Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)

by J. L. Berg

  Now, I was the one who wanted to hurl.

  And my appetite was officially gone.

  Lailah, having already finished her bowl, took a few bites from mine before everything was cleared off the table. As conversations ended, jackets and coats were returned, and everyone was bundling up for the cold weather outside.

  We all headed slowly for the entrance. Lailah and I trailed behind, our joined hands swinging between us. As we reached the door, we paused to stand face-to-face.

  “I guess this is where we say good-bye.”

  “Not good-bye,” she corrected. “That’s the great thing about marriage—never having to say good-bye.”

  “Then, what do we say?” I asked, grasping her hands in my own.

  “See you later.” she winked, reminding me of the wisdom I’d once given her not so long ago.

  “Okay.” I smiled. “See you later, Angel.”

  She grinned, reaching up to briefly kiss my lips. My arm caught her waist and held her, deepening our once chaste kiss, until catcalls sounded around us.

  “Come on, Jude. Save some for the wedding!” Marcus called out.

  We pulled apart, and a smug grin plastered across my face as our foreheads touched.

  “I think that’s your father’s way of saying that it’s time to go.” I chuckled.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Cavanaugh.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  I watched her begin to walk away. Her fingers lingered, holding and grasping on mine, until we were finally forced to let go. The door swung open, and I felt the chill from outside hit my face as she and the rest of the crew staying at the hotel walked through it before heading down the street. My hands went to my pockets, seeking the warmth they’d lost when she left. I never noticed my brother still lingering in the corner.

  “How about a celebratory drink? One final hurrah before the last nail gets pounded into that coffin of yours tomorrow.”

  I turned to find him watching me, his dark eyes skeptical and leery.

  “Where did your date go?” I asked, stepping toward the bar, figuring that was enough of an answer for him.

  “She had to . . . work.”

  “Hmm,” was all I said.

  We settled into two stools and ordered—whiskey sour for Roman, Coke for me.

  “Why did you bring her?” I asked, turning toward him, as I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. “You knew it would piss me off. So, why do it? Do you really hate me that much, Roman?”

  His expression hardened. “You know, not every-fucking-thing in this world revolves around you, little brother.” He stood swiftly, swaying slightly, and he stepped away from the bar. “I think I’ll go find someone else to drink with tonight. Drinking solo wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.”

  He threw down a twenty for the drinks we had yet to be served and bailed, leaving me confused and alone at the bar.

  Our drinks arrived moments later, and as the bartender set them down, he looked around and asked, “Your friend all right?”

  “I have no idea,” I answered honestly.

  With Roman, I never did.

  “RISE AND SHINE!” I announced, spreading the heavy curtains apart to let the golden sunlight stream into the previously dark hotel room.

  The large space was immediately flooded with blinding bright light from the world outside, and I turned to see two unhappy people gazing up at me from the beds across the room.

  “You know, when I agreed to this sleepover, I assumed it would include sleep—or at least more sleep than I usually receive during a normal night at home with an infant and a husband who swears he doesn’t steal all the covers. He does, by the way.”

  I giggled softly as I looked over at my poor sleepy friend. I tried covering my mouth, but it in no way hid the smile peeking out. “It’s my wedding day!” I said happily. “We’ve got things to do!”

  “Sweetheart, you know it’s only”—my mother glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand separating the two beds—“five in the morning!” She let out a groan as her head hit the pillow.

  “The hairdresser won’t be here until noon!” Grace nearly cried, pulling her pillow over her head in an effort to turn off the sun.

  “Yes, but I thought we could get breakfast and then maybe, um . . . I don’t know.” My voice drifted off.

  “You couldn’t sleep,” my mother guessed, her lethargic mood transforming into a warm smile.

  “No. I’m too excited.”

  “Well, let’s all get up then,” Grace said begrudgingly.

  I skipped across the room and wrapped her in a tight hug. She returned the gesture, and I felt her mouth curl into a smile against my cheek.

  “You know, there isn’t another female on the planet I would get out of bed for this early—or one who could get me into a green dress.”

  I pulled back and met her gaze. “It will be stunning—I guarantee it—even if it’s not pink.”

  “Okay, but if not, you have to promise to do all of this over again—in pink.”

  I laughed as my hands wove with hers, and she gave them a tight squeeze.

  “Deal,” I answered.

  “So, what’s on the agenda first, boss lady?” she asked, covering a yawn with the back of her hand.

  “Well, why don’t you go jump in the shower, and I’ll order room service?”

  “Okay, but make sure you order at least a gallon of coffee. No, make that two. And let me know if my phone chirps while I’m in the bathroom. Brian said he had a handle on things, but I’m still waiting for that panicked phone call.”

  “Has he never had Zander alone?” my mom asked. She was now sitting up in bed with a warm robe she’d grabbed from her suitcase wrapped around her.

  “A few hours here and there but not overnight—and vice versa. I’ve never been without him this long. I know he’s just down the hall, but it still feels weird to wake up and not jump out of bed to check on him.”

  I smiled, seeing the way my best friend had changed over the last two years. Her heart had doubled in size from becoming a wife first and then adding the role of a mother. She breathed out love from every pore in her body, and I felt nothing but pure joy for her happiness.

  There were times in my life when those I loved had been timid, nearly scared to share with me the joy they felt in their own lives because of the situation my sickness had presented in my own life. What they hadn’t understood was that seeing excitement, hearing about their accomplishments, was what helped make the rough days and nights a bit more bearable.

  I had known my life would never be like the nurses who had befriended me or the patients I’d met who eventually left and moved on. But knowing them and becoming a part of their lives, for even a brief moment, had helped ease the loneliness and given me a window to the outside world, making the walls around me feel just slightly thinner.

  Now that I was free, no longer a slave to the heart that had held me captive for so long, my friends and family would freely share their ups and downs with me, and it was a wondrous feeling.

  It felt normal.

  And being normal was all I’d ever wanted.

  “Well, so far, no texts and no missed calls,” I said, holding up her iPhone in its bedazzled pink case. “So, I think your knightly husband is handling the infant just fine. Go get in the shower, and I will order us food!”

  “And coffee!” she reminded me as she marched into the shower.

  I picked up the phone receiver, pressed the number for room service, and waited until someone picked up.

  “How may I help you, Mrs. Cavanaugh?” the person asked on the other end.

  I stumbled momentarily, having never been called by my soon-to-be surname. The room had been booked under Jude, so I guessed it was just naturally assumed I was the Mrs. to the Mr.

  Mrs. Jude Cavanaugh.

  It was surreal and surprising.

  It was completely amazing.

  I quickly came back to reality and pl
aced our breakfast order. I asked for enough food to serve an army—or at least the entire floor. I felt a little guilty for waking everyone up so early, and I wanted to make it up to them. So, after hearing the total bill that would have once made me faint, I thanked the man and hung up.

  “We should have food in about thirty minutes,” I said, turning to sit on the bed opposite from my mom.

  She looked at me with soulful eyes, tears leaking out of the corners.

  “You’re getting married today,” she gushed. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “You’re crying on me already?” I said, springing from the edge to cross the wide gap separating us.

  I sat down beside her, and she gathered me in her arms. It didn’t seem to matter how old I’d gotten. Nothing beat the feel of my mother’s embrace.

  “All those years we spent in the hospital—when I sat beside your bed and watched you recover from one surgery after another with nothing but the same bleak future for you to look forward to—I hoped and prayed that a day like this would come. No one in this world deserves happiness more than you, my angel. No one.”

  Wetness trickled down my cheeks as her words seeped into my heart, etching themselves into my very soul.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “Oh, baby, I love you, too—so very much.”

  “Did you know that many brides find it difficult to eat on their wedding day?” Grace asked from across the room as she pushed a black olive around on her plate. Her hair was up in large barrel curlers, and she sat cross-legged on the freshly made bed.

  I smirked, trying to remain perfectly still, as the gorgeous brunette behind me continued to tug and pull at my long mane, promising to turn it into bridal perfection.

  “Well, that’s just plain ridiculous,” I replied, carefully bringing a slivered strawberry up to my mouth from the plate sitting on my lap.

  Grace laughed, setting her plate down beside her. We’d basically done nothing but eat and lounge around the hotel room for hours. When she’d said we had nothing to do, she’d meant it. There was absolutely no reason any of us had had to wake up at the crack of dawn this morning. The wedding ceremony wasn’t being held until six in the evening, which meant that today was going to drag on endlessly.

  And it certainly was already.

  My eyes darted over to the alarm clock, and once again, I sighed.

  “Sweetheart, just relax. The day will be nothing but a memory before you know it. Try to enjoy every second,” my mom reminded me.

  I smiled and let my shoulders relax. “I’m trying. I just can’t wait to see him standing at the end of that aisle.”

  A knock sounded at the door, interrupting our conversation, and Grace suddenly jumped up to answer it.

  “Password.” She giggled.

  “It’s me,” a male voice said from the other side.

  “I don’t know any me. You need to be more specific!” she joked.

  “Grace, I’ll tell everyone I see tonight the real name that appears on your birth certificate. Don’t make me do it!” Brian’s voice came through loud and clear.

  “You wouldn’t!” she squeaked.

  “Oh, I would, babe.”

  “That’s just evil!”

  “Your name isn’t Grace?” I asked, suddenly intrigued.

  “Yes, it is! Well, it’s my middle name. Never mind!” she scoffed, opening the door to let her sneaky husband in. “You have my son. You should have just said that from the beginning,” she cooed, holding open her arms to take a babbling Zander.

  “And miss all that? Never.” He grinned. His hand snaked around her waist, gripping the fuzzy fabric of her robe, and he placed a tender kiss on her cheek.

  Zander watched the exchange between his parents with interest as his tiny fingers pressed against their faces.

  “So, what brings you here, handsome?” she asked, stepping away to sit down on the nearest bed with her new adorable little bundle.

  “I was charged with a task, and I’ve come to deliver it.”

  I looked at him and shook my head. “Oh, no. Please tell me he didn’t.”

  “I don’t know what the question is, so I can’t answer that.”

  “Did he get me something?”

  Brian’s wide grin was answer enough.

  “He’s incredible.” I sighed.

  “Did you really expect anything less from Jude?” my mother asked.

  “No. That’s why I gave Dad a gift to hand over to Jude today as well.” I smiled, slightly shrugging my shoulders up before remembering I wasn’t supposed to be moving.

  The stylist was so good that I’d almost forgotten she was there.

  “I was told to deliver this,” Brian said, pulling a small box out of his pocket and stepping forward to place it in my small hand, “before your makeup was done.”

  A small laugh escaped my throat. “That man thinks of everything.”

  “I’ll leave you ladies to your primping.” He turned to his wife and child. “Come on, son. Let’s give Mommy a few more hours of pampering.”

  Zander reached out for his daddy and gave us a wave with his chunky baby hand, and then soon, both were gone.

  “So, are you going to open it?” Grace asked eagerly.

  She and my mother were staring at me. I glanced up to see that even my stylist had stopped to see what might be hidden beneath the ornate silver wrapping.

  With shaky fingers, I slowly lifted the red bow and pulled off the paper. When I opened the box, a gasp escaped my lungs at the same moment tears stung my eyes. I was so glad I didn’t have makeup on. It would have been ruined for sure.

  A stunning silver heart locket was resting in the velvet box. But it wasn’t just any heart locket you’d find anywhere. The heart was made of two interlocking angel wings. The wings opened, and nestled inside was a folded piece of paper with Jude’s angular handwriting.

  My angel, my Lailah, my love.

  “Oh God, I love this man,” I choked out.

  The room was silent, and as I looked up, I found three women with tears to match my own.

  “Please tell me he has a brother,” my stylist said between sobs.

  I laughed. “He does, but my Jude is one of a kind.”

  And today, that one-of-a kind man would become mine forever.

  A QUIET KNOCK echoed through the apartment, and Marcus didn’t waste any time in jumping off the couch to answer the door. Seconds later, Brian appeared, following closely behind Marcus.

  Brian’s eyes met mine, and he slowed slightly. “Still pacing the floors, I see,” he said as he adjusted a fussy Zander on his hip.

  I ignored his comment and kept with my current plan of wearing a hole in the hardwood before the end of the day.

  “You should have planned a morning wedding. Lailah’s a mess as well.”

  My eyes darted up to Brian’s, remembering the errand I’d sent him on. “How is she? Is she okay?”

  He smiled smugly. “Well, she wasn’t dressed when I saw her . . .”

  My eyes widened as I took a wide step forward, intent on grabbing Brian’s neck, but then I stopped myself when I saw his innocent child between us.

  His free hand went up like a white flag. “Kidding. Mostly. Shit, Jude. Relax. I’m just messing with you. She was in a robe, and she was getting her hair done. It’s too bad you don’t drink, man, ’cause you could use a little something for those nerves right now.”

  My hands went through my hair, and I took a step back, falling into the oversized chair positioned by the large windows overlooking the city. “It’s not nerves. I’m just sick of waiting. I’ve been up since the crack of dawn. I just want to see her already.”

  “I get it, Jude,” Marcus chimed it. “I waited over twenty years to finally marry the love of my life. The morning of, I was a nervous wreck.”

  “We should have eloped.” I sighed.

  “And left me to deal with Molly when she found out? You would have done that to me? After everything I’ve
done?”

  A small chuckle escaped my throat. “No, I guess not. But damn, if you could make that clock move a little faster, I’d appreciate it.”

  He smiled warmly, moving toward the chair where I’d chosen to fall into a useless slump. “Come on, Jude,” he said, holding out a cupped hand.

  I firmly gripped it, and he pulled me to a standing position.

  “Let’s go get some lunch and see if we can’t talk away some of these hours. Sitting around here will be like watching a pot of boiling water.”

  Brian sighed. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got to go take back a few snide comments.”

  I had no idea what he meant, and before I had a second to ask, he was gone.

  Marcus’s arm fell loosely around me in a fatherly gesture—one I’d seen but never really had the pleasure of enjoying as a kid. My father’s love had always been shown in his devotion to the family business, not in physical gestures.

  “One must always provide for his family,” he’d once told me.

  And he had. It had been his number one goal, his life’s ambition. Even though I’d missed out on an abundance of hugs and trips to the zoo, my father had shown his love in his own way.

  Still, as Marcus looked at me with admiration and pride, like a father admiring a grown child, I couldn’t help but wonder what an embrace like this would have felt like from my own father.

  “I never thought I’d be eating here on my wedding day,” I commented, looking around at the shabby interior of the hole-in-the-wall restaurant Marcus had chosen at random after we’d walked down the frozen streets of Manhattan.

  “That’s exactly why I picked it. You’ll have plenty of time for that hoity-toity crap your mom has set up for later. Let’s just relax, play a game of pool, and talk.”

  I nodded, feeling a bit calmer already, as I ordered a round of beers for Marcus and Brian. I indulged in my usual Coke, but since it was my special day, I added a cherry just for kicks. Seeing my fiancé die after the two of us had partied a bit too hard one weekend had officially ended my partying days in one devastating night. Nowadays, I just didn’t see the point.