Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2) (8 page)

“Are you two packed and ready to leave tomorrow?” Lailah’s mother asked, holding a glass of chardonnay in one hand, while her fingers brushed the outer curve of Marcus’s thumb.

“I think so, but it would have been helpful if I’d known what to pack. Right now, I feel like I packed for six different trips because I had absolutely no idea what to bring, so I was forced to bring everything,” Lailah answered in a huff.

I couldn’t help the tiny smirk that spread across my face. “You seem awfully put-out for a girl who’s about to go on her romantic honeymoon,” I retorted.

“Oh, is that where I’m going? Because I’m not quite sure. We could be doing survival training, for all I know.”

“Now, there’s an idea.” I winked before leaning over to kiss her forehead. “I promise, no matter where we go or what we do, it will be magical. Want to know why?”

“Why?” she asked, her vividly bright blue eyes seeking mine.

“Because I’ll be with you.”

“I think I just threw up a little in my mouth,” Roman muttered.

I shot him a dirty look. Just in time, the waiters arrived with our dinner.

My asshole brother was once again forgotten as we settled into our amazing meal. Since moving to New York, I had made it my personal mission to make sure Lailah learned as much about the city as possible—from the food to the culture and right down to the grimy subway system. I’d known she didn’t want to live in a glass box anymore, and I didn’t ever want her to feel like I was putting her in one.

There were times when I still worried about her though. When on a crowded street with someone nearby coughing, I’d find myself pulling her away, wondering if she needed to wear a mask more often. She had them, but she loathed the idea of wearing those terrible blue plastic things in public. She would wear one when the situation called for it, but luckily, those had been few and far between.

Keeping her away from infection had so far been relatively easy. Combined with our vigilance, we’d also been lucky. She attended a university where colds, flus, and God-knows-what ran rampant. She’d caught a few minor things but so far, so good.

Her good health had allowed us to travel the city in abundance. We’d been tourists, learning everything there was to offer. Much of it, I’d already seen many times over, but some of it had been just as new to me as it was to her. She had been astonished to know I’d never taken a ferry to the Statue of Liberty. It just wasn’t something we’d done in my childhood. I’d seen Lady Liberty standing proud out in the distance more times than I could count, but I’d never actually taken the time to go out and touch her. It had been thrilling.

Of course, everything with Lailah always was.

She brought a whole new sense of adventure to life that I’d never expected.

That was how tonight at this restaurant had come about. I’d seen this place a dozen times on my way to work, but I’d never given much thought to it. One day, Lailah had dragged me in for lunch, and we’d discovered our place. It was quaint and cozy. The food was amazing—fresh and organic—and the chef always managed to think outside the box. We had become regulars from that moment on.

“Hey,” Lailah said, looking at my plate of braised pork loin with marked interest.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, you can have half,” I answered, not bothering to wait for the question I’d known she was about to ask.

Her face lit up with glee as she began to cut her chicken in half before setting it on my plate. “Can I have—”

“Yes, you can have half of my risotto as well. But I get half of those potatoes!” I added.

We started our normal ritual of halving everything on our plates and shuffling it around. Lailah could never decide on just one dish, so she tended to always want what was on mine as well. Since realizing this, I’d been more than happy to share—as long as I got half of hers.

I was a big guy. I couldn’t survive on half a plate of food.

Looking up, I found Grace watching us with doe eyes. Her lips were puckered into a little pout.

“What?”

“That’s adorable—and kind of weird at the same time,” she said.

“Shut it.” I grinned before stuffing a large piece of potato in my mouth.

Everyone soon finished their plates, and dessert was about to be served. Lailah and I had preselected this course, wanting it to be special and knowing many might try to go without.

“Pudding?” Grace laughed as the waiters set the dishes in front of everyone. “We’re having chocolate pudding for dessert?”

Lailah dipped her finger into the dark chocolate creaminess and brought it to her lips. “Yep, we sure are.”

Everyone chuckled as spoons were lifted, and people began eating.

“Oh my heavens,” my mom said from across the table after taking her first bite. “This is divine.”

And it was. It wasn’t the store-bought brand the hospital cafeteria stocked that had once brought two lonely people together years ago. We still loved our Snack Packs, especially in bed, but for tonight, we wanted something special, and the chef had given us just that.

Taking my first bite, I glanced over just in time to see my brother spoon-feeding his escort. Her tongue slithered out like a snake, the tip seductively caressing the silky chocolate. My brother looked on with a lustful dark expression.

Now, I was the one who wanted to hurl.

And my appetite was officially gone.

Lailah, having already finished her bowl, took a few bites from mine before everything was cleared off the table. As conversations ended, jackets and coats were returned, and everyone was bundling up for the cold weather outside.

We all headed slowly for the entrance. Lailah and I trailed behind, our joined hands swinging between us. As we reached the door, we paused to stand face-to-face.

“I guess this is where we say good-bye.”

“Not good-bye,” she corrected. “That’s the great thing about marriage—never having to say good-bye.”

“Then, what do we say?” I asked, grasping her hands in my own.

“See you later.” she winked, reminding me of the wisdom I’d once given her not so long ago.

“Okay.” I smiled. “See you later, Angel.”

She grinned, reaching up to briefly kiss my lips. My arm caught her waist and held her, deepening our once chaste kiss, until catcalls sounded around us.

“Come on, Jude. Save some for the wedding!” Marcus called out.

We pulled apart, and a smug grin plastered across my face as our foreheads touched.

“I think that’s your father’s way of saying that it’s time to go.” I chuckled.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Cavanaugh.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

I watched her begin to walk away. Her fingers lingered, holding and grasping on mine, until we were finally forced to let go. The door swung open, and I felt the chill from outside hit my face as she and the rest of the crew staying at the hotel walked through it before heading down the street. My hands went to my pockets, seeking the warmth they’d lost when she left. I never noticed my brother still lingering in the corner.

“How about a celebratory drink? One final hurrah before the last nail gets pounded into that coffin of yours tomorrow.”

I turned to find him watching me, his dark eyes skeptical and leery.

“Where did your date go?” I asked, stepping toward the bar, figuring that was enough of an answer for him.

“She had to . . . work.”

“Hmm,” was all I said.

We settled into two stools and ordered—whiskey sour for Roman, Coke for me.

“Why did you bring her?” I asked, turning toward him, as I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. “You knew it would piss me off. So, why do it? Do you really hate me that much, Roman?”

His expression hardened. “You know, not every-fucking-thing in this world revolves around you, little brother.” He stood swiftly, swaying slightly, and he stepped away from the bar. “I think I’ll go find someone else to drink with tonight. Drinking solo wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.”

He threw down a twenty for the drinks we had yet to be served and bailed, leaving me confused and alone at the bar.

Our drinks arrived moments later, and as the bartender set them down, he looked around and asked, “Your friend all right?”

“I have no idea,” I answered honestly.

With Roman, I never did.

“RISE AND SHINE!” I announced, spreading the heavy curtains apart to let the golden sunlight stream into the previously dark hotel room.

The large space was immediately flooded with blinding bright light from the world outside, and I turned to see two unhappy people gazing up at me from the beds across the room.

“You know, when I agreed to this sleepover, I assumed it would include sleep—or at least more sleep than I usually receive during a normal night at home with an infant and a husband who swears he doesn’t steal all the covers. He does, by the way.”

I giggled softly as I looked over at my poor sleepy friend. I tried covering my mouth, but it in no way hid the smile peeking out. “It’s my wedding day!” I said happily. “We’ve got things to do!”

“Sweetheart, you know it’s only”—my mother glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand separating the two beds—“five in the morning!” She let out a groan as her head hit the pillow.

“The hairdresser won’t be here until noon!” Grace nearly cried, pulling her pillow over her head in an effort to turn off the sun.

“Yes, but I thought we could get breakfast and then maybe, um . . . I don’t know.” My voice drifted off.

“You couldn’t sleep,” my mother guessed, her lethargic mood transforming into a warm smile.

“No. I’m too excited.”

“Well, let’s all get up then,” Grace said begrudgingly.

I skipped across the room and wrapped her in a tight hug. She returned the gesture, and I felt her mouth curl into a smile against my cheek.

“You know, there isn’t another female on the planet I would get out of bed for this early—or one who could get me into a green dress.”

I pulled back and met her gaze. “It will be stunning—I guarantee it—even if it’s not pink.”

“Okay, but if not, you have to promise to do all of this over again—in pink.”

I laughed as my hands wove with hers, and she gave them a tight squeeze.

“Deal,” I answered.

“So, what’s on the agenda first, boss lady?” she asked, covering a yawn with the back of her hand.

“Well, why don’t you go jump in the shower, and I’ll order room service?”

“Okay, but make sure you order at least a gallon of coffee. No, make that two. And let me know if my phone chirps while I’m in the bathroom. Brian said he had a handle on things, but I’m still waiting for that panicked phone call.”

“Has he never had Zander alone?” my mom asked. She was now sitting up in bed with a warm robe she’d grabbed from her suitcase wrapped around her.

“A few hours here and there but not overnight—and vice versa. I’ve never been without him this long. I know he’s just down the hall, but it still feels weird to wake up and not jump out of bed to check on him.”

I smiled, seeing the way my best friend had changed over the last two years. Her heart had doubled in size from becoming a wife first and then adding the role of a mother. She breathed out love from every pore in her body, and I felt nothing but pure joy for her happiness.

There were times in my life when those I loved had been timid, nearly scared to share with me the joy they felt in their own lives because of the situation my sickness had presented in my own life. What they hadn’t understood was that seeing excitement, hearing about their accomplishments, was what helped make the rough days and nights a bit more bearable.

I had known my life would never be like the nurses who had befriended me or the patients I’d met who eventually left and moved on. But knowing them and becoming a part of their lives, for even a brief moment, had helped ease the loneliness and given me a window to the outside world, making the walls around me feel just slightly thinner.

Now that I was free, no longer a slave to the heart that had held me captive for so long, my friends and family would freely share their ups and downs with me, and it was a wondrous feeling.

It felt normal.

And being normal was all I’d ever wanted.

“Well, so far, no texts and no missed calls,” I said, holding up her iPhone in its bedazzled pink case. “So, I think your knightly husband is handling the infant just fine. Go get in the shower, and I will order us food!”

“And coffee!” she reminded me as she marched into the shower.

I picked up the phone receiver, pressed the number for room service, and waited until someone picked up.

“How may I help you, Mrs. Cavanaugh?” the person asked on the other end.

I stumbled momentarily, having never been called by my soon-to-be surname. The room had been booked under Jude, so I guessed it was just naturally assumed I was the Mrs. to the Mr.

Mrs. Jude Cavanaugh.

It was surreal and surprising.

It was completely amazing.

I quickly came back to reality and placed our breakfast order. I asked for enough food to serve an army—or at least the entire floor. I felt a little guilty for waking everyone up so early, and I wanted to make it up to them. So, after hearing the total bill that would have once made me faint, I thanked the man and hung up.