A call wakes me up early the next morning.
"Mmm?" I can't form words this early.
"Your plane will be ready in an hour. I've got your stuff ready, except what you'll need this morning."
"You're the best, Karen."
"It's just the two of you, right?"
"Mmm hmm."
"Okay. Get ready and I'll have your car here shortly."
"Thank you."
"You going to tell me what's going on or...?"
"Nope."
"Alright then. Call me when you get on the plane, please."
"I will."
"And I'm having another phone sent to your house. I'll have all your contacts in it first."
"Yeah I should probably have that."
"You should. I'll wrap up here and be back in Los Angeles soon. Have a safe trip."
"Thank you. Bye, Karen." I hang up, still groggy. Lindsey stirs beside me, and I look over in time to see his eyes flutter open. "Morning," I say, offering him a smile.
"Hey, beautiful."
"Our car will be here shortly. Karen got a plane for us."
"Private?" I give him a look and he rolls his eyes. "Not all of us spend like you do, Stevie."
"Well, I'd rather not put you in a tube for 12 hours with a bunch of people that can infect you right before heart surgery, Lindsey. Also, do you really feel like being surrounded by people today?"
"Fair enough." He sits up and I realize he stripped to his underwear at some point last night. He's thinner, but he still looks strong. He always looks strong. The man has worked out since he was a child. I was never as active as him. He notices me staring at him and gives me a smile. "Still can't keep your eyes off me, huh?"
"Oh, shut up," I say, blushing a little because it's true.
"It's fine, Stevie. I still stare at you too."
I shake my head, closing my eyes for a second. "We don't have long. Karen got most of my things together. I'll just need a minute to change," I say, hurrying into the bathroom to recover. True to her word, Karen has a dress, some boots, my make up and some other essentials on the counter. I dress quickly and rinse my face, trying to get myself together. I have to hurry, but I take a few extra minutes to collect myself. I've never been very good at these situations.
"Stevie? The bellman is bringing your things down. You ready?"
"I'm coming," I say, throwing the stuff on the counter into a bag quickly. I rush out and see him waiting by the door, his bag on his shoulder. I look at him for a second, and he pushed the door open.
"After you."
I half smile and nod my thank you before heading out into the hallway. Security escorts us out to the car, where we brush past a couple bystanders. "Do you feel sick?"
"Usually just tired," he answers, slipping his fingers through mine and turning to watch the streets of London whizz by out the window. It's raining, of course, but the morning bustle of the city is still fascinaing. It's basically the opposite of Los Angeles.
"When is your surgery?"
"On Wednesday." I nod my acknowledgement, stroking his hand absently with my thumb. I have no idea what else to say, so we ride out to Heathrow in silence.
The silence is comfortable, so I don't struggle for words. We are escorted onto our plane, and I let him lay his head in my lap once we're settled. He's on his back, looking up at me with those damn eyes, and I let myself stare at him again. My fingers find their way into his curls, and my heart starts to pound a little when he closes his eyes, letting out a content sigh. I lean down and kiss his forehead, holding his hand with my right one, tangling my left in his curls. "I need you to be okay, Linds."
"I will be. You're here now."
"I don't know what you think I can do. Kristen isn't going to let me anywhere near you."
"Kristen will not be there."
"I'm sorry? Your wife won't be there?"
"She's in Maui with the kids."
"And she isn't coming back for your surgery?" I'm trying not to respond irrationally. Surely I'm missing something.
"She is not. She decided she couldn't handle it. So she went on vacation."
"That is the biggest load of shit I've ever heard. What the hell is wrong with her?" I don't have much use for Kristen anyway, but this is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard in my life. What kind of wife bails when her husband is ill? He senses my fury, sitting up and stroking my hair.
"She's not good in these situations anyway. It's just as well," he says, pushing my hair over my shoulder.
"She should be with you."
"I've got you. It's going to be fine." He sounds so confident. I lean forward so our foreheads are touching, and he puts his hands on my face. "I love you, Stevie."
