Anticipation(5)

His gaze took in the black leather two-seater couch, the wide-screen TV  with its proliferation of video-game consoles, and the Ikea coffee table  sporting a caddy full of remote controls. Everything was scrupulously  clean and tidy, and he knew before he went into the kitchen that it  would be the same. Blue was anal, verging on obsessive, about keeping  her spaces military neat and spare. There wasn't a single cushion or  throw blanket, vase or knickknack in sight. The kitchen was the same -  no funny fridge magnets with pithy sayings, no cookie jars shaped like  Winnie-the-Pooh. She kept things spartan, and claimed she liked it that  way.         

     



 

He had his own theories about the way she lived, but he wasn't stupid  enough to share them with her. She was incredibly reticent about her  childhood, and he knew he was very privileged to know what little he did  about it: that both her parents had died in a car accident when she was  six, that no relatives had come forward to claim her, and that she'd  grown up a ward of the state, bouncing from group home to foster home  and back again.

He hesitated when he came to her closed bedroom door. He and Blue had  done many things together - shared a one-person tent while camping,  spent hours at the beach in next to nothing, given each other shoulder  and neck rubs after long sessions at the studio - but he had never been  in her bedroom before. He'd caught glimpses when he'd visited, but he'd  never actually set foot in her most private, most personal domain.

He reminded himself of why he was here, and opened the door.

Her bed was made - surprise, surprise - and a stack of books formed a  tidy column on her bedside table, mostly the paranormal romance and  urban fantasy books that she favored. The quilt cover was a sensible,  plain navy, and there wasn't a single picture or piece of personalizing  art on the walls, despite the fact that she'd bought him a framed set of  black and white art prints for Christmas last year and was always  admiring the pieces Rafel picked up for his and Maggie's place.

Frowning, Eddie went to the utilitarian chest of drawers and began  opening drawers. Top left contained underwear, a riot of color and  animal prints in silk and lace. He grabbed a fistful and felt something  hard beneath all the flimsy fabric. He went fishing and came up with a  vibrator, a black silicone monster that made him seriously pity Blue's  past lovers. Jesus. How on earth was any mortal man supposed to measure  up? He slipped it into the drawer, burying it once more beneath her  underwear.

It took him two drawers to find her pajamas, and he grabbed a couple of  pairs. He opened one final drawer, wondering if there was something he'd  overlooked - a robe, perhaps, or maybe a hoodie in case she got cold -  and stared. A child's grubby, much-abused plush rabbit was squashed  between neat stacks of gym gear, one eye missing, its ears darkened from  years of handling. A tattered blue ribbon was tied around its neck.

He picked it up, registering the slightly-sticky feeling to the fur,  evidence of just how loved this toy had been. He studied the rabbit's  one-eyed face for a beat, then carefully placed it where he'd found it.

He went to the bathroom next and opened the cupboards. Her toothbrush  sat neatly in a clean glass, the toothpaste beside it - lid on, of  course. He grabbed both, along with the roll-on deodorant. In the shower  he found shampoo specially formulated for color-treated hair and added  it to his haul.

By the time he'd finished he had a pile of clothing and toiletries, and  he opened the closet in search of a gym or overnight bag. Stacks of  jeans and other pants filled one side, while the other was dedicated to  hanging space. A faint scent reached him, and he leaned forward,  inhaling traces of Blue's perfume, something rich and deep.

The leather overnight bag he'd given her several years ago sat on the  single shelf above the hanging space, and he pulled it out then returned  to the bed to fill it with the items he'd gathered. It was only as he  was leaving her bedroom that he caught sight of the peacock-blue silk  robe hanging from the back of the door, another gift from him.

He added the robe to the bag and let himself out, checking to make sure  the door was locked behind him. He felt an odd sense of guilt as he took  the stairs to the foyer. He'd known Blue for ten years, and if anyone  had asked him, he would have said he knew her better than almost anyone  on the planet after his twin. And yet he'd never have guessed that she  kept a memento from her childhood hidden in her home. He also knew  without asking that she'd hate that he had found it.

He tossed the bag into the rear of his Ferrari, shrugging off his  disquiet. The nurses had told him Blue would be in hospital for at least  a week so someone had had to fetch her things to make her more  comfortable. If Blue was mad with him for going through her stuff, she  could yell at him. He could take it.

What he couldn't take was the thought of that battered rabbit, shoved unceremoniously into the bottom-most drawer.

The one soft, sentimental thing Blue owned, hidden away like a dirty secret.

More tired than he could ever remember being, he headed for home.





The next time Blue woke, Maggie was sitting beside the bed.

"There you are," Maggie said, setting down the book she'd been reading and smiling at Blue.         

     



 

"How many days did I lose this time?" Blue asked.

"It's Monday night."

Only a few hours, then.

"How are you feeling?" Maggie asked.

"Like I've been hit by a bus instead of a motorbike."

Maggie's smile was strained.

"Too soon?" Blue asked.

"Give me a decade or so and I'll be able to laugh about it," Maggie  said, reaching for Blue's hand. Her eyes filled with tears and Blue  squeezed her hand.

"Those better be happy tears," Blue said.

"Relieved tears. You have no idea what it was like, seeing you in the street like that … "

"Here's a deal - from now on I cross at the lights."

"I will take that deal, and I will hold you to it, Blue Sullivan."  Maggie sniffed back her tears. "Are you hungry? They said you were  allowed to have some soup if you wanted it."

Blue thought about it for a few seconds. "I could eat," she admitted.

Maggie grinned. "Now I know you're going to be all right."

Blue rolled her eyes. Everyone was always giving her crap for how much she ate. She had a high metabolism, it wasn't her fault.

"And you rolled your eyes at me. Welcome back, babe," Maggie said.

Blue started to laugh, only remembering her sore ribs and belly at the last minute. "Ow. Don't make me laugh. It hurts."

"Noted."

Blue glanced at her friend's book. "What are we reading?"

"Faro's Daughter."

Blue squeezed Maggie's hand again. Georgette Heyer was Maggie's go-to  author, and Faro's Daughter was her all-time favorite comfort read.  Testament to how worried Maggie must have been.

"Sorry for ruining your birthday," Blue said quietly.

"You being okay is the best present ever, don't worry." Maggie slipped  her hand free and stood. "I'll go find a nurse and organize you some  food."

Blue tried to wriggle higher in the bed while her friend was gone, an  effort that left her dizzy with pain. Maybe lying still was a much, much  better plan. Sitting was over-rated, anyway.

"What did you do?" Maggie asked when she returned, a frown wrinkling her forehead.

"How do you know I did anything?"

"You're whiter than the sheets, you idiot."

"I may have tried to sit up a little."

"Don't do it again," Maggie said sternly.

"Okay, Nurse Ratched."

Maggie grabbed a spare pillow from somewhere beneath the bed and slipped  her arm around Blue's shoulders, easing her forward and tucking the  pillow behind her.

"You're good at that," Blue noted.

"Lots of practice," Maggie said dryly, and Blue remembered that her  friend's mother had been treated for breast cancer for years before  finally being declared a survivor.

Maggie pulled out her phone. "I promised Eddie I'd text him when you woke up. Give me a sec."

Blue watched as her friend's fingers sped over the touch screen,  thinking about the way Eddie had climbed onto the bed beside her and the  flash of memory that had come to her.

"Do you have any regrets, Maggs?" she asked impulsively.

Maggie glanced up from her phone. "Are we talking big or small? Second piece of chocolate cake or Sliding Doors?"

"Sliding Doors."

Maggie's gaze grew unfocused as she thought about it for a moment. Then  she shook her head. "No. Not really. Except maybe I wish I'd decided to  get a tattoo earlier."

She grinned, and Blue knew she was thinking about meeting Rafel.

"Why? Do you have a Sliding Doors regret?" Maggie asked.

"No," Blue lied, wishing she hadn't asked the question in the first place.

Maggie quirked an eyebrow, clearly curious. "Why did you ask, then?"

"Just wondering if I should have felt something, had some kind of  near-death experience. Maybe there's something wrong with me," Blue said  lightly.