Wes and I spent the rest of November with my Father. Physically, he was doing really well. Mentally, not so much. Over the two weeks I’d updated him as much as possible about what had gone down in our lives, explained what I did each month, and then finally admitted what had happened when he contracted that virus and the allergy that almost killed him. He said he was blissfully ignorant the entire time. Claimed that one day he was black-and-blue and closing his eyes against the black asphalt, wishing for death, and the next he opened them to the white convalescent hospital room. He couldn't recall anything in between.
The therapist said that was normal and that he might later recall us talking to him or remember voices in his dreams, but for the most part, his brain and body were healthy. Now he just needed to work hard through physical therapy, attend counseling about his addictions, and join an AA chapter in his area. For now, the psychologist set him up on one visit and two phone calls per week until he felt he was ready to be more independent.
Wes set up my dad with two nurses to care for him in alternating twelve-hour shifts, get him to his appointments, and keep him company. Maddy quit one of her extra classes so she’d have more time to visit with Pops each day. Though I felt bad that I wouldn’t be around, I reminded myself that I’d spent the entire year giving up my life for him. It was time for me to go home, back to Malibu where Wes and I could plan our wedding and rejoice in all the many things we had to be thankful for.
* * *
Sitting on the back patio, staring out over the ocean, I imagined our wedding day. I knew where we’d put the chairs for the guests, where the aisle would go, and the exact backdrop of where I’d say “I do” to the man I loved.
I sipped on the cool glass of Chardonnay and crossed my legs under the fluffy throw blanket Mrs. Croft handed me. It wasn’t really cold in Malibu, even though it had just turned into December.
My phone rang, and I cringed. I should have tossed the damn thing into the sand so that I could sit and enjoy my home in peace. Wes was out surfing, catching some waves. I could see his lone form riding a wave in the distance. Sexy as all get out the way he commanded that board. Damn, I was a lucky woman.
I answered the phone without even looking at the display, too focused on my man tearing up the waves on his surfboard. “Hello?”
“Ms. Saunders, this is Shandi, Dr. Hoffman’s assistant.”
She always did that. Announced herself as Dr. Hoffman’s assistant, as though I didn’t already know that, having worked with him the last two months.
“Yes, Shandi. Hello. What can I do for you?”
“Dr. Hoffman has your next assignment.”
I crinkled my eyes. “Oh? Usually I pick the subject matter.”
Her voice took on an overconfident, cocky demeanor. “Not this time. He wants you to go to Aspen, Colorado to interview and film the local artists there. A man contacted the station and offered the show a lot of money to do a segment on his wife.”
“Who’s his wife?”
“Some mountain woman who paints hokey dokey pictures of the mountains and trees. I don’t really know. Your assistant will compile the details. He figured while you were there collecting a mint for the show, you could do your segment on beautiful art next week.”
“Next week? He wants me there next week? You’re kidding. I just got home.”
Shandi groaned annoyingly. “Not our problem that you spent your time gallivanting with your family during the holiday. Now it’s time to get some work done. Should I tell Drew you have a problem with doing the job, because I’m sure he knows plenty of buxom brunettes that he could call on in a pinch…” she threatened.
“No! No. It’s fine. I’ll do it. Can I have the same crew from New York?”
“You want the goth girl, Kathy?”
Goth girl. The woman had dark hair, wore black-rimmed glasses and was automatically stereotyped as “the goth girl.” Sometimes I really hated Hollywood. Mostly, I just despised Drew’s assistant.
I sighed. “Yes, I’d like Kathy Rowlinski please. As a matter of fact, is there a way that Century can make her my official production assistant?”
“You’ll have to talk to Drew or Leona about that.”
“Fine. Thank you, Shandi, for calling. I’ll look forward to receiving the details of the segment.”
I groaned, pressed the off button on the phone, threw my arm back, and chucked the phone out toward the sand.
Wes’s arm came out of nowhere and caught the phone midair. “Lose something, sweetheart?” He laughed and made his way over the sandy hill and up the stairs. His wet suit was hanging down around his hips, his chest soaked with water trails. He turned on the water spout at the top of the steps and rinsed off his sandy feet.
Without even thinking, fully clothed, I went right up to him, leaned over, found one of those water trails, and dragged my tongue from the fantastic V over his hips, up his rock hard abs, and over his chiseled pecs until I got up to his mouth where I took his lips in a blistering kiss. I plastered my body against his, letting the freezing cold water from the ocean soak into my clothes. I didn’t care. Right then, I needed to be with him and drown my mind and body in the man I loved and get over the fact that I was going to have to leave in a week.
He lifted me up and palmed my ass before he walked through the house to our bedroom where he proceeded to welcome me home in the best possible way.
* * *