Adam felt her quick inhale. The sudden stiffening that was just as suddenly an exhale as Laurel began kissing him back.
It took everything he possessed not to forget where they were. That he couldn’t very well pull Laurel into him until everything outside of them, outside of that moment, fell away.
When he finally lifted his head, her aquamarine eyes looked dazed. She lifted her hand and touched his lips, so lightly it could have been nothing but a dream.
“We were celebrating my twenty-first birthday,” she whispered. “I brought champagne and we nearly spit it out because it was so dreadful. But you still insisted on finishing it, because it was our first bottle of champagne together.” Her hand lowered and her fingers fluttered to her throat. “You gave me this necklace.”
And the next day she’d moved in with him and he’d started working extra shifts so he could afford to buy a ring.
A ring she’d never accepted.
He pushed the thought away and looked over her head, turning her so she was looking out at the beauty spread out before them. “I think I saw an eagle over there.” He pointed over her shoulder.
“Mmm.” She leaned back against him and tugged at his arm until he lowered it and wrapped it across her shoulders. And there they stood. Floating above the treetops.
It was inevitable that such an idyllic moment couldn’t last.
Unlike the two-hour balloon trip he’d scrimped for months to surprise her with on her birthday, this up-and-down ride wasn’t even fifteen minutes. And it was Bobby who reminded him of that fact.
“You folks want a picture before we descend?” The balloonist was looking at them expectantly. “Most people do.”
So Adam handed over his cell phone and the kid held it up, snapping several shots. Then he handed it back and reached for a line and the balloon immediately began descending.
Adam started to pocket the phone, but it vibrated in his hand. He glanced at the screen and tensed.
Laurel’s expression tightened. “Your girlfriend again?”
He frowned at her as he slid his thumb across the screen and held it to his ear. “Kane, you heard from the social worker?”
“Not yet. Johnson called. Baby started running a fever this afternoon.”
He swore under his breath. He’d spent more time in the last week feeling helpless than ever before in his life and he hated it.
“Where are you, anyway?” Kane asked.
“Colorado. How the hell did Linus get a fever? They’ve had him nearly hermetically sealed for weeks!”
Laurel’s face had paled and she was clutching the side of the basket again as though her life depended on it.
“Adam,” Kane’s voice was irritatingly reasonable, “all I know is he’s got a fever. Doesn’t mean he’s rejecting the transplant.”
“Doesn’t mean he isn’t,” Adam countered flatly.
“I’ll drive over to the hospital tonight,” Kane told him. “At least to be there.”
“Thanks. I’ll call the hospital myself, too.” Dr. Patel—the guy in charge of the transplant unit at the hospital—and the nurses assigned to Linus would tell Adam anything he needed to know. That fact was only because of Eric’s doing, and was just one more reason why Adam’s resentment of him made him feel like a crumb.
There was a hard bump as the basket contacted earth again and he gestured for Laurel to climb out. She did so, then clutched her arms around herself as though they’d just spent fifteen minutes in the alpine rather than beneath the hot blasts of the balloon’s burner.
“I’ll be in touch, Kane.” He shoved the phone in his pocket and barely had the presence of mind to remember to tip the pilot before he took Laurel’s arm and turned toward the park’s exit.
The ticket lady jogged after them and Laurel took the shopping bag they’d both forgotten with a weak thank-you.
“Wait.” Adam called the woman when she started back to her ticket table. “What’s the fastest way to get back downtown?” He told her the name of their hotel.
“Trolley if you catch it right. Otherwise it’s probably just as fast to walk as it would be to wait for a ride share or taxi.” She gestured. “Nearest stop is over there by that row of park benches. There’s a sign but you can’t see it from here because of the trees.”
“Thanks.” He immediately steered Laurel in the direction of the benches. “We’ll wait a couple minutes,” he told her. “If it doesn’t come, we’re hoofing it.”
She didn’t look inclined to disagree. “What’s the reason for the social worker?”
He swallowed the explanation that automatically sprang up. “Transplant stuff,” he lied and hoped she was unfamiliar enough with the actual donor process that she wouldn’t realize it.
Now was not the time for her to learn that Adam was their son’s father.
She’d started chewing on her lip. “Thank you.”
He forced himself to slow his pace when he realized she was skipping to keep up. “For what?”
She gaped for a moment. “For keeping up with Linus, obviously.” She tugged at her sleeve, then seemed to realize it and stopped. “I’m sure not every donor takes such a keen interest. But you know I’m his mother and...” She trailed off, not finishing.
Just as well. He was practically choking as it was.
Fortunately, he spotted the distinctive red shuttle approaching. “Trolley’s nearly to the stop.” He looked speculatively from it to the row of benches to her. “Think you can beat it?”
“I wasn’t a runner for nothing,” she said not so far under her breath that he couldn’t hear, and took off like a shot.
He balled the shopping bag in his fist and ran after her.
They made it with barely a second to spare, and then only because the driver saw them coming and pulled to a stop again after he’d already begun pulling away from the benches.
Laurel was breathing very hard as she collapsed into the first seat she came to. She leaned over, hanging her head between her knees while Adam paid their fares. He sat down in the seat opposite her. “Are you all right?”
“I will be.” She
