There's no party when I come home this time, but I didn't think there would be. Barely surviving isn't exactly a reason to celebrate, and Edward and my brother were right; I barely have any strength now. The oxygen full time helps some, but I get tired just walking a little and only manage to make it to the couch when they bring me home.

"I'm going to get you a snack and something to drink," Emmett says as Edward gently helps me onto the couch.

My boyfriend smiles sadly as I breathe deeply from the nasal cannula in my nose. "It was a long drive home," he says. "I wish you'd slept."

"I'm fine," I mumble. "The walk in got me, that's all. You weren't kidding that I'd be weak."

"You'll get your strength back soon, but you need to rest. Please take advantage of having Rosalie here with you and don't push yourself or else you'll likely wind up back in the hospital."

I nod, knowing he's right about the hospital thing, which I'd very much like to avoid. "Thank you for being with me. It was nice that you had no excuse to leave."

"I love you, remember? I didn't want to even leave you that first night, and I was glad Emmett and you wanted me to stay the second. I was a mess with concern before your heart cath and hated being without you."

I laugh softly. "Yeah, well, I wasn't any better—as you noticed. I wish we were out in the open right about now."

He nods. "Me too, gorgeous. Me fucking too. But ... maybe I can come by when Rosalie is here and tell her I'm giving her a break. It won't be long, but we might get a few minutes alone so I can hold you."

"I'd like that." I smile as Emmett comes back from the kitchen.

"I made some eggs and toast," he says. "I'm sorry there's no bacon, but I think Edward would kill me if I tried to give that to you."

Edward laughs, shrugging. "I might have let it slide after what she's been through."

"Do we have bacon?" I ask in all seriousness.

"Well, no, actually. It was kind of a joke."

"A terrible one," I say, sighing as I take the scrambled eggs and toast from him. "You're lucky you make the best eggs, but I desire butter for the toast."

"Fat-free is the best I can do," he says and heads back into the kitchen for a brief moment.

I tolerate the bullshit that is fat-free butter because, honestly, it's not all that terrible. After I'm done eating, Edward sadly leaves and promises to check in on me while Emmett seems to watch me like a hawk all day. He goes as far as standing outside the bathroom door while I go, which is fucking ridiculous.

Around eight, I decide enough is enough. "I'm going to get a bath. Leave me the fuck alone, okay?"

"Is a bath really necessary tonight?"

"Considering I've spent the last two days without being allowed to shower and instead wiping myself down with glorified baby wipes, yes, I think it is. If I even so much as hear a creak outside the door, I'm going to tell Rosalie to break up with you."

"Goddamn, that's harsh," he says, "Fine, I'll leave you alone. But only for a half-hour, and then I'm going to start knocking."

I stand up slowly from the couch, rolling my eyes. "All right, but I'm only compromising my planned hour-long bath for your sanity."

"I appreciate that," he says as I head up the stairs.

I pour copious amounts of bubble bath in and slide into the tub, sighing as the warm water washes over my body. It's bliss. I turn on a little music and grab my phone, texting Edward.

Thank you for everything you've done for me, handsome. I miss you already.

It's not long before the three dots appear, showing he's responding.

It's my pleasure to take care of you, and I miss you too. Are you relaxing?

I decide to be a little bold and open my camera app, taking a picture of myself in the tub. It's classy though—bubbles over the intimate bits.

I send it to him and get an instant reply.

You look gorgeous. You have no idea how much I wish I were in that tub with you.

I smile, wishing he were too.

Emmett works Friday night, and by then, he should be fine with leaving me alone. Can I come over?

You never have to ask. I can't wait to have you in my arms again. Please rest this week. You need it.

I roll my eyes but kind of like his concern.

Will do, Doctor.

He sends one more text, and I'm not sure how to respond.

Good. We'll talk tomorrow. Sleep well. I love you.

It feels wrong to say it over text for the first time—even though I truly do love him. So, I chicken out and just reply with, "You too."

I'm so fucking lame.

Thanks to May, Nole, Fran, Brier, and Meg for prereading and Sally for Beta'ing.

I screwed up and posted 56 as 55. Please go back and read true 55. I'm so sorry!