Callum, I love you more than you could possibly know.

"Oh, God!" I bellowed, crushing the note to my chest. She hadn't thought she was going to make it.

I cried myself to sleep on that sofa, my face buried in her dress so I could inhale her scent.

"Mr. Tate?" I heard. Someone was shaking me awake.

I shot up. "Yes?"

"I'm Doctor Sullivan. I'm sorry to wake you but I thought you should know that your wife's vitals have crashed and they're working to revive her. I..." But I wouldn't let him finish.

I pushed the man away from me and sprinted for the ICU doors but they wouldn't budge. They needed to be opened by the ICU operating desk.

"Open these doors!" I yelled to the nurse manning the desk. "Right now!" I bellowed when she shook her head. "That's my wife in there!" I screamed, punching the glass with my palms.

I heard a slight buzz and the door clicked open. I ran to a room filled with people. I knew this was hers. I forced my way through the line of waiting nurses, working my way around the physicians attempting to revive her. I stood at the head of her bed and bent toward her ear. I ignored how beaten and bruised she was.

"Harper," I whispered, my voice catching in my throat. "Sweetheart, please. Please, Harper, stay here with me. Our life has yet to begin, Harper. You belong with me here. Stay, love."

I watched them shock her heart multiple times but it refused to beat. The room moved slowly around me, people yelling, tugging at Harper, reading machines. Nurses, stoic in this very experience, yet looking on me with pity. I couldn't stand looking at them. I wanted to tug Harper from all the wires and drag her back to New York. I wanted to pretend they weren't working to bring her back to life. I wanted to pretend none of this happened and that John Bell, that bastard, didn't exist.

Two men forced me away from Harper saying something about the paddles but I didn't catch all of it. All I could do was stare at my beautiful wife and think that this was not how it was supposed to be. I stared at her thin frame, her long copper gold hair, dull, her tan skin, pale, her usual pink, full lips turned blue and thin. Get up, Harper. Get up, baby. Give me the life we both deserve, Harper. Screw what we used to be. Screw the shit our lives used to be as children. Let's make our own way, Harper.

"Wake up, Harper," I began softly. "Wake up, Harper!" I said a bit louder. "Wake up!" I screamed at her finally, fighting the men holding me back. "Wake up!" Tears streamed down my face. My hands dug into the shoulders of the men pinning me against the windows. "Please," I tenderly requested. I closed my eyes. "God, I'm begging you," I prayed softly. "Please, God, don't take her from me yet. I've had enough tragedy in my life. I need something to keep me from taking the tumble over the edge. I don't think I can live without her."

Seemingly out of nowhere, a nurse came from the line and placed her hand on my shoulder, silently praying along with me. The men looked from one to the other and relaxed their hold on me, praying with me as well. Soon, the entire room was filled with prayer, including the physicians working to revive her. I even noticed, family members visiting their own loved ones drifted to the large glass windows that was Harper's room and folded their hands.

They worked for what seemed like forever but a calm entered the room and they worked methodically, no more panic in their motions. They worked with an efficiency I'd never seen before but nothing was happening. Her body laid limp on her bed, her chest still without breath. I continually prayed but was losing hope, my stomach clenched in nausea. I was preparing myself for the worst and contemplated how I could possibly bury another family member. I wondered how in the world I could place the love of my life in cold, hard dirt. That's when I knew. I knew I couldn't do it, I would only throw myself in the hole with her. I clenched my teeth and fisted my hands, pressing my eyes closed. She had to stay with me. Had to.

Suddenly, Harper gasped and my tears turned to wracking sobs. "Thank you," I told God. "Thank you," I told the doctors and nurses quietly. The nurse who placed her hand on my shoulder, squeezed it and left the room, letting the doctor stabilize my wife.

Unnecessary staff left the room, but there was an eerily quiet blanket that descended on every person inside the ICU, realizing the miracle that was their prayers. A breathing tube was placed, and eventually she was stabilized enough that the ICU staff could leave me alone with her. I pulled a rolling stool over to her side and held her hand. She wasn't conscious but it didn't matter to me. She was alive.

I breathed deeply, my body exhausted from the fear. "God, Harper, He gave you back to me." I gripped that hand with both of mine then. I rubbed the back of her swollen hand with my thumbs, making lazy circles over her pale skin. "He gave you back."

I was astonished, to be honest. I reached my hand up, sliding it over her gown, and placing my trembling hand over her chest to feel her heart beat. 'Thump, thump, thump', it told me, steady and strong. I buried my chin into my chest and reveled in the miracle that was Harper's beating heart. I released a pent up breath and sat up straight, leaning over her face and tracing her hair line with my fingers.

"I love you," I told her, "so much."

Over the week, Harper healed at an astonishing rate, according to her physicians. She was still in a medically induced coma because of some swelling in her brain but was expected be woken soon and moved to a regular room once she was breathing on her own since her back was healing so remarkably well and the swelling was completely eradicated.

The nurses were incredibly helpful to me, not making a big deal about leaving Harper's side. Essentially, I refused to leave her but Ames convinced me that I should probably shower because, and I quote, I would 'scare the shit out of Harper' if she woke and found me days without a shower and a full beard. I still refused to leave the hospital but thanks to Ames and the kind nurses. I was able to shower in one of the hospital rooms and had a change of clean clothes. Ames even brought me my meals on break from work and visited me for hours each night.

Five days after Christmas, the physicians decided it was time to wean Harper off the barbiturates keeping her comatose. When I knew she would be waking, I made a long list and sent Ames to a local department store to get all the things I thought she would want and a few things I just wanted her to have.

"Okay," Doctor Sullivan said, to me outside Harper's room. "I've taken her off the drugs."

"And how long before she wakes?" I asked, my tired arms wrapped around my chest.

"It's up to her," he told me with a smile, "but if she was a smart girl," he teased, "she'd wake so you'll get off my back."

I laughed. Doctor Sullivan and I had an understanding. He made jokes and I laughed so I didn't lose my mind.

"Seriously, within a few hours is usual. We'll be transferring her to the third floor within the hour. Chelsea will let you know what room. I'll see you in a bit."

"Thanks Dr. Sullivan."

"Of course."

As Doctor Sullivan walked away, my cell rang. "Hello?"

"Hey, Callum."

Cherry.

"Hey, Cherry."

"What's the progress?" She asked for the sixth time that day. I loved her all the more because she was so concerned. Cherry and Charlie were still in England but kept tabs on Harper throughout the day. It was three a.m. there but Cherry said she didn't mind setting her alarm to catch wind of any progress.

"She's been taken off the drugs that's keeping her comatose. It's up to her now when she'll wake."

"Oh, thank God," Cherry sighed into the phone. "And you'll..."

"Yes, Cherry, I will call you the second she wakes." I laughed.

"Good." She yawned. "Alright, buttercup. Catch you on the flip."

"Bye, Cherry."

Chelsea, an ICU nurse who helped make my life easier, came bounding up to me as I slid my phone in my back pocket. "Three oh-seven," she said, smiling.

"Excellent! Thanks, Chelsea!"

"No problem," she said, sliding by me to enter the room next to Harper's.

Chapter Twenty.

Young Blood Harper I woke to the sound of his voice. His voice. "...No, not yet," he said. Pause. He was on the phone. "Because it takes time, Cherry. She'll wake when she's good and ready." He sighed. "I know, I know. You'll be the first we call. Okay. Alright, I love you, too. Send our love to Charlie. Bye, Cherry."

My eyes were heavy as well as my arms. All I wanted was to lift my sluggish lids to look at his beautiful face. I felt trapped inside my body. I inhaled deeply, catching the soothing scent that was Callum's cologne.

I could hear him slide a chair over the floor toward me, toward the bed I was in. When he took my hand in his, small, salty tears cascaded down my cheeks. His breath caught.

"Ha-Harper? Are you- Are you there?" I tried to squeeze his hand but lacked the control. "Can you hear me, Harper?" He asked, coming close to my face. The warmth of his body radiated over me and the tears came faster. "Oh, love, listen, you were hurt." John. My heart rate accelerated. "But I'm here..." My eyes fluttered open to a dim room. Night. Callum took in a sharp breath. "Harper," he said softly, caressing my face with his hands. I watched him and tried to smile. "Oh my God, Harper." Tears began to fall softly down his own face. "You're here. You're really here." He tenderly cupped both his hands over my face. "Harper." He broke down, making my insides twist in agony. I squeezed my lids shut, flushing out fat drops of my own tears.

"I got your note," I gritted out.

"I love you," he told me, looking straight into my eyes. A small smile played across my lips. "I love you. I'm in love with you."

"I love you too," I told him, my voice raspy from disuse. "I've always loved you," I continued, clearing my throat. "You're the love of my life, Callum."

He laughed lightly, coughing to avoid a sob. A massive smile splayed across his gorgeous face. "I think I've waited my entire life to hear those words from you, Harper Tate."

It took me eight weeks to leave that hospital. By the time, I was done, I knew every single person employed there, as did Callum. It was bittersweet leaving but it was most definitely time.

The good news was that I regained control and feeling in my legs which was nothing short of a miracle according to Doctor Sullivan. I'd need extended physical therapy back home but I was healed well enough to travel which is what I wanted more than anything. I just wanted to be home, in my own bed...with my husband.

I could walk short distances only, forced to utilize a wheel chair for any kind of extensive trips. Callum would cart me around like a doll, lifting me into bed, even helping me bathe which was somewhat embarrassing the first time but the nurses would have thought it strange that my husband wouldn't eventually be the one who assisted me. The first few times, the nurses did it but they told us he needed to learn how to care for me once we left the hospital and insisted he try. Who were we to argue?

The first time he saw me naked was...strange. Gorgeously strange.

"Lean on me," he had whispered into my ear, making me shiver. I stood on my feet but he held me tightly against him. He had begun to close his eyes but I stopped him with a hand.

"I want you to see me," I told him quietly, making his eyes shoot wide. I almost laughed but checked myself.

He gulped audibly. "Uh, okay." Trembling hands came toward me and undressed me slowly, being careful not to jostle me too much, when he pulled my top off. My heart began to race inside my chest, pounding against my ribs at an unhealthy rate. If I'd been hooked into any of the machines sitting inside my room, five nurses would've come bounding through the door. I smiled shyly.

Piece by piece, my clothing laid in a pile by my feet and eventually, I stood completely bare, accept for a pair of panties, against him. We both breathed in pants. Callum would see me naked. Callum and naked...in the same sentence. He still had yet to look at me and wrapped me in a towel before he could get a good look. He laid another towel on one of the shower chairs and picked me up, tucking his hands behind my knees. I felt my breath whoosh from my lungs. This was it. Until he sat me there while he filled my bath. I felt my cheeks redden and my feelings were sort of hurt that he didn't want to see me. A heat crept up my neck and into my face, ashamed that I couldn't tempt him the way he tempted me.

I had been healing for weeks and all my bruises had disappeared, use of my broken fingers restored. I looked completely normal from the outside, the only thing that ailed me was some soreness in my back and a definite lack of strength but that wasn't visible to the naked eye. I had just given him permission to look at me naked and he didn't freaking do it. I was feeling so vulnerable and open it was almost excruciating. Tears began to make an appearance but I bit my bottom lip to prevent them from spilling over.

I watched his broad back as the running water captivated his attention. I bent slightly to the side to see what was so interesting about this seemingly so amazing water. I was offended. Callum's back rose and feel deeply with each breath. He's nervous, I realized. His hands made tight fists, then released, over and over and over. Signature, Callum. I sat back and enjoyed the fact that I made my husband nervous. It was flattering.

Once the bath was filled, there was nowhere else for Callum to go. Slowly, he turned my direction and began to undress himself making me tremble a little on my own. All my fears and insecurities dissipated in one swift motion as he shrugged off his button up shirt and pulled his t-shirt over his head.

"Um," I said, suddenly nervous myself. "Are you, uh, going to fill the bath with soap?"

"No," he said softly, deliberately taking his time with the buttons of his jeans. Massive pause. "I won't be able to see you very well if the foam is in my way, will I?" He asked, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

My throat closed. I could only nod my response.

He was breathtaking, literally, the lines of his stomach and chest were hard and conditioned like a toned athlete. He was lean and absolutely the most handsome man I had ever seen in my entire life. I loved the way his hair curled around his ears and the way his eyes sparkled in the subtle lighting above him. The heat that had crept up my face before turned into a delicious, warm blush and I couldn't stop my hand from flying to my chest as I inhaled deeply. A small, smug smile fought to make an appearance on his lips. Never taking his eyes from mine, he pulled his jeans off his legs and stood in his boxers. This is the most I'd ever seen of Callum's naked skin. I shivered, actually shivered like some romance novel harlot.

Callum walked to me, both our hands quaked but the instant they met, all nervousness disappeared and we held firmly onto the other. He helped me to my feet and I balanced in front of him. Slowly, I removed my towel, letting it pile onto the floor at my feet. I blushed furiously at his own sharp intake of breath.

His head shook lazily from side to side as if in disbelief but his hands fisted at his side, betraying his easy look. Another gulp. "Lord, Harper. You are beautiful." Callum paused while his eyes roamed my entire body, making me blush an even deeper red. "My God was it worth the wait," he barely murmured under his breath.

He stepped closer to me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders being careful not to squeeze too hard.

And then he kissed me. Deeply.

His tongue found mine and I almost melted in a pool at his feet. He broke away too soon and I felt slightly abandoned but he quickly remedied this by finding the underside of my jaw with his lips, moving up to the side of my neck and across my chin, meeting up once again with my mouth. I wrapped my hands around his neck, running my fingers through his disheveled hair, tugging lightly at the base of his neck, inciting a groan and even deeper kiss. The kiss slowed and he finished with three pecks on my lips.

"Come on," he said, winded, "before the water gets cold."

He knelt at my feet. I held my breath as he stared into my eyes, sliding my panties to my ankles. I stepped from my underwear and he stood as his boxers came off. He picked me up, sliding us both into the water. He nestled my back against his chest and I fit perfectly inside his arms. The water was the perfect temperature and I sighed from the proximity of our bodies. I closed my eyes as Callum wet my hair and began to massage shampoo into my scalp, eventually finding the tips of my hair with the soapy lather. He conditioned and lathered my entire body, washing me from head to toe.

When he was done, I sighed, content with being relaxed and clean against him. The bath wasn't large enough for me to shave my legs with my back against his chest but he wouldn't let me bend to do it myself anyway, opting to set me on the sink counter later and do it himself over the sink, he told me. He got out himself and wrapped a towel around his waist before hooking his arms around my body and lifting me from the water. He wrapped yet another towel around my torso and took another to my hair, languidly drying it from root to tip. We watched each other quietly as he worked the cloth through my long hair, leaning down occasionally to kiss my lips.

"You drive me crazy," he almost gasped.

I kissed him yet again before leaning into his ear. "Do something about it."

He closed his eyes and exhaled from his nose, waiting a moment before opening them and staring straight through me. "Harper, we can't right now." His jaw clenched at his words.

"I know," I said smoothly, "but soon, Callum. Soon."

"Oh, very soon, Mrs. Tate."

Gorgeously strange, indeed.

The flight home was rather difficult. I made sure not to drink anything during the flight so Callum wouldn't be forced to help me use the restroom. I could have probably walked the short distance to the lavatory but I knew Callum wouldn't let me without him. Not to mention, I had a new aversion to all airplane lavatories. God forbid, Callum and I ever venture out of country. The flights would be torturous.

Turns out, Callum is a nervous flier. That, coupled with the fact that I wasn't exactly in 'fighting' condition, and Callum was a giant bundle of nerves, didn't help his unease.

"You need a drink, Callum. Something strong," I jested, prodding my shoulder with his, adding a tiny smile.

"Nothing short of moonshine would take the edge off of me right now," he teased. Callum turned to me, running a crooked finger down my jaw line. "I want you, Harper."

My breath sped and my heart beat pushed the boundaries of normal, threatening to rip itself from my chest. I inhaled slowly, closing my eyes. I opened them. "You can't say things like that on a crowded flight, Callum."

"Why not?" He asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I took in the people around us. "Because these people seem nice enough and I wouldn't want to traumatize that little kid staring at us three rows down."

Callum peeked down the aisle in the direction of the little girl before turning back to me. "We wouldn't want to do that now, would we," he said, leaning closely to my face, his lips inches from mine.

I was forced to swallow. "Nuh uh," I said, leaning closer to close the gap. His breath tickled my face and I sighed in exasperation when he put, what felt like, way too much distance between him and myself. "What a tease," I said, wrapping my right hand around his neck then letting go for fear I'd do something drastic.

Callum and I made out in the back seat of the cab we took home from the airport like a couple of sex-crazed teenagers. I had forgotten there was a person even driving the cab but when we pulled in front of our building, my face flushed a brilliant red when the cabbie winked at me while placing our bags on the curb. What, ya' perv? We're married. And before you go all, eww, on me, know that I hate PDA, hate it, but you know my story. Can you blame me?

Callum threw our bags in the elevator, using one of them to hold the door open. He lifted me up and carried me 'over the threshold' of our building's front door, and placed a kiss at my temple. He kicked the bag holding the door open into the lift and we rode up to our floor, kissing like our lips weren't already red and swollen.

As we passed each floor, Callum would groan at each bell alerting to us to every floor. We were close, sending my heart into a frenzy. The doors dinged, signaling we'd arrived. Callum set me down right outside the lift doors and grabbed our bags, tossing them in front of our door. I walked closely to him, his hand gripping my waist.

On the door, were ten or so messages from our landlord, letting us know about packages that needed to be picked up or letting us know about visits from the N.Y.P.D, etc. Callum grabbed them all before opening the door to our home and tossing them onto the hall table, the bags came next and then me. He wrapped me in his arms again, locking the door behind us, and made a beeline for his dark bedroom. None of our friends knew we were coming home that night for, um, obvious reasons.

Callum laid me gently on his dark bed before standing to close his bedroom door. "Are you comfortable, Mrs. Tate?"

"Very much, Mr. Tate, thank you," I told him.

He lowered himself next to me and kissed me like there was no tomorrow. "I'm so unbelievably grateful to be lying next to you, wife. You feel like a dream to me."

"Maybe it is a dream. Maybe we're not even awake right now. Maybe you're a figment of my imagination and this entire ride has been a trip down unconscious lane. Maybe I'm still in my coma," I contemplated, irrational fear creeping up my healing spine.

Callum kissed me deeply. "Does that feel like a dream?" He asked.