Found by Elle Field Read Free Book Online Page B

had worked out differently.
    ‘Pony?’
    ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’ I turn my attention back to the here and now. ‘How was it?’
    ‘Boring.’
    ‘All sorted with the insurance?’
    ‘Yep.’
    Piers looks absolutely fed up, so I reach into my handbag and pull out a brown paper bag, desperately hoping that no grease has soaked through and marked its silk lining. That would really top off my look. I’ll be parading around New York City wearing dirty jeans, smelly underwear and a shirt borrowed from my fiancé. Add in a grease-stained handbag and I’ll definitely get stopped in the street by someone wanting to take a photo of me, the style icon – not !
    ‘Ta-da!’
    I hand Piers the paper bag. At last, he has a hint of a smile on his face. It kills me to see him looking so bleak and weak, surrounded by machines and connected to those tubes. It’s the small breathing tube in his nose that worries me the most, knowing that it’s there because he’s struggling to breathe normally – something we all take for granted.
    ‘Is this...?’ He opens up the bag. ‘It is!’
    His smile turns into a grin as he pulls out his chicken enchilada suizas, which are basically normal enchiladas covered in a béchamel sauce. Calorific , but probably delicious if the smell is anything to go by. I pull out another bag which contains my marinated shredded-steak mini tacos and a side of sweet plantains. I’m salivating at the thought of those juicy steak bits.
    ‘And!’ I pull out some Jelly Belly Soda in green apple flavour and hand it to him. ‘For you!’
    His face lights up when he sees it because he loves this stuff. I’ve stuck to a bottle of water to help my skin, which is feeling tight without my skincare products.
    ‘This is the best meal ever!’ he declares. ‘Thank you, Pony.’
    ‘Even better than Le Gavroche?’ I tease.
    ‘Yes,’ he groans through a mouthful of his enchiladas.
    This sets alarm bells off. Piers love his food, but this reaction is extreme – even for him. He’d never forget his manners.
    ‘Wait, you are allowed to eat, aren’t you?’
    Even in his weakened state I suspect Piers would put up a decent fight if I tried to wrestle his food away from him, but I think “nil by mouth” only applies to those having surgery, not those recovering.
    ‘Of course.’ He pinches one of my plantains.
    ‘Hey!’ I protest.
    ‘Well, tuck in!’
    So, I do, and I can honestly say that Piers is right. Sitting here eating this food with him is definitely our best meal together. I’m so relieved to be here with the man I love. Eating, laughing, breathing . I’d be broken without Piers.
    ‘Same again tomorrow, please,’ he chirps, finishing his bottle of soda and passing it back to me. I start putting our empty wrappers back in the brown paper bags when a nurse enters Piers’ room. ‘Uh-oh,’ Piers jokes, ‘busted!’
    ‘I’ll pretend I didn’t see that, Mr Bramley,’ the nurse says in a strict voice, ‘but only because that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile. And I can see why,’ she says, turning to me. ‘This must be your fiancée.’
    ‘Hi, I’m Arielle.’
    ‘And I’m here to clean and change Mr Bramley’s tubes,’ she says briskly, but with a twinkle in her eye. I know she means his catheter.
    ‘Do you want me to go?’ I ask Piers, and he looks relieved – there are some things that don’t need to be seen by your other half. ‘I can come back later though?’ I add.
    ‘Aren’t you tired?’
    ‘Exhausted,’ I admit.
    I’m not running on New York time, and I’m also knackered from walking around earlier. Thank goodness it’s quite cool for late April. As soon as the temperature creeps above 25°C, I’ll be cabbing it a lot more.
    The air gets stifling in New York in a way that it never seems to in London – sure, it gets muggy at home, but it’s doesn’t reach New York levels – and that means the fatigue kicks in even sooner. Not to mention the fact that no