Chapter 37. Don’t Ask Me on the Phone

Tessa’s POV

“I should have robbed your closet instead of crying,” I tell Darcy. “It would have been more productive.”

“You cried?” Darcy’s voice is still hoarse, but her eyes are bright, and for the first time in a week, she has color in her cheeks. “Over me? Tessa Evans? The girl who didn’t cry at Marley and Me?”

“I cried at Marley and Me.”

“You said the dog was a statistical outlier.”

“He was a statistical outlier.”

She laughs and then winces and puts a hand on her side, over the bandages. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh. They stitched me twice.”

It’s Thursday evening. Her second surgery was a tiny one, the doctors keep saying. A small vessel that had been missed. Forty minutes, in and out. But she looks smaller in the hospital bed than she did on Monday, and every time a monitor beeps, my whole body jumps.

I woke up at noon in the hotel in Wyatt’s shirt, alone, with a note on the nightstand in his handwriting. <