purple hat, a cane, full makeup, and a bag of bread. She was there every day feeding the birds, even in a torrential downpour, and then one day she was just . . . gone.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.” My throat felt thick. “But I noticed. And I bet other people noticed too, because she was the sort of person you took notice of. And I couldn’t help but wonder, after a few weeks of her absence, why it bothered me so much.”
She leaned in. “Why did it? She was a stranger.”
My smile was sad as I looked away. “Because it made me wonder if I possessed enough redeeming qualities for anyone to miss me. They’d miss the money, the lavish parties, they’d miss the attention—but would they miss me? And then”—I stood and grabbed my plate—“the worst happened, I almost died, and I woke to find out that the world not only couldn’t care less about my absence, but it was better without me in it. My brother was better at my job, and it took exactly four weeks for my fiancée of three years to fall in love with him. The world, it seemed, didn’t need Julian Tennyson, and I’ve been struggling with that truth ever since.” I put my dishes in the sink and gave a defeated smile. “I, um, I’m going to head to bed.”
Keaton quickly stood and made her way over to me. Without speaking, she pulled me into her arms and hugged me, then whispered against my chest, “You’re wrong.”
Chapter Seventeen
KEATON
“No. I will not go out with you,” I said for the thirty-second time as Noah followed me down the hall, a long-stem red rose between his teeth. I stopped at the nurses’ station and sighed. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”
The rose made its way to about an inch from my face. The insane patient was dangling it like a carrot. This was the third week I had been forced to put up with him.
I gritted my teeth and turned just as he moved to his knees and said, “The cancer hasn’t killed me yet, but you just might if you say no . . .”
I hid my smile behind my hand and shook my head. “You’re relentless.”
“I’m in love.”
“Oh, dear God.” I burst out laughing. “You don’t know me! I’ve been here twice.”
“Three times,” he corrected, his sandy-brown hair falling across his forehead. He was adorable even though I refused to admit it out loud. “The first time was when—”
“We don’t need to rehash the burrito incident.”
“Our hands grazed each other, and you know you did it on purpose.”
“Are you fifteen?”
“Twenty-six.” He grinned wider, his white, straight teeth almost blinding. “If you don’t say yes, I might start singing . . .” Behind me, the nurses groaned. “Hey, I have a wonderful voice!”
“Wear earplugs,” a nurse piped up. “Or just say yes and save us all from putting them in.”
I shook my head. “One date. That’s it.”
He stood and held out his hand. “Well, let’s go, time’s wasting.”
“Now?” I panicked and looked around me.
He pulled me down the hall. “Time’s wasting, K. This is called living. Why don’t we try together?”
Great, he already had a nickname for me. “Living?”
“Spontaneous living, because the clock stops for no one, and I like you. You have a beautiful smile and a big heart. And I know you like me even though you keep rolling your eyes. I’ll win you over. I’m told I’m very persuasive.”
“Or annoying,” I offered.
He squeezed my hand and stopped, then turned to face me. I hadn’t realized until that moment how tall he was, or how good-looking, maybe because I didn’t want to acknowledge any of it. I was horrible at dating, and he was a patient at the hospital.
“Life is meant to be celebrated, Keats, annoying cancer patient and all.” He winked and then twirled me and dipped me in the middle of the hallway. His lips pressed onto my neck like they’d been there a million times. The kiss was light, it was perfect. And it was the first time I felt that feeling you get when you’re with your person, the person you were destined to be with.
I was his.
And in that moment, he knew it.
“I have Twinkies and a chessboard.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “But don’t tell my nurses. Apparently multiple Twinkies are frowned upon.”
“Multiple? How many do you eat?”
“In a day?” He seemed amused. “Only ten, maybe twelve if I’m feeling fancy. Come on, let’s go, time’s wasting.