Awake

The fuzzy feeling in his head radiated down his entire body as Rome tried to open his eyes and found it much more difficult to do so than he’d ever experienced in his life. The realization that his arms and legs were heavy, that there were tubes protruding from various body parts, and that there was a steady beeping sound in the darkened room reminded him of what had happened as his eyes finally opened a crack.
“Oh, thank goodness!” His mother’s sobbing voice was not at all what he wanted to hear upon realizing he was still alive, that Henry hadn’t drained the life out of him with his blade. “Rome, darling! How are you?” Mrs. Verona gushed.
He tried to open his mouth but no sound would come out. “Just rest, son,” his father said, somewhere in the shadows at the foot of his bed. “We’ll get the nurse in here to make sure everything is okay.”
“Wh-where’s….” That’s all he managed to get out of his dry, brittle throat. Where was Ella? He remembered, then, that he shouldn’t call her that. If he had asked for her, they might’ve assumed he’d forgotten that she was allegedly dead, but then, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t capable of forming any more words at the moment.
Rome slumped back into thick unconsciousness, his mind foggy as he tried to force himself awake. He felt nurses and other people’s hands on him. Tubes were removed, an oxygen mask slid on. His eyes opened, closed. Sleep claimed him for some unmeasurable amount of time. He’d resurface for a few moments, open his eyes, see his mother’s worried expression, fade away again. How many days had it been? Where was his wife? What had happened with Henry? Did the police know that Juliet was really Ella? Did anyone else know?
Eventually, he was able to open his eyes for more than a few seconds. Sunlight streamed in through open curtains. He thought this might be a different room than the one he’d been in originally. It seemed bigger, but then, he’d only had a glimpse or two of the other space.
“Rome, darling, are you awake?” His mother sat up in her chair next to the bed and grasped his arm.
“Yeah,” he asked, still groggy. At least he was able to speak this time, and there was no tube protruding from his throat.
“Thank God,” she said, clasping her chest with her free hand. “We were so worried about you. How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a truck,” he admitted, barely recognizing his own voice. “Where’s….” He hesitated, not sure what to call her. Where was his wife? Surely, nothing had happened to her. Henry couldn’t possibly have stabbed both of them in a crowded restaurant, could he? He had a distinct memory of her holding him on her lap while he struggled to suck in air, his lungs burning.
“Your father had to go make some business calls,” his mother said, apparently assuming that’s who’d be asking for, of all people.
Rome couldn't care less where his father was. He would’ve preferred neither one of them even bother to show up at the hospital. Before he could clarify, the door opened, and a nurse came in. “Hello, Mr. Verona,” the large, older woman said as she made her way to his bed. “Nice of you to join us.”
Her name tag read, “Cynthia.” He let her check all of his vitals on the machines and then asked, “Is there anyone else waiting to see me?”
Cynthia giggled. “Do you think your girlfriend left without you? She’s in the waiting room. Since she’s not immediate family, we couldn’t let her in without your permission. Your friend, Bart, is out there, too. Occasionally, a couple of very large men join them. I think those might be your bodyguards, huh? Probably feelin’ a little guilty about now. But you’re gonna be just fine, sugar.” She patted him on the arm. “Now, would you like me to let that little lady in?”
Rome looked at his mother, who still had tears in his eyes. “Mom, would you mind if I spoke to Juliet for a while?”
Lacy Verona looked as if she might cry. “Honey, you just woke up! I’ve been sitting here for days!”
“I know, Mom, and she’s been sitting out there just as long. I’ll let you back in shortly, I promise.” He didn’t like hurting his mother’s feelings, but he hadn’t forgotten her actions were part of the reason they were in this position to begin with.
She shook her head and muttered something about being ungrateful under her breath before she stormed out of the room. Rome wanted to feel bad, but he didn’t. “Could you send Juliet in, please?”
Cynthia had a small smile on her face, as if she thought it was funny to see him put his mom in her place. “Course I will, sugar,” she said, heading out the door humming a tune he thought resembled the theme to Love Story.
Less than a minute later, the door flew open, and Ella entered, her face swollen, her eyes red with tears. Rome wanted to sit up, to stand, to catch her in his arms, but he was just barely able to lean forward enough to wrap his arms around her when she reached him. “Thank God,” she whispered. “I’ve been so worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” he assured her, though he wasn’t certain that was truly the case. He didn’t feel fine. He still felt a little fuzzy, and every time he moved, the pain in his back and chest felt like he was being stabbed all over again, though it wasn’t quite as intense as the first time.
She kissed him, and all of the pain melted away. His lips were chapped, his throat dry, his mouth sticky from a lack of water, but having her lips pressed to his was the sort of a relief a man walking through the desert needed in order to quench his thirst.
She sat down in the chair his mother had occupied, not letting go of his hand. “How are you feeling?” she asked. “They said you’d probably be in some pain when you woke up, even though they’ve been giving you pain medicine through your IV.”
“It hurts a little, but I’ll be all right,” he assured her, lifting a hand to brush her hair back over her ear. “How long have I been out?”
“Four days,” she said. He imagined, if he’d asked how many hours, minutes, and seconds, she’d know that, too. At least she wasn’t still wearing the green dress from the evening of the incident, which made him think maybe she’d at least gone home to change clothes. “I haven’t left the hospital.”
That answered that question. He raised an eyebrow. “You must be exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” she lied. “I just needed to make sure you were okay.”
“I am now.” He was certain of that. He felt better. She was here. It was all he could ask for. “Does anyone suspect…?”
“No, I don’t think so. Which is really odd,” she said, shaking her head and then continuing. “The police didn’t ask my name when they took my statement. But none of that really matters now.”
“I agree,” he said, thinking she meant now that he was okay. “I’ll be able to go home soon, hopefully. My parents might think it’s odd that I never told them about you, but they’ll get over it.” The idea of a trial came to mind, but he didn’t want to think about that. “I guess the police will want a statement from me. Where’s Henry?”
Ella stared at him for a moment, swallowed hard, and then said, “Henry’s dead.”
Rome’s eyes bulged, his mouth dropping open. “Wh-what?” He could hardly believe his ears. “What do you mean he’s dead? How…?”
“He killed himself. The night after they arrested him. He realized how much trouble he was in, that there were multiple witnesses that saw him stab you. He wrote a hasty note saying how sorry he was and asking his father to forgive him. Then, he used the bedsheets from his holding cell to make a noose and hung himself.”
Rome didn’t know what to say. He’d heard of inmates doing things like that, but he never would’ve imagined Henry would take his own life.
He understood the pressure of a demanding father who never thought he was good enough, though. If Henry’s father was as hard on him as Rome’s father had always been on his only son, then he could see why Henry felt there was no way out.
The idea that he’d just spent millions of dollars to get out of a contract with a tyrant who was now dead only to get himself stuck in a contract with a different tyrant wasn’t lost on him.
“I guess… that’s a good thing, for us,” he said, not wanting to say it was ever good that someone was dead, but at least they wouldn’t have to endure a trial where Juliet’s true identity might come out.
She nodded, understanding what he meant. “It’s just… surreal, still. I’ve been reading all of the news coverage, and they’ve basically got the story right, that you were defending me from Henry. They say I was trying to break up with him to be with you, and he got angry and stabbed you. That’s close enough to the story we’re trying to sell, anyway.”
Rome nodded in agreement. “It’s all over now, Ella. I’ll make the trade with your dad, the contract for the painting, and then, we can get on with our lives.”
Letting out a deep breath, she agreed. “The sooner that part is done, the better. I just never would’ve dreamt when I came up with this plan that it would end with someone dead.”
Rome thought back to the day he’d decided to go on that boat ride, the day that Mark and Tim had died. “I know what you mean, baby, I do. But it’s over now, and it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault Henry is dead, and it’s not your fault he stabbed me.” He tugged on her hand, and she leaned over so that he could kiss her. “As long as you and I are together, that’s all that matters.”
“We’ll never be apart,” she assured him, pressing her warm lips to his again. Rome closed his eyes and savored the feeling of her. As much as they’d been through, he had to believe she was right, that nothing would ever tear them apart. She had to be--because he knew he wouldn't be able to live without her. Now that she’d come back from the dead, and he’d overcome death, he thought, surely, the worst was over.