Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

with the other. I didn’t know what I’d say or what Theo would say or how the next few months would go or how arduous of a journey it would be, but once I grabbed his hand, I had no intention of letting go of it until he was ready.

The sharp squeak of my shoes against the floor fought for attention with the hospital’s daily grind and alerted Theo to my presence. A slow smile stretched across his tired face, and he waved his fingers, urging me to go forward. Slipping onto the seat of my chair, I threaded my hand with his and squeezed. His hand had felt so cold for so long, the sudden warmth against my palm surprised me. For a moment, I couldn’t speak, and I sat there, watching Theo as he watched me. Once I’d composed myself a little, I dared to speak.

“How’re you doing?”

“I’ve been better. But I can’t complain. Though a sip of water would be good.”

A cup sat on the table next to his bed, and I held the straw to his lips. “Here. It’s good to see you awake.”

He swallowed. “Is it?”

I understood what he was asking. Leaning in, I brushed my lips against his forehead. “It is. We’re going to figure this out, and yes, I’m glad you’re back.”

While the nurses and doctors took over for the next few hours and swept me to the side, I texted Andrew, my mom, Kate, and Jackie and told them the news. That day, as I sat in the hospital room and Theo’s face flushed with color we hadn’t seen in a long time, peace, contentment, even hope, stirred within me. The road would be long, and we’d have bumps, all of us. But we’d figure out our way around them, together.

A fortnight passed before he was able to leave the hospital, and during that time, our friends and family worked as a team, despite the cold weather, to help Theo, to help us. Jackie and Pete, Kate, my mom, coworkers of Theo’s, even Andrew, drew up and executed plans so that from the moment Theo stepped foot out of the hospital, life would run more smoothly.

A two-bedroom house had been rented three streets over from ours. The group had arranged for furniture and appliances, and the kitchen had been fully stocked with everything Theo might need. They’d also included a computer system, for when Theo returned to his full-time work as a web developer, as well as toys, books, and beds for the kids. Upon hearing the details, Theo smiled. “I don’t exactly know what to say,” he muttered.

I didn’t have a reply.

But with all the buzz about Theo and his recovery, I may have pushed Andrew to the side, and I wasn’t exactly sure where we stood. Our texts still connected us and meant something significant, at least on my end, and several of our exchanges contained more heat than I’d remembered. But I hadn’t spoken to him specifically about our future, about us, about our expectations. I had to speak to him in person—not between furniture shopping or painting shifts—and owed him that much, at the minimum. After a quick phone call, he said he’d meet me in the hospital courtyard after work the evening before Theo was due to be released. The somewhat neutral setting he chose worried me.

When Andrew approached, a tight anxiety seized my soul, and I stood from the wrought iron bench. We’d known each other long enough to recognize certain tells, and his smile, normally wide and round, twitched at the corners, a true sign indicating unease. And when he wrapped his arms around me and pressed his lips to my forehead in a comforting gesture I knew so well, my unease skyrocketed.

He stepped back and gestured for me to sit once again. “Sadie, I’m happy for you, for Theo...really.”

“Really?”

He nodded his head and paused before he spoke. “It seems so odd to be having this conversation. Here and now. I’ve had a lot of time to think over these last few weeks. Even with this...this thing between us...you still loved Theo.”

“You thought that?”

“Yes.” His breath came out in a puff of icy air. “I didn’t want to admit it.”

“Oh.” The zipper of my parka held my interest, as looking at Andrew was difficult.

“And if I were in the same situation, with a person who needed me and years of love behind us, I’d fight for my marriage too.” Andrew extended his hand to my shoulder and squeezed it. The gesture could have imparted concern for a friend and nothing more.

I cocked my head and looked at him, at his eyes, at his soul. I wanted him, plain and simple. Yes, I still loved Theo, and yes, I’d fight for him to some degree—his health and happiness were important to me—but I was ready. I’d made my decision. I wanted a future with Andrew. Did he not understand?

“We should have had this conversation before now,” I said.

“Yes.” Andrew shrugged. “But I was being selfish. I’ve enjoyed every moment of being with you. You made me feel more alive than I have in a long time.” He quirked his lips, and his hand fell to his lap.

“I...I can say the same.” A heat spread through my chest, and I looked around the courtyard. In the spring, the space would be overrun with every type of flower imaginable, and the birds would flit in the flowing fountain. But now, the harshness of winter’s reign belied the life that had just come back to me.

“Then maybe that day at Bloom Market was supposed to happen, and we can both walk away from each other as better people.” Andrew’s flushed face and tentative smile contrasted with the muted gray tones of the evening.

“That’s a rosy way of looking at the world.” A tear sprang to the corner of my eyelid, but I willed it away. It was clear he was confused, unable to understand exactly how I felt.

“Yep, but