You First

by Stephanie Fournet

  “I love you.” He spoke the words a second time because saying them tied him to her in ways he never knew he wanted to be tied. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to lose himself to another person, but he was irrevocably hers.

  “Gray,” she cried, her arms tightening around him, her fingers splaying along his back.

  They moved together like a piece of music, an allegro of flesh and blood, the harmony of kisses and sighs.

  The composition of their lovemaking built until the crescendo beckoned, and Gray fought to hold it back as he watched her. Meredith, morning, noon, and night, was so beautiful that looking at her often left him tongue-tied, but the erotic flush that now painted her cheeks redefined beauty. Nothing could compare.

  And then, with a gasp, her eyelashes fluttered, and a tiny frown etched her forehead. Her look of sweet torture sacked his control. He grasped her hip and claimed her hand. Meredith’s eyes flew open, and, for a moment, they both froze, staring deep into each other.

  “With you, I’m safe,” she whispered, and Gray lost the reins.

  Several minutes later — after he’d gone half wild, taking every one of her cries with him — Gray caught his breath above a panting Meredith, and he pressed lazy kisses along her cheeks and lips. He rolled them over so that she lay astride him. He pulled the blankets up around her, and he heaved a great sigh, loving the promising weight of her body on his.

  “I’ve never… That was…” Her voice was soft and awed. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

  Gray gazed down at Meredith resting her cheek on his chest. He smoothed his hands up and down her back, savoring the fact that he could.

  “Like what, sweetness?”

  She picked up her head, splaying her palm on his chest and setting her chin on the back of her hand. The color rose high on her cheeks and her eyes danced. “Like… Oh my God, three?”

  His mouth twitched. She was so damn cute.

  “Three?” He crooked a brow and gave her a devil’s smile, but pride almost made him levitate. “I’ll try to do better next time.”

  Meredith rolled her eyes at him, but he watched her color deepen at his mention of next time. Gray prayed to God there would be a next time.

  And countless times after that.

  His surgery was in ten days. The thought sent a dart of nerves through his belly. He wanted to come out of it in the clear so badly thinking about it actually hurt. Instead, he tightened his arms around Meredith.

  Above him she glanced at the clock and made a face. “Is it terrible that we had sex while your mother took my son to the toy store?”

  He tried not to grin. He really did. “I can’t think of anything better to do while my mother takes your son to the toy store.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “They should go to the toy store all the time.”

  Pretending to be unamused, Meredith gave him a hard look. “We should get dressed.”

  Gray heaved a great sigh. “I suppose we must.”

  “And then we need to get back to the manuscript.”

  Gray ran the tip of his pinky down the length of her spine and watched as her eyelids drooped just a little. “If you insist,” he whispered.

  Meredith closed her eyes and shook her head briskly, as if scolding herself. She opened them again and then pushed herself up before reaching for the discarded towel. “I do insist,” she said, wrapping the towel around her gorgeous breasts.

  She still sat astride him, and Gray could easily imagine throwing her back down onto the mattress and exploring her all over again. The last hour had changed everything, deepened everything. He couldn’t fathom how he’d be able to be in a room with her now without touching her. They could work on the manuscript, but he might insist she do it in his lap.

  She climbed off him and stood beside his bed, straightening the towel. Gray rolled over on his side to watch her, enjoying the sight of her bare legs and shoulders and wishing they could just spend the rest of the day in bed.

  One day, he hoped.

  “Can I borrow your robe? I don’t want to put those clothes back on,” she said, gesturing toward the bathroom.

  “Sure.” Gray nodded. “It’s hanging in the closet.”

  She stepped through the bathroom door and turned into his closet. Gray realized his mistake at once. He should have retrieved it for her so he could be the one to wrap her up in it. He reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his boxers off the floor, but they were still damp from her bath water.

  Gray got to his feet, and the room wobbled a little. Perhaps he’d stood too quickly. He rubbed his head, his headache just now thrumming back to life, but he smiled. Meredith had made the pain disappear. She was his cure, he thought, chuckling.

  He snagged a pair of boxers from his dresser, put them on, and made it to his closet just in time to see Meredith cinching his robe tie around her. The navy Turkish cotton that usually fell to his knees swallowed her. It wrapped her up with just a hint of cleavage above and her bare ankles and feet below. He never thought a men’s robe could look so sexy.

  Gray grabbed her by the turned-down collar and tugged her to him. “I think you should just wear this from now on.”

  Her giggles filled his closet and took up lots of space in his heart.

  He bent down and claimed her lips with his, a gentle kiss, but one ripe with the intimacy they’d just shared. Gray released her lips and pressed his forehead to hers, holding her close.

  “Have I told you how happy I am that you’re here?” he whispered.

  Her mouth curled in a smile. “Yes,” she whispered back, threading her fingers through his hair, a sensation that turned his bones to rubber. “Have I told you that you make me so happy? And I haven’t been truly happy in…” Her voice caught, and he watched her swallow. “…in a really long time.”

  Gray held her to him and fought to keep his mouth closed. He wanted to promise that he’d always make her happy, but he didn’t dare tempt fate. He could make those kinds of promises in a few weeks — provided he was well enough to keep them.

  Meredith must have sensed his uneasy thoughts because she pulled back and studied him.

  “You okay?”

  Letting her in on his fears now would only scare her. He never wanted to scare her. It had made him feel whole again when she’d looked into his eyes and told him that with him, she was safe. He wanted to give her that forever.

  So Gray smiled, and it was a genuine smile. “Yeah, I’m great.” He stepped back. “Now, go get dressed, and we’ll work.”

  “Bossy.” She teased him with a shake of her head. But after she ran a hand over his bare chest, she slipped out the door, and Gray was left contemplating the inviting shape of her backside in his plush robe.

  He leaned against the doorframe as she disappeared, and then he gripped it for support when the room teetered.

  “Shit,” he hissed, a sickening sense of dread swirling in his gut. Gray yanked a pair of jeans off a hanger, leaned against the wall for stability, and put them on. It felt like gravity doubled on his right side. He grabbed a sweatshirt and tugged it on, listing a little to the side as he did. As he tried to compensate, he stumbled to the left, landing roughly against his closet shelves.

  “Fuck.” His balance was gone. This was new. And this was serious.

  Gray breathed in through his nose, attempting to quell the rising panic. Was this a stroke? He scrambled to the bathroom, gripping the counter to steady himself, and he stared at his reflection. His eyes and the line of his mouth were even. He forced himself to pull up his cheeks in a mirthless smile, and both sides of his face obeyed, though the action didn’t make him feel any happier.

  And then, as he stared at himself in the mirror, Gray’s right cheek and tongue began to tingle.

  He careened through the bathroom and hit the pantry door with a thud before opening it and scrambling through. He spilled into the kitchen and caught the corner of the island to keep from falling.

  “Meredith…” The “th”
at the end of her name felt gauzy on his tongue, but his shout carried through the house. “…call 911.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  MEREDITH RACED DOWNSTAIRS in her bra and jeans, phone pressed to her ear, and found Gray slumped against the kitchen wall, upright, but only just. Vulcan and Juno paced nervously around him. They moved back at her approach.

  “Get dressed,” he ordered, a no-nonsense glare in his eyes, but the words sounded frayed around the edges.

  “What’s happening?” She rushed to him, ignoring his demand.

  “Balance… tingling… Maybe stroke.” He tried to hide the fear in his voice, and Meredith took his hand in hers, commanding herself not to fall to pieces. At Gray’s feet, Juno whimpered.

  She spoke into the phone. “My boyfriend may be having a stroke. He has a brain tumor. It’s urgent that we get to Lafayette General.”

  “Ma’am, is he alert?” the dispatcher asked.

  “Y-yes, but he’s lost his balance, and he’s having some tingling. His neurologist warned us to call 911 immediately—”

  “The paramedics are on their way, ma’am. Is he breathing normally?”

  “Yes, I think so,” she answered, watching Gray’s chest rise and fall. She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

  “When did his symptoms start?”

  “Just now,” she said in a rush. “He was fine five minutes ago.” A lump formed in her throat. Was this her fault? Had this happened because they’d—

  “Is he experiencing any weakness in his limbs?”

  Meredith remembered an article on stroke symptoms she’d read on Google just days before. “Gray, can you raise your arms out to the side?”

  She watched with some relief when he brought both arms up, but his right drifted down a little. She tried to keep her face even.

  “Yes, a little, I think.”

  “Talk to me…” he said, letting his arms come back down.

  Vulcan and Juno each stepped closer, sniffing his feet and legs.

  She scooted closer and ran her hand down his face, searching for any sign of paralysis. “Honey, I’m just checking for symptoms.”

  He looked up at her and brought his left hand up to her face, matching her touch. “I’m scaring you… I’m sorry…” The S’s carried too much sibilance.

  The lump in her throat swelled, and she shook her head. “No. I’m fine,” she lied.

  “Is he disoriented or confused?” the dispatcher asked.

  “No, no,” she said, relieved. Gray knew exactly what was going on, for better or worse.

  “And his speech. Is it clear or slurred?”

  “There’s some slurring,” she admitted, and she watched Gray frown.

  “I hate you seeing this,” he whispered.

  “Hush,” she scolded, stroking his face. “I love you.”

  Gray blinked slowly, as though accepting the words.

  “Ma’am, is he lying down?”

  “Not completely. Should he be?” she asked.

  “If he’s breathing normally, it would be better for him to lie flat.”

  Meredith tucked her hand behind his neck. “She wants you to lie down, Gray.” He let her help him stretch out on the floor, and she leaned down over him, wanting to stay as close to him as possible. Vulcan approached and licked Gray on the cheek. Meredith pushed him away gently.

  “It’s alright,” Gray muttered, a hint of a smile on his lips.

  “The ambulance should be there any minute, ma’am.”

  Gray’s eyes met hers, and she knew he’d heard the woman’s voice through her phone.

  “Get dressed, Meredith… now.”

  At that moment, she heard the sirens. Gray did, too. He reached for the hem of his sweatshirt and started tugging it upward.

  “What are you doing? Be still,” she said.

  “Put this on,” he said before she grabbed for the pullover and held it in place.

  “Wait. Stop. I’ll get dressed.”

  “Now.”

  Meredith dropped her phone, sprinted to his closet, and dashed back with a black sweater. She pulled it over her head, and it swam around her. The sounds of the ambulance siren grew louder.

  “Hang on, Gray,” she said, racing to the kitchen door.

  “Wait,” he called. “Dogs… out back.”

  “Right.” He might be bossing her around, but at least he was aware of his surroundings. “Come on, Vulcan, Juno.”

  The dogs chased her to the back door. Meredith let them out and rushed back to the kitchen. This time she flung open the kitchen door and smacked the garage door opener. The retracting wall revealed an Acadian Ambulance rig pulling up the driveway. Meredith darted out just long enough to flag the crew down before she ran back inside, leaving the door open behind her.

  “They’re here, Gray.” She panted, kneeling beside him. His eyes were closed, but he opened them and met hers.

  “Mer-ed-ith,” he croaked slowly, the word coming out with obvious effort.

  Meredith’s already racing heart sped up double-time. “Yes? What is it?” She clutched his hand and rubbed it between both of hers.

  “Call Mom… have her call… Dr…”

  Oh Jesus. Dahlia and Oscar. She hadn’t spared them a thought since she’d heard him calling for help.

  “Dr. Cates. Yes. I’ll call her.”

  The paramedics came through the door then, a man and a woman, wheeling a stretcher between them. Meredith watched surprise register on both of their faces when they took in Gray on the floor.

  The woman pointed to him, but looked at her. “Possible stroke victim?” she asked, looking doubtful. They’d likely expected an older man.

  “Yes. He has a meningioma,” Meredith said, and then she launched into everything she’d told the dispatcher as both of them got to work on Gray.

  “Alright, Mr. Blakewood, my name’s Benny,” the man said, checking Gray’s vitals. “That’s my partner, Sam, and I’m gonna check a few things before we move you.”

  His partner turned to Meredith. “Is he on any prescriptions?”

  “Yes,” she nodded, thinking of the collection of bottles on his bedside table. She squeezed Gray’s hand. “Gray, I’ll be right back.”

  “‘Kay,” he muttered, squeezing back and letting her go.

  Benny’s eyes jumped between her and Gray. “You’re Gray Blakewood? The writer?”

  Gray’s face was expressionless. “Yes.”

  “I’m a huge fan, Mr. Blakewood. Now, can you show me your teeth?”

  Meredith left him then and returned a moment later with his prescription bottles. She’d dropped two on the floor in her haste and had to chase one under the bed, cursing herself. After she gave them to Sam, she ducked back into the pantry. Meredith took three full breaths, blowing each out slowly, and called Dahlia Blakewood.

  “Meredith?” Gray’s mother picked up by way of greeting.

  Meredith could hear the strain in her voice. She already knew something was wrong. Meredith’s heart went out to her. “Dahlia, it’s Gray,” she said, forcing herself to sound calm. “The paramedics are here. He may be having a stroke—”

  “Oh, God—”

  “He’s conscious, and he’s thinking clearly. His speech is a little off, and he’s having some weakness and tingling on his right side—”

  “Oh my dear God.”

  “Dahlia, please call Dr. Cates. The sooner he knows what’s going on, the sooner Gray will get the treatment he needs,” she said, sounding much more sure of herself than she felt. “Meet us at General, and I’ll take Oscar.”

  “Right. Of course.” Dahlia already sounded more composed, and Meredith breathed a sigh of relief. She had Oscar after all.

  “I need to get back to him.”

  “Yes. Go.”

  They hung up without another word, and Meredith returned to the kitchen to see the two paramedics strapping Gray onto the stretcher.

  “She… comes,” Gray ordered, looking at Meredith.

&nbs
p; “Whatever you say, Mr. Blakewood,” Benny said, extending the stretcher to its full height.

  “Meredith… put shoes on,” Gray muttered, and Meredith and the two paramedics stared down at her feet.

  “He’s the most alert stroke victim I’ve ever seen,” Sam remarked.

  “It’ll take us a minute to get him secured in the rig,” Benny said, giving her a kind smile. “You have time.”

  “Right.” She nodded at the paramedic. Then she looked down at Gray. “Bossy.”

  She caught his faint smile before she dashed upstairs where she grabbed her Toms and flew back down. Meredith shut the kitchen door behind her and hoped the dogs would be all right outside for the time being. She ran down the cold driveway in her bare feet and clambered up into the ambulance behind the stretcher. It fit between two cushioned bench seats, surrounded by medical equipment and mounted compartments on all sides.

  “You can sit right there,” Benny said, pointing to the bench on Gray’s left. Gray’s eyes were closed. Covered up to his chest in a white sheet and strapped to the stretcher, he looked suddenly so frail. His color had gone, and Meredith reached for his hand, wanting to feel the warmth of his touch to prove to herself he was okay. When she wrapped her hands around his, he opened his eyes.

  “I’m… so tired,” he said, frowning almost apologetically.

  “It’s okay,” she said, leaning close and brushing his hair away from his forehead. At her touch, his face relaxed.

  “Mmm… like that…”

  She stroked his hair and blinked away the tears that filled her eyes. “Your mom’s calling Dr. Cates, and she’s meeting us at the hospital,” she told him.

  He squeezed her hand in response.

  Benny worked beside him, starting an IV. “This should help with that headache, Mr. Blakewood,” he said. The ambulance sped through the Saint Streets, and Meredith tried to concentrate on what needed looking after instead of on the terror that threatened to choke her.