27

MY HEART IS BEATING SO hard it feels like it’s ready to leap out of my chest. Thank goodness I don’t have one of those bleeping monitors attached to me. Mick does, so I can tell he’s not as nervous as I am.

“Hi,” I say, more eloquent words failing me at the moment. “Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” I want to touch my hair again to try and gauge how awful it is, but I don’t dare call his attention to it. Instead, I take a piece of my sheet and start folding it into a tiny accordion. Keeping my fingers busy takes my mind off the mess I’ve made of my life recently.

“Lighter,” he says.

I pause in my folding and look over at him. “You feel lighter?” “Yeah. Seems like I left an organ behind in the operating room.”

I smile a little. He’s making jokes. That has to be a good sign, right? “Does it hurt?” I ask. Guilt. Oh, the guilt!

“Not as much as the car ride over did. I’ve got good drugs right now.” His words come out sounding tired, maybe a little bit slurred.

“Sorry about that,” I say, my face