“I bet he was.” Sven gestured at her champagne. “Try it. It’s very special champagne. 1928 Vintage Krug. I keep several bottles for special occasions.”
Annalise contemplated her glass.
“It’s all right. I gave you permission to drink. After all, it’s our wedding dinner. A little champagne is appropriate for such an occasion.”
She stared with child-like excitement at the bubbles in the flute. “You’re really taking this marriage thing seriously.”
“Naturally. I’ve never been married before.”
Annalise cut her gaze to him. Her big, doe-like brown eyes watched him with wonder. “You haven’t? Aren’t you going to regret this later?”
“Marrying you? No. I won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I just know.” Sven sipped his champagne. “Are you regretting marrying me?”
“Me?” She startled for a second and quickly shook her head. “I don’t know. I won’t—I think. It doesn’t matter to me as long as I can help Robby.”
“It seems you always put your little brother’s needs before your own.”
“Of course. Robby is the only family I have left. I promised Mom I’d take care of him. I’d hate to break that promise.” She paused. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.”
Sven wondered just how much she had suffered beneath that bright smile and cheery façade. He covered her hand with his and squeezed it. “Don’t worry. I will do everything in my power to get your brother the best care. He’s a fighter, isn’t he? He won’t give up, and neither should you.”
The smile returned. “Mr. Torvik, I mean, Sven, can we stay friends even after we get divorced? This marriage is supposed to last a year, right? I won’t bother you with stupid things or anything. I know you’re a busy man. I’d just like to have someone to talk to once in a while.”
Suddenly, an invisible lump rose in his throat. A year. Twelve months. Fifty-two weeks. How unfairly short. He had started enjoying her presence, and the thought of not seeing her pretty smile every day in his life appalled him. No. He couldn’t let that happen.
“Sven?”
“Let’s not talk about divorce. We just got married today.” Sven lifted his champagne flute. “How about a toast? To our happy marriage.”
Annalise raised hers. The flutes clicked. She took a curious, tentative sip.
Sven schooled a happy face while he brooded about how short the term of their union would be. As Annalise hiccupped from the champagne bubbles, Sven vowed to make her fall in love with him before the year was over.
You’re mine, Annalise.
Whatever it takes.
Annalise no longer believed in fairy tales after her dad passed away, but when she walked down the hallway between the dining hall and the living room, she couldn’t help feeling like Cinderella. She—a dirt-poor orphan suddenly became a princess, marrying a handsome and wealthy Prince Charming. Robby wouldn’t believe it if she told him what had happened today.
She wished she could tell him, but it wouldn’t be much use anyway. About four weeks ago, her little brother had slipped into a coma. Robby had complications with his cancer treatment. One morning, the doctor told her Robby had pneumonia. Later that day, he was declared brain damaged when his breathing was severely disrupted, depriving oxygen delivery to his brain. Yesterday, the doctor told her that her brother was classified as being in a permanent vegetative state. He likely would never regain consciousness. Then the hospital dropped the bomb: they would move him to a facility that took care of patients with his condition, a county hospice. It would cost too much money for the hospital to continue caring for Robby. And since his prognosis wasn’t good, a hospice was the best long-term alternative.
She had been too distraught, too emotionally wrecked to think straight. Juggling between long hours and piles of bills to be paid, she began to crumble, losing her fighting spirit. The doctors had given up on Robby months ago. By moving Robby to a hospice, Annalise felt that she would be giving up on him too, and she didn’t want that. So she struggled to keep him in the hospital.
Annalise stood before a bouquet of red roses. She had never seen roses that size. They were huge with dark green stems and leaves, supporting half-open crimson red petals. The smell was heavenly too. She lowered her head and breathed in the seductive aroma. Her worries and woes melted away. She was happy that she could keep Robby where he was and not have to send him to that death camp. Annalise had seen enough of county hospices to last a lifetime, and didn’t wish to step into one ever again. When her father was in the final stage of his illness, he spent eight months in there. The place was depressing. All of those sick people waiting for death to come and grant them mercy.