But one look at Alyssa assured Bree that smile definitely wasn’t fooling her. “Maybe I should give Danny a call, see if it can make me not so damn angry.”
“You like being angry,” Alyssa reminded her. Then she shifted on the bed and reached for the little gadget hooked up to her pain medication. It was narcotics, the kind that would put a grown man to sleep. The dosage was patient-controlled and Alyssa pushed the button with a sigh. “I hate needing this stuff.”
Her lids drooped low over her eyes and Bree waited, wondering if the medicine was going to knock Alyssa out, but it didn’t. She suspected the pain was just getting too bad for medication to control. “Do you need me to get some ice? A blanket?”
“No. Just that favor.”
Reaching for Alyssa’s hand, she said, “Name it.”
“It’s about Colby.”
Bree’s heart skipped then started to beat faster, faster, until it all but choked her. She schooled her features, years of practice keeping her from reacting, other than her racing heart. “What about him? He’ll be fine, Alyssa. I’ll be here if he needs me, but he’s going to be fine.”
“Sooner or later, yeah. I know he will. And so will you. But that’s not it.” She wiggled around and said, “Help me sit up, will you? I’m so damn tired of lying down.”
A few minutes later, several pillows plumped up behind her back and the head of the bed elevated, Alyssa sighed. “Oh, that’s better. I might make Colby take me out to the garden later. I’ve missed working in it.”
“I bet your flowers miss you working on them. Colby’s doing what he can, but he doesn’t have a green thumb. I offered to help but he said he’d rather do it.”
A grin tugged Alyssa’s lips. “For me.” She sighed, gazing out the window at the riot of colors blooming. “Maybe later you can take care of it. I know he’s not going to keep messing with it after.”
“Consider it done.”
Silence fell and Bree found herself uncomfortable with it, nervous. It was weird, feeling nervous like this with her best friend. They didn’t constantly need the silence filled, but today, it felt different. Edgy. Heavy.
A minute later, though, Bree wished for the awkward silence again. Her heart slammed up into her throat, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep her reaction under control. Hell, she couldn’t say anything.
Patiently, Alyssa repeated the question she’d asked only seconds earlier. “Do you love Colby?”
Some trite lie formed on the tip of her tongue. Of course I love him—he’s your husband and that makes him almost a brother to me. But she couldn’t. It was just too wrong—lying to her dying friend, claiming to feel a fraternal emotion toward a man who inspired anything but fraternal thoughts. In the end, all she could do was just sit there and blink away tears.
“What’s going on, Lys?” she asked woodenly.
“I’m taking care of unfinished business—namely you and Colby. You do love him, don’t you?”
Mute, Bree nodded. The knot in her throat was so damn huge, it felt as though she was going to choke on it.
It was words, she realized. Apologies that she should have given long ago. “I’m so sorry, Alyssa. I just…I can’t…I…I…” Jerking her hands away, she covered her face and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Why? I love him. I know how damn easy he is to love.”
“He’s your husband, damn it. I shouldn’t…”
“You can’t control who you love. It’s not something we’re given a choice in, Bree. And it’s not something we should choose. Why be sorry for something you can’t control? You’ve never done anything about it, you’ve hidden it, you’ve never let it come between us. It’s not as if you ever tried to take him away from me.”
Appalled, Bree stared at Alyssa. “Why would I? He loves you. He—”
The faint smile on Alyssa’s mouth had Bree swallowing the rest of her words.
“I know.” Shaking her head, Alyssa said, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
Although it wasn’t a question, Bree couldn’t help but respond to it anyway. “I never did anything, Lys. I swear, I never—”
“Bree. I know,” Alyssa said softly. She held out her hand—thin, frail and trembling.
But when Bree linked their hands, she felt as though she was the weak one. Physically, emotionally and mentally. “You’re not mad at me? Why aren’t you mad at me?”
“No, I’m not mad. Hell, Bree, how could I be mad?”
“I don’t get how you can’t be mad.” Sick inside, humiliated, scared, miserable, Bree tried to pull away. “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Alyssa, impatient as ever, rolled her eyes. “Enough with the ‘I’m sorry’ crap, Bree. It’s okay. I’m not mad. I just…well, look. I know you love him. That’s why I know I can ask this…favor.”