First Comes Marriage (Aster Bay #3)

Chapter Thirty-one

Baz threw another stone and watched it skip across the surface of the bay once, twice, then sink. Grunting in frustration, he bent and gathered another handful of the small smooth stones that littered this section of beach beneath the bridge and tried again. Once, twice, gone. He swore under his breath and tried again. And again. Each stone sinking too early.

Fucking rocks.

He shed his suit jacket, tossing it onto the beach. As though he were preparing for a fight, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, pacing at the water’s edge, his shiny dress shoes sinking into the wet sand there. They’d be ruined. He couldn’t be bothered to care.

He squared off with the open water, as though meeting an enemy in the boxing ring, exhaled hard through his nose, and sent another stone skipping across the water. When it, too, sank, he threw down the remaining stones, cursing.

This was supposed to be his place, the one place where all the rest of the noise faded away and he could think, but now all he could see were flashes of the other night. Sabrina in his lap, her hair in the wind, those fucking red lips.

He shouldn’t have come here. But there wasn’t a place in town that didn’t hold her memory now. Part of him wanted to go home to her, to shout and fight and fuck until there was nothing left to do but forgive her. He was hurt and angry, all his old wounds pushed to the surface and cut open to bleed, but he loved her. He loved her. And yet she’d somehow believed he was capable of leaving her, of taking from her and hurting her the way her ex had.

Didn’t you, though? She wanted to explain herself and you wouldn’t listen, just like you wouldn’t listen ten years ago. Jesus Christ, she was in pain and you walked away.

Fucking stupid voices in his head. He wanted to be angry, dammit, not feel guilty.

He’d work off the last of this adrenaline and then he’d go find her. She’d tell him he was an idiot. He’d agree. They’d make up. It would be fine. Couples fought, right? It would be fine.

He threw another stone across the bay, but his heart wasn’t in it. She’d hurt him, but he’d hurt her too. His anger dissipated, only to be replaced by guilt, sour and twisting in his stomach.

Don’t give up on us. Sebastian, please.

It was real to me.

He scrubbed his hand over his face. Jesus Christ, he was an asshole. Fuck forgiving her , he needed to beg for her forgiveness. And he didn’t have any idea how to do that. Baz had never asked anyone for absolution before—aside from a priest during confession—and he wasn’t exactly known for being forthcoming with his own forgiveness. Baz was the guy who held a grudge against his friend for ten years because of one sentence in a text message and a handful of things he’d heard out of context. But he didn’t want to be that guy anymore. That guy didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as Sabrina, let alone to call her his wife.

He would make himself worthy of her. He’d do whatever it took, every day, for as long as they both lived, to prove his love to her.

But first, he had to apologize .

And get flowers. Flowers probably wouldn’t hurt. The biggest bouquet of flowers you can find.

Baz turned at the sound of a car approaching, only moderately surprised when he recognized Gavin’s hatchback pulling up beside his BMW. The car was hardly in park when Gavin threw open the door and stormed across the beach towards Baz.

“Where the hell have you been?” Gavin demanded.

“I know. I’m an asshole. I’ll apologize,” Baz said, reaching for his jacket.

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Tessa’s water broke. She and Jamie are at the hospital now. And Sabrina—” He paused, scanning Baz’s face, his eyes softening in a way that was probably meant to be comforting but sent fear spiking through Baz’s heart.

“What about Sabrina?”

“We have to go,” Gavin said.

“Gav, tell me.”

“She collapsed. In the yard. The paramedics think it might be appendicitis. She’s—”

Baz was already pushing past Gavin, back towards his car, his heart pounding in an endless chant that sounded a lot like his wife’s name.

Hold on, wildflower. I’m coming.

“Baz, you can’t drive.” Gavin had to run to catch up to him, meeting him at his car door. “Come on. I’ll take you.”

***

It had been hours. Or maybe only an hour? Time had no meaning in the pale seafoam green hospital waiting room where Baz had been pacing since he and Gavin arrived.

Gavin sat in one of the identical chairs, flipping through each of the magazines on the little side table until he’d been reduced to doing the hidden picture searches in the Highlights. He didn’t say a word. He hardly even looked at Baz. And somehow it helped. Knowing Gavin was there, waiting for when Baz needed him, but pretending he was too engrossed in finding the green teacup hidden in the tree leaves to pay attention to Baz’s breakdown.

“It’s been too long,” Baz said, mostly to himself, as he passed Gavin and began another lap around the mostly deserted waiting room.

Gavin glanced up at him, his face a neutral mask. “It takes as long as it takes.”

Baz scoffed, scraping his hand along his jaw, and came to a stop in front of his friend. “They have to know something by now.”

Gavin set down the magazine. “She’s going to be okay. The nurse said she was awake in the ambulance and during her scans, talking to the doctors before they took her in for surgery. Someone will come get you when they know something.”

When they’d arrived at the hospital, the astringent scent of ammonia cleaners and the hum of the fluorescent lights had snapped into stark reality. Sabrina— his Sabrina—was here, somewhere behind those double doors, in surgery, in pain, scared and alone. He’d left her alone.

He dug his hands into his pockets, fingering the rings they’d given him when he’d arrived. Her wedding rings, removed before she went into surgery. He should have been there.

Baz sank into a seat next to Gavin.

She doesn’t even know I love her.

He scrubbed his hand over his face and slid his hands into his hair, digging his fingertips into his scalp to ground himself in the moment.

She will not die today. She can’t die when she doesn’t even know I love her .

“She knows,” Gavin said softly. Baz shot him a look, desperate to believe him. “You should tell her anyway. Women like that. And for some reason, this woman loves you too.”

Baz shook his head. “I was an asshole.”

“Yeah, you probably were. I didn’t say you don’t owe her an apology.”

“I don’t know how to do this.”

“You just do it.” Gavin leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and leveling Baz with his most parental cut-the-shit look. “You wake up each day and you decide she’s worth it. You decide to stop letting your baggage get in the way of your happiness.” He leaned back, picking up Highlights again and flipping through the brightly colored pages. “Let me tell you, when you finally stop pretending she’s not the most important thing in your life—” He whistled. “There’s nothing better.”

Baz pushed to his feet. He couldn’t sit there any longer and wait. Sabrina was back there. Alone. He pressed his palms flat against the cool top of the desk at the edge of the waiting room and made sure to keep his voice quiet, even, to project the appearance that he wasn’t a few seconds away from completely losing his shit.

“Is there any update? Her name is Sabrina Page and—”

“Sir, I don’t have any new information. I promise, as soon as she’s in recovery, someone will come talk to you,” the woman behind the desk repeated.

“Does it usually take this long? It’s been a long time—”

“I promise you she is being well taken care of.” The woman looked at him with an expectant eyebrow raise, waiting for him to accept her meager information and go sit in the waiting room for another indeterminate length of time.

Fuck that.

“You don’t understand. I should be with her,” he said, pressing his palms down harder to keep his hands from shaking. “I should be— ”

The double doors to the left of the desk burst open, a trio of harried-looking doctors in green scrubs guiding a gurney through the doorway and down the hall towards another set of double doors, already swinging open. And on that bed, a spray of auburn hair against the white pillow, a too-pale face dotted with freckles. Baz peeled away from the desk, turning to follow after the hospital bed as it rolled away.

“Sabrina!”

“Sir, you need to step back.”

“Sabrina!” he called again, trying to move around the woman from behind the desk who suddenly seemed a whole lot more formidable now that she was standing. He really didn’t want to knock down this poor woman trying to do her job but he needed to get to— “Sabrina!”

“Sir, step back.”

“Sebastian?” Sabrina’s voice was thin, frail, but it was a balm to his frayed nerves.

“We need you to step back.” One of the doctors at Sabrina’s bedside turned to Sebastian, blocking his path.

He called after her, moving faster towards her. “I’m here, wildflower. I’m—”

A hand landed on his shoulder, trying to guide him away from her. “Sir—”

“That’s my wife!” Baz roared.

Suddenly everything was quiet—no more fluorescent light hum, no more squeaky hospital bed wheel—only Baz’s own ragged breathing.

“That’s my wife,” he repeated, quieter, grasping for some semblance of calm.

The doctor in his path glanced back at his colleagues, seeming to come to some sort of silent consensus, then stepped back. Suddenly he was guiding Baz towards Sabrina instead of blocking his path and Baz didn’t think he’d ever wanted to hug a stranger more .

“Your wife has just come from surgery. She’ll be groggy for another hour or so, and she’ll need to stay overnight for observation, but she did very well,” the doctor by Sabrina’s feet said as Baz dropped to his knees at her bedside, pulling her hand into his grasp. He held it with both of his hands, pressing her curled fingers to his lips as the doctor continued. Bits of what the doctor was saying floated through the haze of Baz’s relief at seeing Sabrina, things like, “ruptured cyst” and “ovarian torsion” and “internal bleeding” and— fuck.

“I’m sorry,” he said. She looked so small in the hospital bed, surrounded by this small army of doctors. “For everything. I’m so sorry.”

“Sebastian, you’re here,” she said happily, her speech slurred. She used her free hand to stroke his hair, his cheek. A frown stole over her face, her eyes narrowing in confusion. “Why are you here? You’re mad at me. Or am I mad at you? Someone’s mad. Oh! Do you want to know a secret?”

“Always.”

She raised her head off the pillow and craned it towards him, whispering in the loudest whisper he’d ever heard. “They gave me pain meds. The good kind! They really work!” Baz bit the inside of his cheek to keep from loosing the relieved laughter bubbling up inside him as she plopped back down on the pillow. “What were you saying?”

Baz turned his face towards her palm, pressing a kiss there. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes fell closed, a smile splitting across her face, and despite the hospital gown and the IV in her arm and how weak she looked, it was the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “Don’t be sorry. You have the fancy insurance. It’s such good insurance. Did you know that? They—” She clicked her tongue and spread out her fingers. “—fixed me right up.” She looked into his eyes, her face sobering for a minute. “I’m really glad I married you. ”

“Because of the fancy insurance?” he asked, no longer bothering to hold back his smile. She probably wouldn’t remember any of this conversation later.

“No! Because you’re cute—” She dragged out the word.

“I’m not cute.”

“Yup. You are. You’re cute and smart and I like your penis jewelry.” One of the doctors cleared his throat and looked away. Not that Sabrina noticed. She was too busy trying to poke Sebastian’s nose with the tip of her index finger—something that took multiple attempts before she finally landed on her target with a delighted “boop!” Baz caught her wrist and pressed his lips to her palm. Sabrina sighed happily. “I love you.”

Baz’s heart stopped, but Sabrina was already flopping back against the pillow.

“We need to get her to her room,” one of the doctor’s said gently. “Someone will be out to get you as soon as she’s settled and ready for visitors.”

Sabrina’s hand reached out, gripping Sebastian’s, her eyes flying open as she searched for him. “You’ll still be here, right?”

“Yeah, wildflower. I’m not going anywhere.”