Chapter 37
Say it, Tilly
The next forty-eight hours pass in a blur of tests, questions and uncomfortable naps.
Connor stays in the hospital with me up until the morning of my third and last day there, having charmed the nurses into letting him sleep in the chair next to my bed.
When the doctor tells me I’ll be able to go home after some final tests, Connor leaves me for a few hours to get our luggage from the hotel ready to go home.
He takes longer than I expect, but I don’t have time to overthink it thanks to the constant line of doctors and nurses wanting to see me.
I have blood taken and scans repeated to make sure everything’s okay physically. That’s easy. The tricky bit is convincing the sceptical staff that I fell over the railing and ended up in the sea by accident.
“It’s just… that railing’s quite high, love,” the nurse says gently but with concern behind her eyes. I regret ever accepting her help getting changed.
“As I keep telling everyone,” I sigh, annoyed that I’m having to explain myself yet again, even if they are all right about my story being bullshit, “I was looking at the jellyfish, but I couldn’t see very well, so I climbed up and leaned over. I lost my balance and fell.”
“And you didn’t try to swim because…?” she pries sceptically.
“I was in shock!”
I hold the gown protectively to my chest to stop it falling down and turn back to face the nurse. She looks at me over the top of her glasses, her hands planted on her hips. Clearly, I’m not selling this very well. Deciding it’s useless trying to convince her, I try a more direct approach.
“Thanks for your help. I can manage on my own now.”
Her expression softens to a sympathetic smile, and her hands drop from her hips to rest in the pockets of her scrubs instead.
“But that’s the thing, Matilda. You don’t have to manage on your own.”
“I can handle getting dressed…”
“I’m not talking about getting dressed, and you know it,” she says sternly.
“I’m fine,” I insist as sincerely as I can. “I just really want to get dressed and go home.”
“That’s my cue!”
I turn towards Connor’s voice in time to see him grapple his way through the thin curtain.
Butterflies take flight in my stomach as he finds the gap in the fabric and steps into the cubicle.
Despite him taking up most of the remaining space, I feel like I can breathe better having him near to me again.
When he closes the gap between us and pulls me into his chest, my mind stills for a few precious moments.
Until his hands meet my bare back and I’m suddenly aware of how naked I am under this hospital gown.
“How are you?” he asks quietly, his fingers brushing the skin up and down my spine.
“Fine,” I answer quickly. I step away from him and nearly trip over the bed, barely managing to keep the unfastened gown pressed to my body.
The nurse leaves, muttering something about a prescription, and I reach for the plastic hospital bag on the small cupboard.
“What are you doing?” Connor asks, watching me dump the contents of the bag onto the scratchy bedsheets. The outfit I wore when I was admitted to hospital has been dried but still smells strongly of the sea, and the salt has made the fabric crunchy and stiff, but it’s the only option I have.
“Getting dressed,” I say, stating the obvious. I prod around in the pile of clothes and reluctantly pick up my worn underwear. I turn around to see if there’s a way of getting dressed without Connor seeing me naked, only to find him holding up a paper bag, an amused expression on his face.
“You honestly thought I’d let you go home dressed in that?” He nods towards the clothes on the bed.
I shrug. “It’s a nice enough outfit,” I tease. In truth, it’s just jeans and a checked shirt, nothing special.
“It’s a great outfit,” Connor agrees. “When you first put it on the other morning I remember thinking how sexy you looked in those jeans and how much I wanted to unbutton that shirt.”
I look away from him instinctively, but he gently turns my head back so I’m looking him directly in the eyes.
“But there’s a couple of issues with it,” Connor continues. “For starters, it stinks of seaweed.”
We both laugh and take a step closer towards each other, his fingers tangling further into my hair and my hands forgetting to hold my gown and moving to grip his T-shirt instead.
“But the biggest problem with that outfit is that when I look at it, all I can see is you lying on the beach with your wet hair spread out around you and your blue lips… I already relive that moment every time I close my eyes, Tilly…”
His forehead rests on mine, and I feel a tear fall down my face. I honestly don’t know if it’s one of mine or his, but I wipe it away.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper guiltily. “I don’t know what else to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, and you certainly don’t have to apologise, Til. Come on, let’s get you dressed so we can go home.”
Connor takes a breath and hands me the bag he brought in with him. When I look inside, I find underwear, soft leggings and a simple T-shirt, all of which have the labels still attached. The sweatshirt, however, is a little more rumpled.
“It’s mine,” Connor explains. “I bought a new one, so it’s still fluffy inside, and I wore it around all day so it has that smell you like.”
“You’re perfect.” I smile and take what I hope comes across as a cute sniff of the sweatshirt, and not something creepy. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you.”
Before I manage to turn around to get started, Connor pulls the clothes away from me and holds them high in the air. “Take it back,” he says seriously.
“Take what back?” I’m suddenly very aware that my gown is gaping at the back and the nurse could come back at any time.
“That you don’t deserve me. I’m not having you making self-deprecating comments about yourself anymore, Tilly. So as soon as you say that you deserve to be happy, I’ll give you your clothes back.”
I open my mouth to respond but struggle to find the words. Even lying about being deserving is difficult.
“Say it, Tilly, or you’re making the journey home in the seaweed outfit.”
I narrow my eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. It would fucking kill me to see you in those clothes again, and my car would stink of fish for weeks, but I would do it if it meant you finally starting to believe that you are worth something.”
We stare each other down, and I realise I’ve never seen Connor so serious about anything before. I also really don’t want to travel home smelling of the fish counter at Morrisons, so I swallow my pride and decide to fake it until I make it.
“I… I deserve to be happy.” I force out the words in barely more than a whisper, but it seems to placate Connor enough for him to lower his arm and hand me the clean clothes.
“Yes, you do,” he says sincerely. He leans down and kisses me softly but so deeply I feel his love down to my toes.