How It's Going To Be [h.s.]

Chapter 67

{Kate's Point of View}

I closed my eyes for a moment and took everything in. There was a steady beeping sound marking and recording a heart rate. I could hear the quiet hum of fluorescent lights coming in from the hallway. The inescapable smell of sterile equipment, hand sanitizer, and latex filled my nose. In a panic, I opened my eyes. I felt just as I had when I woke up in the hospital after my concussion, but instead of finding myself in the hospital bed, I found my grandfather sleeping soundly in a hospital bed of his own.

My eyes itched with exhaustion and were swollen from an evening of crying. The shock of my grandfather suffering a stroke had not worn down. He was my best friend and biggest supporter. I had spent my childhood helping my grandfather in his garden and acting as his accomplice while stealing cookies from under my grandmother's nose. He was the best listener sitting quietly while I carried on about the stresses of school and friends when I was younger. Now he lay weak in a hospital bed dipping in and out of consciousness. His mouth drooped slightly and his left side was incredibly weak from the stroke. His grey hair was out of sorts and his skin looked thin and pale.

Doctors were working to isolate the cause of the stroke. The current theories were an existing blood clot getting stuck and forcing blood to flow around it, or a new blood clot may have formed. Several tests had been conducted all day including blood tests, x-rays, and MRIs.

"Papa," I sighed. I reached out and took his warm hand in mine. His fingers were wrinkled and calloused from decades of hard work. "I don't know if you can hear me or not. I wish you were awake so I could tell you how much I love you."

"Miss?" A nurse appeared in the doorway. "Visiting hours are over in ten minutes."

"Okay," I nodded absently. The nurse smiled sadly and stepped out of the room.

"I don't want to leave you here alone, Papa. I had to fly in from Los Angeles to see you. I was there at a wedding for someone I used to work with. You would have loved the weather there. It was so warm and sunny. Here, it's getting cold already.

"I saw him there. I saw Harry. Remember how I told you we broke up? Well seeing him was the hardest thing I've had to do since we ended things. Papa, I'm heartbroken. I love Harry so much. I'm still completely, hopelessly in love with him. He means the world to me. It doesn't seem possible to love someone as much as I love him. But I guess I have to learn to ignore those feelings. Harry broke up with me. He wanted things to be over. But you can't just turn off feelings for someone.

"Harry hasn't told anyone about our breakup. He hasn't told the media or talked about it at all. It's been two months. And I'm pretty sure he's been sitting on the story so he can release it when it suits his public image. Nothing hurts as bad as the thought of Harry using me like that. It makes me question everything.

"How did you and Gram stay together this long? Did you feel love this strongly when you were first together? Or am I delusional? I wish you would wake up and tell me what to do. Convince me to forgive him or convince me to let him go. You'd say I shouldn't be with someone that broke me so easily, but I know you're hopelessly romantic. Tell me what to do. Tell me the right thing to do." I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his forearm.

I stayed bowed at the hand of my grandfather for several long minutes. I tried to mentally sort our what I should do. I wished for my grandfather to wake up. I wished to know what I should do with Harry. I wished for my feelings to go away. I wished for things to simplify.

I heard the steady beat of footsteps. They were determined and forceful. At first, the sound was quiet and far off, but then slowly intensified as the person came down the corridor. There was something about the footsteps... "If I didn't know better, I would guess those are Saint Laurent boots, Papa," I mumbled with my lips against the back of his hand.