by Demi Alex
“This is more than enough. Thank you.” She folded the cash into her wallet, checked for her passport, and stepped from the car feeling truly lucky to have such friends. When Paul came around and adjusted the wrap on her shoulders, she walked into the comfort of their two-decade-long friendship and wrapped her arms around him. “I’ll admit that my idea of financial success has stood in the way of me doing what was right, but having generous and rich friends does make it easier to deal with.” She pinched his muscled abs and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I promise to pay every penny back as soon as possible.”
“Stop thanking me for the money. Money doesn’t mean anything to me, and you know it. We’re on this ride together, Kittykat. You’d hold my hand if I needed you.” He swatted her backside, and turned her toward the doors. “Go find your man.”
Money really didn’t mean anything. Some people had more than others, but it didn’t make the person. She glanced over her shoulder and waved good-bye. “Check your email for the feature.”
“Forget it,” he called. “I’m not publishing it.”
“It’s done. You can use the pictures I’ll attach if you like.”
Sitting at the gate, she repeatedly checked both phones for text messages. Each time she called Marko, she reached his voicemail. As they announced the flight to board she typed out a text.
I love you, bello. Everything will be okay.
During the flight, she read through the feature and attached her pictures. The caption on one of Marko standing at by the window read: Paris may be the perfect place for romance, but the perfect place for love is anywhere with your person. This is my person, the man who holds my heart and future, my Marko.
Owning what lived in her heart, she hit send and lowered the cover of the laptop.
* * *
“I brought two this time,” Antoine said, handing Marko the new cell phone he’d requested. “Try not to slam these into the wall.”
“I don’t use them in here.” Marko raised his head from his hands and acknowledged his friend. He glanced at the unrecognizable woman lying in the bed, checking the monitors to make sure the lines moved and the images pulsed. “The signals interfere with the machinery. I have them powered off and only turn them on when I leave the unit.”
“Turn this one on when you exit the building and are across the street,” Antoine said, releasing a long breath. He stood before the glass, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “She’s so small. So fragile. I wish there was some way I could help.”
“You gave her your blood. That helped.” Marko walked up to the other man and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m forever in your debt.”
“There has to be more we can do.” Antoine wiped a large hand down his worried face. “Can I give more blood?”
“No. Thankfully, she doesn’t require more transfusions. The doctors said her levels are stable. She’s responded to the therapy and the edema has gone down. They’re going to wake her from the coma today.” Marko had to believe she would be okay. She was too good for this, too young, too beautiful. Their world would crumble if she didn’t wake up. Martine was a fighter. She would open her eyes and bring sunshine to the world.
“What time?” Antoine asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“The doctors are checking on her in the morning. They’ll let us know when around eight.” Time was moving too slowly. Too many things they couldn’t determine. For the first time in his life, Marko was at the mercy of someone else’s expertise. It grated on his nerves. “Maynard doesn’t know which way to turn. He must focus on Martine, but my aunt Laurel is having a very difficult time dealing with the uncertainty. Cecile has been good to her, holding her hand and reassuring her that Martine will make it.”
“But you are the one who has not left the hospital,” Antoine insisted. “You look like shit, my friend. Go home, take a shower, and get some sleep. You have seven hours before the doctors come to speak with you.”
“I can’t leave her alone,” he said, pushing his fingers through his hair. He sat on the metal chair and returned his head into his hands. “If she wakes up on her own, she’ll be terrified. She can’t be alone.”
“I’ll stay with her. I won’t leave that sweet angel alone.”
“Thank you, but I can’t go until I know she’s awake. I can’t.” Marko was tired. Fighting to remain calm, he managed a few minutes of sleep during each night, but he hadn’t left the hospital once. Antoine had insisted on visiting every day, multiple times a day to be exact. He’d been the first one to offer blood. The man was as good as his word. He wouldn’t leave Martine alone.
Marko stood and walked back to the window. “On second thought, I’ll take you up on your offer to stay, but only for a few minutes. I want to try and reach Kathryn. I need to hear her voice.”
“You could use one of her big smiles and soft hugs right about now—she’d . . . Why did you send her away?” Antoine asked, his brows knitting in confusion.
She’d accepted him, accepted them. She was about to meet his family, and he’d spent time after his meeting buying her a ring. “I’ve waited a long time to make her mine. I was sure that things had finally come together for us.” But just like the first time he had been about to offer her a ring, a fucking asshole had wreaked havoc on their lives.
“Her father was killed by a drunk driver. It tore her apart to see him hooked up to those machines.” Marko pointed through the glass. Kat had to make the decision to take her dad off life support. All he could do was hold her shattered heart and accept her wish for time to heal. “I won’t make her relive that time in her life.”
“I understand,” Antoine agreed. “Go. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to Martine.” He handed him a paper bag. “Brought you a shirt from your place. Take a minute and wash up in the lavatory. You’re scaring the family looking like that.”
Marko nodded in agreement. He looked really bad. A fresh shirt was greatly welcomed. “Thank you.”
“There is an all-night café across the street. Order something to eat and drink, and call your woman from there. The connection will be normal.”
“Normal,” Marko repeated, shaking his head and turning to go. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
He walked past the unit’s doors and dialed Kat.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Relief flooded over Kat when she saw Antoine’s large frame behind the counter at the boulangerie. He offered a cookie to a toddler and wrapped a baguette for the young woman accompanying the little boy. Kat tossed too much cash at the driver, thanked him, and bounded out of the taxi and into the bakery.
“I’m so happy you’re still here,” she called, pushing on the glass door and storming into the fragrant shop. Practically hurdling over the young boy, Kat walked around the counter and didn’t give a shit about observing local tradition. She wrapped her arms around the big man and buried her face in his chest.
“Kathryn, everything will be okay,” Antoine assured, cupping the back of her head and holding her close. “Welcome home, ma chère.”
“Marko isn’t answering his phone. All calls go directly to voicemail. I tried texting when we landed, but he hasn’t even read it yet.”
“Shhh, chère. He is all right. Look at me.” He cupped her face and lifted her chin. “You are the best medicine for him—”
“Is he hurt?” Sobs clogged her throat and tears marked her cheeks.
“Non.” Antoine shook his head, a cautious look in his eyes. “Not physically. However, his cousin Martine has been hurt. He has been with her since Saturday.”
“Take me to them.” Her voice was demanding. She regretted her abrupt tone, lowered her gaze, and apologized for being rude. “I’m sorry, Antoine. Please. I need to be with him. You must take me to him immediately. If Martine is hurt, Marko is hurting. He must be devastated. He loves her.”
“I know,” Antoine agreed, removing his apron and hanging it on a peg. He spoke to the counter girl, gave her permission to cl
ose early, then tossed her a set of keys and asked for her to lock up behind them. “Allons-y, Kathryn,” he said, much to her relief. “Martine is at the American Hospital of Paris. Her condition is critical, but she has the country’s best doctors working on her. Marko has not left the hospital, other than for ten minutes last night when he called you.” Antoine spoke in a low and deliberately calming voice.
There was more to it and she knew it. Antoine was sharing information with extreme caution, and Kat was hesitant to press him further, but she needed the facts. “What is wrong with Martine?”
He drew air between his teeth, and his fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard, the tips went white. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his eyes gleamed with moisture. Tension sucked the oxygen from the air. She wanted to cover her ears and drown out all the bad in the world. Blinking back more tears, she closed her hands into determined fists, digging her fingernails into her palms.
“Please, Antoine. I must know what is happening. Please.”
Nodding, he raised his left hand to his eye and made to rub the corner. “Martine was in a very bad accident. As I said, her condition is critical. She is a strong girl, and she is fighting hard. The injuries are severe.”
A sense of déjà vu washed over Kat. Her skin prickled with remembrance. Her eyes stung and her vision blurred, but she swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “What kind of injuries?”
“She has numerous broken bones and fractures. Her liver was damaged, and she lost a lot of blood. A long surgery stopped the internal bleeding. She’s had five blood transfusions so far. Her face is so bruised and swollen you can’t recognize her. Martine, une jolie petite ange, est tellement mal.”
“Her brain?” Kat asked in a tiny whisper.
“Cerebral edema,” he confirmed solemnly. “The doctors placed her in an induced coma—”
“No,” she cried, covering her face and shaking her head. Her face burned and her chest ached. Not again. This couldn’t happen to Martine. “No, no, no.”
Antoine pulled the car to the side of the road. Engaging the hand brake, he rubbed a soothing hand over her shaking shoulders and down her spine as she sobbed. “This is not your papa, ma chère. Martine is improving. The little angel has responded well to the therapy. The doctors are gathering at this very moment and considering waking her.”
“When?” She looked up at him, biting her lip and praying.
“It could be at any time. The whole family is there. No one has called yet.”
She pressed a palm to her chest and took a deep breath. “Just give me two minutes to compose myself. I need to be there for Marko. He’s been exposed to such trauma before, and seeing his cousin like this must be torture for him. He was there when my daddy passed. He saw it all.”
“That is why he wanted to protect you from this tragedy,” Antoine explained.
“I don’t want his protection. I want to support him. To let him know I’m there for him, no matter what.” She lifted her chin and dried her tears. Rummaging in her bag, she retrieved her computer and stowed it under the seat, pulling the floor mat over it. She also pulled out eye drops and a pack of gum. “Two minutes,” she repeated, leaning her head back and holding the drops over her eyes.
* * *
The crisp scent of antiseptic turned her stomach, but Kat squared her shoulders walked down the white corridor toward a family gathered at the end. She saw him before he spotted her, and her heart ached for the man who turned from shaking the doctor’s hand to wrapping his arms around the weeping family huddled beside him. He was nodding, speaking to them, and holding the family together. The support he offered was visible.
Marko looked up and met her gaze. Alarm flashed in his eyes. Shaking his head, he said something to the two older men and walked to meet her before she could make it to the end of the corridor.
Dark circles rimmed eyes that appeared sunken. Stress stretched over his forehead and marked his jaw. His hair was messed and his overall disheveled appearance attested to his lack of sleep. Reaching them, he pulled Kat into his arms and held her tight. Placing a kiss on the side of her head, he turned to Antoine. “Why did you bring her here?”
“Because I asked him to,” Kat answered, spreading her fingers over the side of his face and turning him to look at her. “I’m here now.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. Bringing her mouth to his ear, she whispered, for only him to hear, “Lean on me, my love. Trust me, Marko.”
He inhaled and his chest rose against her, filling her with encouragement and reassurance. Cupping her face, he sealed his mouth to hers, and she shared her strength and love with ardor and dedication. Color tinged his pale features, and she smiled up at him as he stared at her as if she were a ghost. “Je t’aime, bella.”
“I love you, too, bello.”
“How is Martine?” Antoine asked, his stance anxious.
“They weaned her off the ventilator and medicines this morning. She did very well. They removed the tube, and she’s been breathing on her own since noon. They stopped the coma-inducing medication, too. She has not woken up yet, but the doctor I just spoke with is confident she will be awake soon. His team has been observing Martine all day. Her mother and father are with her now.” He looked back over his shoulder, then took Kat’s hand. “Come. We need to be with the family.”
Determined to be his rock, she laced her fingers in his and pressed her shoulder along his arm. Marko leaned on her. She released a long breath.
An elegantly dressed woman wiped a handkerchief across her cheeks and watched them approach. She stretched her arms out to Kat, and when she walked into them, the woman kissed her lovingly on both cheeks.
“I am Angelique and this is Marcel.” She reached for the hand of a very handsome gentleman, a vision of what she imagined Marko would look like in the future, with more salt than pepper hair. She placed Kat’s hand in Marcel’s big palm. Kissing her gently on the cheek, he closed his fingers around her hand and pulled it to his heart. “This is not how we wanted to meet you, my dear girl, but family comes together in good and bad. I welcome you with all my love.”
“Thank you, madame—
“Non. Je suis maman.” She held up a dainty hand and tossed the objection to the air, making it a fact.
Kat glanced at Marko, and he was actually smiling, with more color in his handsome face than before. Her heart swelled with love, and in spite of the circumstances, she met his smile.
“Oui. Maman,” Kat agreed.
“Et je suis papa,” Marcel said, gathering her in an embrace and kissing the top of her head. “Merci, mon fils.” He thanked his son. “I have always wanted a daughter.”
“Maman is right. This is not the setting I would have chosen to introduce Kathryn, but I am very glad she came.” Marko placed his hands on her shoulders, and she reached up and took one in her hand. No matter how loved and welcomed she felt, this moment wasn’t about her and she couldn’t relax yet. It was time for her to help her man with this heavy load. She was there to offer him the support he needed.
“From what I’ve heard, Martine is a fighter. She will surprise everyone with how fast she gets well.” Kat glanced at Antoine, who was standing alone and looking through the window. His shoulders were tense and his jaw hard. He didn’t take his eyes off the sleeping woman.
“With Kathryn here, Martine will wake twice as fast. That meddling little cousin of mine wouldn’t want to miss any of the action,” Marko added, gaining a soft laugh from his mother and father.
“C’est vrai,” his mom said.
“Very true,” his dad repeated.
The family filtered in and out of Martine’s room, taking turns speaking to her. When Marko had gone in to Martine, Kat asked Antoine if he wanted to go with her to bring back some coffee and juice. He shook his head and lowered to whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry, Kathryn. I want to be here when she wakes up.”
“I understand,” she replied, giving him a knowing smile, then turned to the family. “I’m g
oing downstairs to get some drinks. Any special requests?”
“We will go together, my child,” Marcel insisted, collecting everyone’s order and offering her his arm. As they walked down the long corridor, he covered her hand and curled it over his forearm. “We will have a proper celebration for you and Marko when Martine is well. The whole family together.”
* * *
Marko rested his elbows on his knees, watching for his father to return with Kat. When he saw the red wrap at the end of the hall, he exhaled in relief. He needed to know she was okay and near. He didn’t know how, but his strong and beautiful Kat had come to this place, a place he knew she hated with a passion, for him. He was so tired, so worried, and he couldn’t do anything to make things better.
Wake up, Martine. I have someone for you to meet, you noisy little brat. Wake up, he thought, massaging his fingers over his forehead.
The family was sitting on the Spartan metal chairs, sipping their drinks and sharing colorful stories of Martine’s spunk, and Antoine sat guard at her bedside. Then, suddenly, Martine opened her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The elevator stopped and Kat followed Marko to the bedroom. The toll of the last few days was evident in his stride, but he held his shoulders and chin high in a gallant display of strength. She ached to tell him that he could lean on her, let her help, but words appeared so insignificant in the big scheme of things.
The T-shirt she’d worn while lazing around on Saturday morning was still lying on the chair, and everything else also seemed exactly the same.
“I gave the housekeeper the week off,” Marko said, taking her coat and tossing it over the T-shirt. Considering how meticulous he was in all aspects of his life, his coat landing atop hers surprised her. She walked up to Marko, who was sitting on the ottoman removing his shoes. “I wanted to keep everything like it was last weekend—when you were here.”
