Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
He pressed enter and then spent the next five or six hours looking at everything he could from the days he was in the coma and in the intensive care unit to the days after his discharge. The only time he left his computer was to take his meds and eat, both after hearing reminders that sounded from his phone. Grayson dove into the news, enthralled by how much had happened in the time he was asleep.
It wasn’t even a refreshing nap.
The wave of emotions that came over him left him feeling down. He was shocked by what he’d missed, saddened by what he read. It shouldn’t have taken him a year to read the news, but he understood why his therapist had cautioned against doing it.
Grayson closed his laptop when Reid came home. He told her how he’d spent his day. “I think I need to take a walk,” he told her after they ate dinner. “I need some fresh air.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
He thought for a minute and then nodded. Being in her presence calmed him. Kept him grounded. Grayson waited while she changed into her sneakers, and then they made their way outside.
“Let’s walk to the Mall,” he told her. “I want to see where we’re getting married next year.”
Reid beamed. They held hands and traversed their neighborhood until they’d reached the National Mall. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom. The pink canopy of flowers created a beautiful aesthetic. It was easy to see why Reid wanted to be married there.
Grayson did as well.
She didn’t know this, but he had a countdown on his phone to the day she’d become his wife. Asking her to marry him was the best decision of his life, except for when he’d kissed her for the second, third, fourth, and how many other times.
“This is perfect and what I want for our day,” Reid said when they arrived at the Mall. “Look at the ground. The natural beauty of the way the blossoms fall. I can see myself walking down the aisle here.” She beamed up at him, her smile brighter than the North Star.
“It’ll happen,” he told her as he kissed her. “Let me take your picture.”
Reid took a few steps away from him and posed. Every few seconds, she’d change the way she stood, tilt her head, or position her feet. He snapped photos in rapid fire, taking as many as he could, knowing he’d keep every single one because he’d love them all.
When she came forward, he showed her the pictures. Reid frowned at most of them, but he thought they were beautiful.
“I’ll delete those later,” she told him.
“No, I want them.”
She rolled her eyes. “Let’s take a selfie.”
They turned, and Grayson put his arm over her shoulder. She tucked herself into his side, resting her hand over his heart. He extended his arm, raising it high enough to capture not only them but also the scenery behind them. Through the camera, he saw her look at him. He turned and kissed her, praying like hell his thumb snapped the picture.
TWENTY-THREE
GRAYSON
The next week, Grayson sat in the same plush blue chair and recounted the same feelings he’d had the week prior. If anything, the ache in his chest had increased, to the point where he’d cried every day. He couldn’t pinpoint the cause, even though he’d tried. Grayson had started a journal after his last appointment, detailing everything, including the new foods he liked. Things he hadn’t eaten before, like Italian dishes. He’d never liked ricotta, but his mouth watered when he saw commercials for lasagna, and he had ordered ricotta pancakes with brown butter maple syrup and blueberry compote the other day at breakfast. Prior to surgery, he’d loathed fruit on his food, especially when it was warm. Grayson was not a fan of pie, unless it was a pie made of pudding with a graham cracker crust; then all bets were off.
“Did you talk to your doctor about cellular memory?” Dr. Littleton asked.
“I mentioned it, but he says it’s near impossible.”
Dr. Littleton nodded. “Impossible to prove, but not improbable to feel. I think one thing to remember is if the science isn’t there to support and prove, it’s hard to compute. Science needs proof—cold, hard facts—and in a situation like this, it’s almost impossible to achieve. We can’t ask an organ, and if we ask the patient, the answer would be skewed. Some will be like you and say they’ve experienced something, while others will say they haven’t experienced anything. That brings us back to ‘something,’ which could easily mean one thing to you and be somewhat different to another.”
“This is complicated,” Grayson said. “And hard for me to describe.” He placed his fist over his heart and shook his head. “This is different, and while I know the heart—my heart—isn’t the one I was born with, it feels like mine, and yet I’m reminded almost daily now that it’s not.” Grayson sighed. “I feel like my heart is broken, and I can’t figure out why.”