Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 137

Going Home

Sedona’s POV

She left, and I finished packing the small bag that represented two months that I had lived in a hospital room-not much, because I’d brought little, because honestly I didn’t think I would live this long.

Cameron came at noon to take me home.

He appeared in the doorway with the look he’d had all week, he was present, attentive to me, but there was a look in his eyes that never seemed to leave completely and I had already classified it as the Lucian situation that he hadn’t updated me on, beyond the confirmation that he had resumed work as his PA, and I decided not to push yet on that matter.

“Ready?” he said.

“I’ve been ready for a while now.” I said with a smile on my face.

“You’ve been ready for two months,” he said, coming in to take the bag from my hand as he continued. “You were ready before you were ready.”

“That is a sentence that means something.”

“It means you’re stubborn.” He picked up the bag and took a good look at me from head to toe, a relieved, happy smile on his face, not hidden with anything else, the raw feeling was spread on his face for me to see, and I could see tears gathering in his eyes that he tried to hide. “You look good, Sedona.”

“I look like someone who’s been in a hospital for two months.”

“You look like someone who’s been in a hectic battle for two months and won,” he said. “It’s a specific look. Wear it well.”

I stood.

My legs were steadier than they’d been at any point in the past two months, I still felt exhausted and a little pale, but I was on my feet without any support from the nurses, my family or walking aids. My legs shook for a moment but steadied itself too quickly. But I was standing, and steady, and my own.

I walked out of room for the last time.

The drive home took twenty-two minutes.

Cameron drove carefully, not too slow, but also not too fast, keeping it in the speed limit like he was carrying precious cargo and was afraid of tumbling it. He talked about the traffic, about something Durian had said that morning that had apparently been funny and worth retelling, and then a grocery disaster that had happened to him yesterday, as I engaged in those conversation.

I looked out the window as he turned into our neighborhood and soon stopped in front of our compound, the same house that hadn’t changed no matter what.

The car stopped at the top of the driveway.

I didn’t move immediately.

Cameron didn’t say anything, or urged me out, but waited as I processed this.

I looked at the house, taking in everything again, I remembered standing in this driveway as a child and then as a teenager and a young adult, kad stood in it, terrified of my wedding with Enzo before deciding runnning away was the solution.

I’d stood in it two months ago, newly returned from Chicago, barely standing, Cameron’s hand under my arm.

I was standing in it now, in a different body, from a different time in my life, ready to reclaim what I thought I was leaving behind.

“Ready?” Cameron said, again.

“Yes,” I said. And meant it differently than I’d meant it an hour ago.

They were all there.

“Hello, Molly,” I said, taking her, settling her against me.

She patted my cheek with one hand and looked at me and nodded her head babbling something that was incomprehensible but definitely worth listening to.

“She’s been asking for you,” Rachel said. “In her language. She is happy to see you.

“I am happy to see her too,” I said.

Dante was in the sitting room doorway.

He’d arrived before Cameron and I had, apparently, because he was there standing still, not saying anything, waiting for his turn to be acknowledged by me.

He looked at me and I looked at him.

“You’re out,” he said.

“I’m out.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like I want to be somewhere that isn’t a hospital room,” I said.

“That’s a good sign,” he said.

He didn’t hug me, because he was careful about giving me space and didn’t have that long standing history to hug me like the rest did, but he gave me a nod which was also acceptable and Dante like.