She stood and placed her hands on her hips. “Monday morning you will return that camper to the dealer. Tell them you changed your mind.”
His mouth dropped open. “Do you know how much money we’ll lose if I do that?”
“Do you know how much more money you’ll lose if I divorce your stupid ass for expecting that’s how I’d spend my retirement?”
Holy shit. She wasn’t serious…was she? “Caro—”
She drilled that sharp index finger into his chest, punctuating every word. “I. Am. Not. Kidding. Me or the camper, Carson McKay. You choose.”
After the camper was gone, they never spoke of it again.
Chapter Thirty
Hospital, Day 7—morning
Carson had overslept, and the nurses hadn’t woken him so he’d missed three visits with Carolyn. By the time his visitation window arrived and he’d dragged himself into her room, he was a wreck.
“Hey sugar. I’m sittin’ here beside you. I know you can hear me. I need you to hear me. Come back to me. I need you to know that I’m right here, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.
“I’ve tried to stay so positive every time I’m in here. But the closer it gets to them pullin’ you out of this, the more I worry that you’ll wake up in pain.” He studied the rise and fall of her chest. “Every time you brought a child into this world, I hated the pain it caused you. Even when you swore it was worth it in the end, I wanted to shoulder that burden.”
In his mind—maybe his crazy mind?—he heard her soft, I know that.
His phantom conversation with her seemed so much harder on the seventh day. He’d happily relived a lifetime of memories in the last six days. Why was he struggling now?
Because you’ve wanted it to be over and it almost is. And you’re scared to find out what happens next.
So he kept babbling. “You’ve been so healthy over the years. You wouldn’t get so much as a sniffle when it seemed at least one of the kids was always sick. Your blood pressure is good, so’s your cholesterol. You didn’t smoke, you didn’t drink to excess. How’s it fair that you’re in here now…” It should be me in that hospital bed. I should’ve been exercising my own damn horse. I asked too much of you. I always have.
Stop with the guilt, Carson.
He really was losing it because he swore she’d whispered that in his ear.
Get it together.
Carson traced every bone in her hand. “I remember how worried you were that you’d inherited your mom’s arthritis. I’d catch you starin’ at your hands every once in a while, wondering if they’d turn on you like hers had. If you’d become frail like her. But again, you dodged that bullet. You are the strongest person I know, Caro.”
Her sweet voice saying, I know that too, sweetheart, floated through him and his flesh became a mass of goose bumps.
Carson felt her. This time he knew she was listening to him.
“I was so damn disoriented when I woke up after surgery. Didn’t remember nothin’ about before. Nothin’ during.”
“Mr. McKay?” the nurse said from the doorway. “Time’s up.”
No. Don’t make me leave her.
And for the first time in six days, Carson ignored the nurse and he kept on talking. “I don’t want that for you, not remembering. In the past seven days I’ve remembered so much.”