She elbows me in the ribs. "It's not that bad. I eat it all the time."

"I can't tonight," I say honestly. "I'm starting back at the pub. I need to be there by nine."

"We can do dinner another night then."

I look down at my smartphone again. I had texted Dane to ask if he could call me. That was more than two hours ago. I know that he told me when his schedule changes this week, but I hadn't paid attention mainly because I was drifting into a dream at the time.

I could have waited until tomorrow to come to see Cleo to bring her the portrait, but after considering what Zoe said, I don't want to miss my window of opportunity. My plan is simple. I hand her the portrait, tell her that I saw her in the hallway and I leave with no mention of Dane.

"You remember her room number?"

"It's 2049." It became etched forever in my memory after I'd glanced at the card so many times. Cleo is my first link to Dane's life beyond his cousin, Garrett. She's his friend, or was at one time. She's also the sister of the woman he once loved. I want her to have the portrait. It belongs to her.

"If it's too hard, come find me." She wraps her arms around my shoulders so tightly that the stethoscope hanging around her neck pushes into my chest. "Send me a text and I'll come up to the second floor."

I hug her back.  This might be the biggest mistake of my life or it may be a kind gesture that Dane and I will think back on when we're reminiscing about our past. It doesn't matter at this point. I'm here now and I'm not leaving until the framed portrait in my hand is nestled securely in Cleo's grasp.

***

"Excuse me."

The voice is softly feminine. It's also behind me just as I'm about to walk into Cleo's room. I'd peered through the rectangular window in the door but the only thing I could see was a light blue curtain drawn around a hospital bed. There's a wheelchair near the foot of the bed so I can only assume that I'm not too late.

I ignore the voice when I realize that she's likely talking to one of the many other people who are walking through this corridor. I've passed at least two doctors and half a dozen nurses since I exited the elevator on this floor. It's the maternity wing of the hospital which means most of the people who work here are less frantic and rushed than those who work in the ER with Vanessa.

I place my fingers around the handle as I hold tightly to the portrait that I'm cradling against my chest.

"Wait." Her voice is louder now. "You're Bridget."

She's talking to me. I push through my memories for any familiarities in the voice but there's nothing. She must have seen my picture in the newspaper or online after the accident. I've learned, since that night, that some people are morbidly curious about those who are struck by bad luck.

Since I'm intent on getting into Cleo's room without this woman in tow, I need to ditch her now. I turn quickly and the moment I do I'm struck by how attractive she is. She's tall, dark haired and even though her face is bare from make-up and her eyes rimmed with glasses, her natural beauty is still there.

"I'm Bridget." I reach out my free hand towards her.

"I know." She scoops my palm into her right hand, before covering it with the left. "I'm Maisy Trimble."

Chapter 19

"This is Cleo."  The frame balances on her knees as she runs her hand over the glass. "You drew this?"

I nod. Since we'd exchanged pleasantries outside of Cleo's hospital room, Maisy had asked me to join her in the family lounge. It's a quiet space, tucked into a corner beyond the patients' rooms. Her sister had fallen asleep, she told me. It wasn't a good time to visit.

"I saw her and her husband at the museum one day," I offer as I reach to touch the edge of the frame. "I didn't know who she was then."

"Was this before you met Dane?"

She says his name with such effortless ease that it catches me off guard. There's no anger or resentment woven into the question.

"It was before then," I answer quietly. "I didn't know who she was until a few days ago."

"I wasn't talking to her then." Her hand skirts across the glass. "She's beaming in this. Did she know that you drew this?"

"Yes." I work to contain my emotions. "She called me over and we talked."

Her lips curve into a bright smile as she looks up and at me. "What did you talk about?"

I pull back slightly, wanting to gain some distance. I'm still emotionally stuck back in the corridor when I realized who she was. I've been staring at her since we sat down. She looks softer in person than she does in the online profile picture Dane showed me.

"She talked about getting married, and going on a honeymoon."

She studies me. "It's ironic, isn't it?"

Lifting my head I look across the empty room. "What's ironic?"

"That we're sitting here together."

It's not so much ironic as it's wildly uncomfortable. She may not have come right out and told me directly that she knows I'm dating her ex-boyfriend, but the knowledge of it is there. I have no idea who told her. It may have been Dane. Perhaps it was his mother or his brother. It doesn't matter at this point. What does matter is that I'm sitting next to a woman that Dane loved enough to live with. There has to be something about her that struck a deep chord within him.

"The world is a small place." I reach for the edge of the portrait. "It was inevitable that we'd meet at some point."

"Inevitable?" She glides the frame back into my lap. "Why would you say that?"

"We both loved the same man," I say it quietly. "You loved him. I love him now."

The silence that fills the room is finally broken by the sound of a man's voice from the corridor. "Bridget, I need you. Come with me, now."

***

I've never sat in a chapel in a hospital before. It's a place that I've always felt was reserved for those who lost a loved one or those who craved the comfort that they found in whispering their prayers of hoped healing to a spirit they believed in.

I'm sitting next to Dane now and as he crushes my fingers within his clasped palm, I feel the weight of a loss on his shoulders. He hasn't told me what brought us here. We didn't talk as he guided me down the corridor with his hand around my waist.

I'd left the portrait of Cleo with Maisy. Her presence outside the door of her sister's room made it clear that whatever strife may have pulled them apart was gone now. Maisy had been there for hours. I could see it in her face and by the wrinkled clothing on her back. She had come there for her sister and when I walked away, I knew that if Cleo had found it in her heart to forgive Maisy, forgiveness for Dane must be there too.

"What happened?" I pause. "Do you want to talk about it or do you just want to sit?"

He lowers his head just enough that his lips are out of my view. "People think I'm selfish."

They're not the words that any woman wants to hear when she just met the ex-girlfriend of the man she adores. I didn't consider the fact that Dane may have spent the past few hours in this hospital, engaged in a conversation with Maisy.

Maybe she stumbled on me first as she headed back to her sister's room and Dane was close behind. Perhaps that's why he pulled me from that room so he could break my heart here, where people come to seek solace in their grief.

"You're not selfish." I try to derail his train of thought. I know it's foolish and only a temporary reprieve from whatever he's about to tell me but I don't want this to end. I love him and if he walks away from me before I've had a chance to tell him, I will regret it until I take my last breath.