I frown at my hand then stretch my arm out straight and study it. “I’ve lost weight.” I sit on the edge of the bed and extend my legs out before me one at a time. They’re long. Obviously I haven’t grown in the last year, but they’re so much thinner that they look longer to me. I’ve taken a couple of groggy trips to the bathroom with nurses at my side, but I didn’t pay much attention to my body. I certainly didn’t bother to look in the mirror. Thanks to my litany of aches and pains, I was too afraid to look.
I bring my hand to my stomach and draw in a breath. This isn’t my body. I’ve never been this thin. Not as a teenager, not as a child.
I look to Maggie. “Did this happen before or after Max started dating me?”
“After,” she says carefully.
I start to stand, and she takes my arm. “I’m fine,” I assure her. “I just want to look.”
She ignores my protest and escorts me to the bathroom, where I freeze at the sight of myself in the mirror. These bruises on my face aren’t very pretty. In fact, they almost look worse than they feel—which is saying something. But what really has me staring is the shape of my face. My cheekbones are visible, the line of my jaw more defined.
“I’ll give you a minute,” Maggie says. “I’ll be right on the other side of the door if you need me.”
After the door clicks behind her, I lift my hospital gown and study my body in the mirror. Frowning, I run my hands over my belly. It’s flatter than I ever remember it being, and I can feel muscle definition beneath my stretchmark-wrinkled skin. The bruises at my ribs could get me a job starring in a domestic-violence video. Was this all really from a fall down the stairs?
I’ll never have a model’s body, yet I’m nearly giddy at the sight of myself. My waist is tiny for the first time in my life, my thighs toned, and the breasts I always cursed for making me look even bigger than I was are now nice curves. I’m actually excited to put on clothes and see my new body when I’m dressed like a normal person.
“It all seems too good to be true,” I murmur as I study my reflection.
“Which part?” Maggie pokes her head into the bathroom just as I’m repositioning my gown. “The bruises or the traumatic brain injury?”
“You know what I mean.”
She raises a brow. “You’re the only person I know who could go through what you did and still think life is peachy. The rest of the world could learn a thing or two from you, Han.”
I follow her out of the bathroom. “It’s like a dream, you know. Suddenly, I wake up and, sure, I’m in the hospital and pretty banged up, but I have everything I’ve ever wanted. The busi
ness, the body—”
“You were gorgeous before,” she tells me as I lower onto the edge of the bed. “You’re the only one who couldn’t see it.”
“It’s not just that.”
“Max,” she provides.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I feel like the universe wants me to see everything, to not take it for granted. The doctor said my memory will probably be back soon, so maybe this is the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to me. How many of us get to step back from our lives and see how perfect they really are?”
“No one’s life is perfect, Hanna.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do know, and it worries me. You’ve got stars in your eyes about your life, and in a couple of days you’re going to start living it again. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it isn’t everything it seems.”
I slouch into my pillows and take a deep breath in the silence of my hospital room.
Mom hosts brunch every Sunday at her house, and since I’m not expected to be released until tonight, she brought Sunday brunch to me this morning. My sisters were all here—Abby, Maggie, Lizzy, even Krystal, who came home from Florida when she heard about my condition. Asher stopped by. And of course, Max. Max, who hustled everyone out of the room just when I started feeling claustrophobic. Max, who managed to get my mom to change the subject when she didn’t want to talk about anything but the wedding. Max, whom I caught watching me the way Asher watches Maggie, the way Will watches Cally.
A knock sounds on the door, and I expect to see Lizzy, but red curls, not blond, peek into the room.
“Are you okay?” Maggie asks. She steps in and closes the door behind her.
I swing my legs around to the floor and nod. “I’m good.”
“It’s all overwhelming, I bet.”
“Does Mom still have him cornered?”
Maggie grins. “Yeah. I think she’d marry him herself if she could.”