled like crazy because I hadn’t ever stopped to eat anything.

  At the hospital, I got
out of the cab and rushed inside, where I texted Finn. He replied in seconds that he was on his way to get me. That was when I first stopped and thought about what I looked like. I hadn’t even showered, I was wearing gray yoga pants, a backless, loose-fitting, mint green top with an orange sports bra underneath, I hadn’t combed my hair before hastily whipping it into a braid, and a quick look at my feet revealed I’d worn two different shoes. I’d bought the same pair of mesh slip-ons in navy and brown because they were so comfortable, and I’d accidentally put on one of each this morning without knowing it.

  I glanced at my suitcase and wondered if it would be terrible manners to open it up here in the lobby and dig out one or the other color. But before I came to a conclusion, I heard my name.

  “Maren?”

  I turned and saw an older, slightly less muscular version of Dallas walking toward me, holding a Styrofoam coffee cup. The resemblance was enough to make my belly flip-flop, although, as he got closer, I saw more differences. His hair was a little thinner and darker, his forehead had more lines, and his chin didn’t have a cleft. But when he smiled, I saw Dallas again.

  “Hi,” I said, throwing my arms around him before I could stop myself.

  He laughed and hugged me back a little awkwardly. “Hi. I’m glad you made it.”

  “Me too.” I released him and stood back. “Although I’m a little mortified. I just realized I’m wearing two different shoes.”

  Smiling, Finn shook his head. “Dallas isn’t going to care about your shoes, although that’s pretty funny. Your mind must have been elsewhere this morning?”

  “Uh, yeah. So everything went okay?” I asked nervously.

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “Is he awake?”

  “He’s sleeping right now. Follow me.”

  While we walked to the elevators, Finn explained the surgery to me and said that even though he’d been awake, Dallas probably wouldn’t remember much and hadn’t felt any pain. “He’s got to be in neuro-ICU for at least a day so they can monitor him closely for bleeding, infection, or seizure activity. Barring any issues like that, he’ll be moved to the tenth floor tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Did the surgeon say whether the mass was benign or malignant?”

  Finn smiled. “Looks benign. We’ll know for sure when the biopsy results are back.”

  “Oh, thank God.” I touched my chest, breathing a huge sigh of relief.

  “I didn’t tell him you were coming,” Finn said. “I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”

  I bit my lip. “Will the shock of seeing me hurt him?”

  Finn laughed. “No. I think he’ll be very glad to know you’re here.”

  “Okay.”

  Finn studied the lid of his coffee cup. “He told me what happened.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah. We’ve …” He cleared his throat. “We’ve been talking a lot more over the last week or so. Last night, he sort of spilled his guts to me about you.” His cheeks went a little red.

  “I’m glad. He probably needed someone to talk to.”

  “I think he did.”

  “I never got any of his messages until last night. I was at a silent yoga retreat center in Maine. No electronic devices.”

  Finn’s eyes went wide. “Really? No wonder.”

  The doors opened, and I went out first, still pulling my stupid suitcase. “Yes, and I have a room at a hotel here in Boston, I just haven’t checked in yet. I came straight to the hospital from the bus station.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Bree or I can take you over to your hotel when you’re ready. I imagine you’re anxious to see Dallas.”

  I nodded quickly. My heart was galloping inside my chest. “Yes.”

  “It’s one visitor at a time, so I’ll wait out here. Bree has the kids in the cafeteria for lunch, so no one’s in there now. I can keep your suitcase out here in the waiting area.”

  “Okay.”

  He pointed toward a closed glass door. “Right through there.”

  I turned toward it and took a deep breath. My legs felt shaky as I walked toward his room and slid the door open. They nearly gave out when I saw him lying there in a railed bed, eyes closed, oxygen tube in his nose, bandage on his head, an IV in his left arm and another in his right hand.

  But his face was the same, and it took my breath away. The room was sort of dark—the blinds were closed—and I moved closer, careful not to wake him. My hands kneaded together. I wanted to touch him so badly. Stroke his hair, caress his cheek, hold his hand. His arms were lying on top of the blanket…

  And that’s when I saw it.

  Maren, in beautiful script on the inside of his left forearm.

  Tears dripped down my cheeks. When had he done that?

  I sniffed, and his eyes opened. He blinked.

  “Hi,” I said softly, my heart spilling over with love.

  “Hi.” He paused. “Is this real?”

  I laughed gently. “Yes.”

  “You’re really here?”

  “I’m here.” Smiling through tears, I reached over the rail and took his hand.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, almost like he was praying. When he opened them, they were shining. “You got my email?”

  I nodded. “Yes. It made me so happy.”

  “Good.”

  “Finn said the surgery was a success.”

  “That’s what I hear.” He spoke slightly slower and more quietly than usual, but not enough to worry me. It was probably from the drugs. He had to be drowsy.

  “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

  “No. Not even a headache yet.”

  “That’s wonderful.” I stroked the back of his hand with my thumb. “I like your new tattoo.”

  “Yeah?” A shadow of his old smile.

  I nodded. “When did you get that?”

  “Last week.”

  “I thought it was against your rules to tattoo a name on someone.”

  “Not when the someone is me, and not when the name is yours.”

  My throat closed, and I squeezed his hand.

  “I still won’t do it for anyone else, because I don’t know how they feel. But I know how I feel.” His blue eyes looked dark and intense. “And I know it’s forever.”

  I sniffed again, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. “I love you, too.”

  “No more tears, you.” He closed his eyes. The talking was tiring him out, I could tell.

  “No more tears,” I promised, looking around for somewhere to sit while he slept. “And you need to rest. I’ll just sit here in this chair, okay? I won’t leave.”

  “No. Come here.” He tugged on my hand.

  “What?”

  “Come here. In bed with me.”

  “Dallas, I can’t—”

  “Please?” His eyes opened again. “I missed you so much.”

  My heart couldn’t take it. I glanced at the nurse’s station. “Okay. But only for a minute.”

  Somehow, despite the rails and the oxygen and the IVs and machines, I managed to crawl into the twin bed next to him and cuddle up to his side.

  “Much better,” he said.

  I kissed his scruffy cheek. “Yes.”

  “So you want to move to Portland?”

  Smiling, I patted his chest. “Why don’t we wait until after the drugs wear off to talk about that?”

  “I’m not high, Maren. I’m just done wasting time. I want you to live with me.”

  “You do?” I could hardly breathe. Was this the same guy who told me he was too selfish to be a good boyfriend?

  “Yes.”

  “Won’t … won’t everyone think it’s a little sudden? And maybe crazy?”

  “Fuck everyone. I don’t care what they think.”

  Yeah, it was him.

  I snuggled closer. “I’d love to. Let’s get you better first, and then we’ll figure it out. Deal?”

  “Deal.” With effort, he shifted a little and kissed my head. “I�
�m just going to say it once more, and then we’re leaving the past behind. I’m sorry for what I put you through. Can you forgive me?”

  “Of course I can.”

  He kissed me again. “If you told me I died on the table and this was heaven, I’d believe you.”

  I smiled. “It’s not, babe. This is your life. And it’s only gonna get better.”

  He sighed contentedly. “Good.”

  I lay there with him for a few more minutes, listening to him breathe, reassured by the solid warmth of his body and by his words.

  We would have our second chance.

  Maybe it was sudden. Maybe it had always been destined.

  Maybe it was crazy. Maybe it made perfect sense.

  Maybe love was a game of chance, played at the whims of Cupid, as random as the roll of the dice.

  Or maybe it was a story written in the stars, about a boy and a girl whose hearts wouldn’t rest until they were together again.

  Either way, it was always and only him.

  Three Months Later

  Dallas

  The shop was nearly empty, and everything was in place.

  Even so, I was still a little nervous. Not about what I was about to do, just about making everything perfect. Maren deserved perfection.

  “You ready?” Beatriz came by my station with a grin.

  “I think so.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Fuck, I hope she says yes.”

  “Are you kidding me? This girl fell in love with you twelve years ago, you broke her heart—twice—she takes you back, moves across the country to be with you, nurses you back to health after brain surgery, says she’ll move to bumfuck Oregon with you to live on a ranch she’s never even seen and teach yoga to a bunch of angry teenagers, and you’re wondering if she’s gonna say yes?” She thumped me affectionately on the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I laughed. “It seems too good to be true, that’s all.”

  “Well, you deserve it. You’ve been through a lot.”

  “What if she thinks it’s too soon?”