Stepping closer, Gemma pulled it down from behind my head. “Tell me what you want moved.”
“Nah. I got it.” I eased the remote from her hand and pressed the large red call button.
“What’s wrong?” Gemma’s voice rose in panic.
A nurse, the same one who wasn’t my biggest fan after the feeding tube removal, walked into the room. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Do you think you could arrange for the hospital chaplain to visit my room?”
“The chaplain?” The nurse’s brows drew down in confusion.
“Yes, we will require their services once our guests arrive.”
“You mean your visitors?”
I gave a dismissive wave of my hand. “Same difference.”
“Sasha, what’s going on?” Gemma hissed.
Capturing her wrist, I shifted my grasp until my thumb rubbed over the diamond of her engagement ring. “We’re getting married, baby.”
“What?!” she shrieked.
The nurse’s eyes volleyed between us for a moment before she broke the silence in the room after I dropped that bomb. “I’ll make a call and pretend I didn’t hear the reason why.” She shot a pointed look at Gemma, whose cheeks pinkened.
“Thanks!” I chirped cheerily.
“No, no, no,” Gemma chanted softly. “We can’t get married today.”
“Hey, come here,” I coaxed gently.
“No.” Her voice grew stronger as she paced the length of the small room. “I get that you’ve been faced with your mortality, but this is crazy!”
“I’m not waiting one more day to make you my wife. I’ve waited long enough.”
“Long enough,” she huffed. “We’ve known each other all of five months. One of which you spent in a coma!”
“Baby, I’d have married you the day I met you. You’re the one.”
Her hands flew to her hair, thrown up into a messy bun, before she glanced down at her clothing. “I’m in yoga pants and haven’t showered in days.”
“And I’m in a hospital gown,” I countered. “Do you think I care?”
Gemma’s eyes darted around the room, searching for an excuse to delay our nuptials. They landed on my face and traveled upward. “Don’t you want to wait until your hair grows back?”
“What?” My hand flew to my head, where, sure enough, my fingers encountered strands barely an inch or two long. “Why?” I looked to her for an explanation.
Wincing, Gemma replied, “They had to cut it to perform the procedure required to relieve the pressure from your brain bleed after the accident. I’m sorry.”
I let myself mull over my new look for a minute before flipping from the negative to the positive, teasing her, “Guess you got your wish. It was time to update my look anyway.”
“Sasha,” she said my name on a sigh. “Let’s just take a minute to think about this.”
“I don’t need a minute. I know what I want.”
She threw her arms up in the air. “Fuck it. Let’s get married. Why the hell not?”
“That’s my girl,” I praised.
