Sean (More Than Friends Book 1)

by Fiona Keane

  “Sean…” He shook his head, refusing to look me in the eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ave—”

  “What the hell, Jesse,” Lizzie screamed, storming toward him. “What is it?” She was ferocious, pounding her hands into his chest as if he was at fault. I placed the tips of my toes on the floor. It felt stable and secure. I let my bottom slide from the mattress as I attempted to stand. I can’t feel my knees. Blurry. My ears were throbbing. So loud. Blurry. Quiet.

  Chapter Fifteen

  My legs kicked awake. I could feel them again. My eyes refused to open, only fluttering against their oppression. The blurry figure in the corner caught my eye. Sean? No.

  “She’s awake,” I heard Ella whisper, and the sound of chair legs scraped the floor. Someone was petting me. Someone squeezed my shins. Sean? Still no. Fingers combed through my hair, slowly and methodically.

  “Avery.” Mrs. Alexander’s sweet voice stirred my eyes open for a fleeting moment. She repeated my name, singing it softly in a melodic whisper. I opened one eye, able to study her red lipstick. I heard Ella whisper something and then closed my eye. Where is Sean?

  I woke again to Ella whispering in my ear, something about roses. My eyes tore open, my heart pounded.

  “Lizzie!” Ella screamed, startled by the gasping of my lungs. “Get the nurse!” I couldn’t breathe. My lungs burned, stinging with acid as I tried to inhale the stale air of the room.

  “You’re okay, Ave,” Ella murmured, rubbing my hands with her small fingers. “You fainted, but you’re okay. You’re safe. Deep breath.”

  I couldn’t calm my breathing. I panicked. My heart and lungs; which would give way first? I thought I had to throw up. I couldn’t move my chest. A new doctor hovered over me. His bright cobalt eyes studied mine as his hands squeezed my shoulders. I couldn’t hear his voice, but his mouth moved slowly and then into a smile.

  “That’s my girl,” I could finally hear the sound escaping his lips. “There you go, Avery. Nice and slow. Deep breath. Good girl. Do you remember me?”

  I shook my head in response, and his kind smile erased any fleeting sense of embarrassment.

  “I’m Doctor Markham.” He released my shoulders. “You and I have been together for several hours now. You keep coming in and out. You’re perfectly fine, just shell-shocked. You’ve been in good company, though. Do you remember anything that happened in the last twelve hours, dear?” Doctor Markham was an approachable, calm man with gray stubble along his tan cheeks. He wore a brown dress shirt and brown pants under his white coat, the pockets of which were stuffed with pens, stethoscope appendages, and his thin eyeglasses. What did I remember? Oh, yes. Breathe, Avery. It was useless. I heard the beeping machine scream behind me as my breathing elevated, and I clutched Doctor Markham’s hands. He smiled at me, calmly reminding me to breathe as he waited out the wave of my panic.

  “So you remember,” he studied me cautiously, “I’ve had Doctor Raji in to check on you and the pregnancy as well. You’re in perfect health, Avery. Perfect. Both heartbeats are strong, just like their mom. You took some tumbles and went through so much today, but all three of you are doing remarkably well.”

  “Both?”

  “Both,” he nodded and continued, smiling at my reaction. “Their father?”

  “Sean,” I sobbed, the burning returning to my lungs as I reached for Doctor Markham’s hands again. His skin was warm and soft but calloused. He looked over his shoulder as the door opened, mumbling something to the nurses who entered.

  “Avery,” he continued, “we’re going to sedate you. It won’t hurt the fetuses, and it will just be enough to help you remain calm as you begin to adjust and remember the events of today. It will take the edge off, make it easier to tolerate new information.” What new information? I nodded, giving permission, and watched the nurses approach my IV. I hadn’t realized I was hooked up to anything. I was in an entirely different room, no longer an emergency room case.

  A warm tingle flooded through my body, flushing out the emptiness I felt. My eyes were heavier, but my lungs and heart were finally in calm agreement. I could hear Doctor Markham and the nurses mumbling somewhere in my room. I looked around, my head held stationary against the pillow by my own anxiety. Maybe if I didn’t see my room, it meant I wasn’t in a hospital. It meant Sean wasn’t laying on a table in the morgue. It meant we were safe and happy. Both? Both heartbeats? I wanted to run to Sean and tell him, but I didn’t know where he was, and nobody was telling me.

  ***

  I woke to Mrs. Alexander’s French manicured fingernails tickling my right arm. Her gaze was on the floor as she absentmindedly stroked back and forth along my forearm. I wiggled in response to her continued caress, and her head lifted, emerald eyes brightly glowing.

  “Hi,” she whispered, tears threatening the corners of her eyes. “Hi, Avery.”

  “Where’s Sean?” She would tell me. Wouldn’t she?

  Her bony hand wrapped around my arm, clenching my skin. Her lips formed into an apologetic smile then faded as tears streamed through her mascara and down her blushed cheeks. I waited for her answer as she cautiously watched me. She lifted her hand to my face, stroking my eyebrows and grazing her knuckles against my left cheek.

  “He’s in the ICU,” she sobbed, her hand dropping back to my arm. A swell of relief flooded over me, the bile rose again, and I broke down. The ICU meant alive. Sean’s alive. Sean’s mom leaned over me, her weightless frame pressing down on my chest as she hugged me, whispering coos of support in my throbbing ears.

  “Can I see him?” I asked, finally able to catch my breath. Despite being so petite, Mrs. Alexander’s frame was suffocating. How was I able to be so much calmer now? The sedative, moron. I thought Sean died this morning. Nobody was telling me anything. Nobody was updating me. I thought he died; my best friend, my love, my Sean. Both heartbeats? Oh my god.

  “Not yet,” Doctor Raji replied. How long had she been in here? I turned toward the direction of her voice, observing her typing into the laptop and reviewing information printed from a small machine next to the computer. She pulled the long strips of paper from the machine. It looked like graph paper with mountains of red and blue lines scrawled along it. She turned off the machine, folded the graph paper, and approached me with a warm smile.

  “I’m going to talk with Doctor Kennedy.” Her warm hand stroked my forehead, moving stray hairs from my face. She was striking, and her beautiful demeanor was comforting.

  “I want to sneak you in,” she continued, her dark eyes squinting above a bright grin. “You’ve got quite a lot to share with Sean.”

  “He’s awake?”

  “Not exactly.” She frowned and sat on the edge of my mattress, taking my hand. “But I firmly believe he can hear what’s going on. I think he held on for you. His mom’s been in there to see him.”

  “He’s alive,” Mrs. Alexander whispered.

  “Why aren’t you in there now?” I questioned. I lifted onto my elbows, a meager attempt at sitting. Doctor Raji stood from the mattress and pressed buttons on the bed, which elevated me to the sitting position. Sean’s mom returned to tickling my arm. It felt nice, simple, maternal, and calming. Her eyes distracted me.

  “Your mom can’t get a flight from Minneapolis yet,” her voice was composed, “so I assured her I would check on you. Grandmothers do that sort of thing.” Her emerald orbs winked at me as they sparkled mischievously. I missed Sean.

  “Take me to him. Please?” I watched Doctor Raji and Sean’s mom exchange a quick glance before Doctor Raji turned off my IVs and stood next to my bed. She continued flipping switches, gracefully removing the monitors and tape from my lower belly and the IV from my arm. Doctor Raji applied a cotton swab and bandage to where the IV previously clung. She vigorously rubbed isopropyl alcohol on my belly, eliminating tape goo from my skin. The smell only triggered my earlier feelings of nausea.

  “We’ll come get you within the hour,” Doctor Raji assured me, a hint of humor in her
sweet voice. “Until then, I want you resting. Understand?” I nodded, all too eager to see Sean and to feel him, proving he was alive.

  ***

  I rolled onto my back, stretching my arms along my sides. I drifted off again, depleted by the day and sedative. Chair legs scratched the floor, and Lizzie was at my side.

  “Hey, Mama,” she beamed. “We missed you.” What time is it?

  “Lizzie, ask my doctor why I’m still here. I only fainted. It’s happened before. I’m not sick, I’m not dying, and I’m fine enough to be discharged.”

  “Hey,” a male voice attempted to calm my rage, “Avery. You’ve been discharged. They just wanted to monitor the babies after you fainted and probably buy time.” I lifted my head to see Noah, wondering why he came back.

  “They were probably trying to protect you and the babies, if something were to go wrong with Sean,” he mumbled apologetically. “They do that all the time.”

  “So,” Lizzie scoffed, “the hospital charges her insurance thousands of dollars to prevent her from running around like a lunatic because they might not have an answer when she wants one?” Noah shrugged, holding his hands defensively, amused by Lizzie’s bluntness. No words could answer that ridiculous suggestion.

  “I’ll go see if Doctor Raji is ready for you to go upstairs.” Noah’s hands pressed against his thighs as he stood from the seat next to Lizzie. He smiled warmly at me before leaving the room. Lizzie ran to my side, clutching my arm.

  “Holy hot,” she whimpered. “Where did you find this guy?”

  “Why is he still here?” I inquired, pulling my legs from the mattress. “Oh, Lizzie. What did you do?”

  “I asked him out. What? Was that wrong? He’s hot. I’m hot. He’s in a uniform…what? Stop looking at me like that.”

  Noah returned to the room with Doctor Raji, who quickly reviewed some notes with me about the importance of immediate prenatal care, how to be healthy for the pregnancy while I cope with Sean’s outcome, and so on, all things I planned on unintentionally forgetting because all I could think of was going upstairs to visit Sean.

  ***

  The only light in Sean’s sterile room was from the late evening glow of the sunset peering through the blinds, and the illuminated machines. I tiptoed in, silently closing the door behind me, desperately trying not to make a sound. I inched toward his bed, pausing to ensure his chest was rising as the machines buzzed around him. A chill broke through my skin, and I wrapped my arms tightly around myself. I struggled to fight the incensed lump in my throat, swallowing hard in an effort to control the emotions waging war inside of me.

  “Oh, Sean…” A sob escaped my throat, despite my best efforts, and I fell onto his mattress, burying my face at his side. His hair was disheveled, dropping over his forehead in an unkempt manner, but he looked perfect. Sean looked peaceful.

  “He’s just sleeping,” Doctor Kennedy whispered behind me. “You can talk to him. It might wake him. It might not.”

  “Is he…” My throat closed, unable to complete my forbidding thought out loud. Doctor Kennedy held my shoulder, rubbing gently like a parent would to a child.

  “He’s going to come through this, Avery. You woke up just in time. Any longer and…well, let’s not even go there. He is going to come through. All thanks to you.”

  Like an indebted, superstitious fool, I found myself thanking the pesky squirrels. “When will he wake up?”

  “When his medication wears off.” Doctor Kennedy routinely inspected Sean’s monitors as he spoke to me. “He’ll be groggy, perhaps irritable and uncomfortable. Breathing will be a challenge, as will speaking. We know that’ll be difficult for Sean.” For the first time since falling asleep with Sean the night before, I smiled. Doctor Kennedy’s jest calmed me. Not talking would be a challenge for Sean. My moment of humor quickly faded into further crying, and I returned my head to Sean’s body. I reached for his hand, still feeling a chill, and squeezed, waiting for a response from Sean.

  Chapter Sixteen

  AUTUMN

  My pants no longer fit. Even the pairs of leggings with large, elastic waistbands refused to support the circumference of my blossoming belly. At only a few months along, I was quickly outgrowing the never-worn, redundant surplus of clothes billowing from my closet. It probably didn’t help that we walked to the unhealthiest and most delicious ice cream shop twice per week. I was fine resigning myself to dresses because October in Madison was warm enough as long as the sun was shining.

  “Good morning, beautiful.” Sean kissed my shoulder as he approached from the bathroom. My favorite dark purple towel was wrapped around his hips, beads of water still dripping from his hair and along his muscular chest. I turned from the window and smiled, letting my eyes wander the ridges and scars of his healthy body. It was a challenge to comprehend that moment in my life. Sean was healthy, our babies were healthy, my job was still fulfilling, and our condo on the square was home. Sean was alive, with me, with us.

  “You’re going to make us late,” I scolded. His hands flew up in playful defense, and he walked toward his closet. He was still incredibly gorgeous, scarred only by the surgical reminders of how close we all came to losing him. But his courage, his determination, made him indescribably more beautiful.

  “What are you going to wear?” I asked, sitting on the edge of our bed, eyeing the towel Sean tossed into the laundry pile. I kept finding my hands absentmindedly secured to my belly, protecting my bump from the world. Sean appeared from his closet wearing a white dress shirt, cuffs folded over his forearms, and black pants. It looked like a uniform until he pulled out his gray tweed vest and buttoned it over his slim frame.

  “This okay?”

  “You look like Jesse.”

  He stepped toward me, placing his hands on my belly, and softly kissed my forehead. “Great minds,” he teased, pointing to his head.

  I climbed from our bed with his help and slipped on my pink flats before leaving for brunch. I clung to his arm for balance and because I could. He was alive, Sean was healthy, and I couldn’t let go.

  Thanks to the warm autumn weather, the rooftop at Retrovaille was still open and happy to accommodate our table of six. The elevation and canopies of expiring clematis and wisteria kept the rooftop comfortably cool. It was perfect weather for cardigans. Yay. I had plenty of those. Sean and I were first to arrive, despite my slight waddle and Sean’s protective need to keep me at a slow pace as we walked two blocks to State Street.

  Sean smiled to the server who showed us the way to the long table arranged near the point of the triangular rooftop space, guiding me at his side.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked as Sean helped push my chair back under the table. I reached for a menu from the centerpiece of tall ivory candles and vases of mums.

  “I’m sure they’re on their way.” He took my hand as he sat next to me at the head of the table. “What are you three in the mood for?”

  “Pancakes,” I growled with delight as I thought of how scrumptious Retrovaille’s buttermilk pancakes with orange honey butter were, “and maybe some bacon. And a kiss?”

  “Pancakes, definitely. Bacon, maybe,” Sean leaned over and lifted my chin in the air, tenderly pressing his lips against mine, “and a kiss, absolutely.”

  “Hi!” Ella’s squeal broke our moment. She skipped across the rooftop, Jesse trailing behind. Her hair, now wavy and long, was pulled into a tight ponytail. I think she stole my earrings. Jesse caught up with her and kissed me on the cheek.

  “Glad to see you.” Sean stood to reciprocate Jesse’s warm hug. They lingered for a fleeting moment, exchanging the warm glow of camaraderie. Things changed for them too. I’d never forget that.

  Jesse sat next to Sean, opposite of me, with Ella at his side. The server attended to our table, taking orders for everyone’s mimosa or champagne and my sparkling water with grenadine. I looked around, hoping to catch Lizzie’s entrance, but she hadn’t arrived. It seemed odd that on a Saturday morning the
rooftop would be so vacant, especially with the farmer’s market still occupying the Capitol Square.

  “So,” Sean beamed with excitement, “we go to the doctor on Thursday for our screening.”

  “Do you have an inkling?” Ella looked at me impatiently, ready to decorate the extra room in our condo.

  “No.” I shook my head. I didn’t mind one of each, two of one, as long as they were healthy. And maybe if they looked like me instead of Sean because the world doesn’t need another heartbreaker.

  I listened to the conversation and smiled at Sean’s excitement about the ultrasound, the babies, and our plans. The once-ruthless flirt, the magnet for all female undergraduates, was going to be a father in a few months, and it was apparent by the spreading grin on his face that he couldn’t be happier or more fulfilled.

  “Hi, everyone,” Lizzie called as she approached the table. “Sorry we’re late. This one was busy saving lives already this morning.” She rested her hand on Noah’s chest.

  “That’s not fair. I only got one coat of polish on my toes before I had to leave,” Ella teased. “Hi, you two.” Noah waved, flashing the sleeve of tattoos that kept me focused and still months prior.

  “I ordered a mimosa and bloody mary for you two,” Jesse told them. He seemed a little nervous, edgier than usual. Sean glanced around, and I followed his eyes to the entrance. He squeezed my hand as he stood, pulling my belly and me with him.

  “What? Are you okay?” I shuddered. He smiled at me, the glow resonating in my soul, and nodded behind me to the entrance.

  I turned around, confused as to why my mother and sister were standing on the rooftop with Sean’s parents. “What’s going on?” I questioned, glaring at him with suspicion.

  Lizzie and Noah were also standing. So were Ella and Jesse. Sean guided me away from the table and into the covered pergola that looked to the east of State Street. The wisteria and clematis hung and danced in the breeze as it tickled its way across the roof.