“No, I’ve never had any allergic reactions.”
“Great. It says here that you’ve never had any other surgeries? Nothing at all? Even something small is important to know. Wisdom teeth, plastic surgery.”
“Nothing,” I tell the anesthesiologist.
“Wonderful,” she says, flipping through her papers. “I’m sorry for taking so long, I just want to confirm everything to be really thorough. Moderate drinking? Non-smoker?”
“That’s all correct,” I tell her, suppressing a yawn at the endless questioning.
“Alright. Let’s get this show on the road!” she says. “I’m going to be right back in a moment to put you to sleep.”
“Peachy,” I mumble as she leaves the room. “You could have just kept talking and I’m sure it would have knocked me out.”
The door closes behind her, but it opens again a moment later. I hear the sound of shoes squeaking on the floor as someone else approaches. I smile when I recognize the soles of the footwear and the sound of the gait. “Liam,” I say softly.
Without a word, he comes over to the operating table and places his hand on the curve of my hip. The warmth of his skin easily seeps through the thin fabric of the hospital gown. He does not speak, but he leans down to place a kiss on my lips.
I kiss back for a moment, and my body is instantly flooded with heat and yearning. I wish that I could pull him down against me and ask him to take me right here on this operating table. Instead, I place a hand on his chest and gently push him away.
“The anesthesiologist will be back at any moment,” I warn him nervously. “Don’t be careless. We can make out later.”
“She’s cool,” Liam says, sliding his hand over my body in a way that makes me squirm and breathe a little faster. “We only really have to worry about the nurses. Some of them are really fond of me, and they might decide to try and kill you in your sleep if they realize you’re standing in the way.”
“Liam!” I whisper, smacking his arm. “Jesus. That is not what a girl wants to hear minutes before getting knocked unconscious.”
“I’m just kidding. Don’t worry,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and squeezing my arm. “I’m going to watch you like a hawk. I won’t let anyone do anything to you that isn’t perfect and precise and intended only to heal you. This is going to be great. I promise. You’ll see! Yes, pun intended.”
“That was terrible,” I tell him, suppressing a smile. I sigh and reach out to touch his leg. “I wish this surgery wasn’t today. I just wanted to stay in bed with you for as long as possible.”
“You did,” he tells me with a chuckle. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to try any of the pizza I ordered—but I couldn’t let you have any food or drink after midnight.”
“It’s your fault for distracting me until midnight,” I say teasingly. “But I suppose I did need the distraction.” I shift uncomfortably on the hospital bed. “Liam, do you think surgery is really necessary at this point? I’ve been like this for so long that I don’t feel like there’s anything wrong with me. Maybe I should just be content with who I am? I’m anxious. I don’t feel... ready.”
“Just leave it all to me,” he says gently. “You said you trust me, remember? I’ll be right here when you wake up. There are almost no risks to your health other than infection—but you’ve been taking the antibiotic eye drops, and I’ll make sure we’re extra careful. Let’s consider this a gamble with a high probability of success. You’re actually very healthy and much stronger than you think. I discovered that last night when you were able to completely exhaust me.”
I laugh lightly in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. You’re addictive. I couldn’t seem to get enough.”
“Neither could I,” he says, placing a kiss against the palm of my hand. “We’ll pick up right where we left off when we get home tonight—if you’re up for it. If you’re in too much pain, we can wait a few days.”
“Days? I can barely wait a few minutes,” I tell him shyly.
Liam gently brushes his hand through my hair, and he seems like he is about to speak when he gets interrupted.
“Hey!” shouts a familiar voice, and I look up in realization that Owen has entered the room. I hear a loud snap as he pulls a rubber glove down over his wrist. “Liam, get your hands off the patient! We’ll have none of that hanky-panky in my operating room.”
“Your operating room?” Liam says in amusement.
“Winter, don’t worry about a thing,” Owen assures me. “I’ll be watching this one to make sure he does a good job and doesn’t get distracted by your body. If his hands start shaking because he gets too turned on, I’ll take over.”
“Owen, I resent that,” Liam says in a low tone. “You know I would never let my emotional state interfere with my work.”
“Hey, it could happen. I’ve seen some interesting videos lately about eyeball fetishes in Japan. I have no idea what kinky stuff you’re into, man. All I know is that Winter has really pretty eyeballs, and I need to look out for her best interests.” Owen claps Liam on the back affectionately. “Just try not to lose your marbles while we’re working on her marbles.”
“Buddy,” Liam says in an annoyed tone. “If you keep implying that I’m a bad doctor in front of my girlfriend who I’m about to operate on, you’re going to be the one in danger of losing two very important marbles. If you know what I mean.”
Owen gulps loudly, and I can only imagine the death glare that Liam is giving him. I laugh at their boyish threats.
“I know you guys will do a great job,” I tell them sincerely. “Even if it doesn’t work on me, thanks for trying.”
“It will work,” Owen says confidently. “We’re essentially just giving your eyes a little push so that they can heal themselves. We’ll be inserting the viral vector containing healthy copies of the RPE65 gene just under your retina...”
“I’ve gone over this with her dozens of times,” Liam assures Owen. “She knows how the gene therapy works.”
“Oh,” Owen says in disappointment. “Fine. I get it. Less talking, more action.”
The clinking of feminine shoes alerts me to the return of the anesthesiologist. I hear the sound of her fiddling with an apparatus in the room. “Have these boys been bothering you?” she asks me. “Don’t worry. I know they sound like idiots, but they’re brilliant.”
“It’s okay. I trust them,” I tell the anesthesiologist. “I’m a little stressed out, and listening to their bad jokes relaxes me a bit.”
“Honey, I’ve got just the thing to relax you,” she says, placing a plastic mask over my face. “Just breathe normally for a minute or two. I’m going to put some oxygen through here first, but in a moment you’re going to encounter a sweet smell and find yourself drifting off to sleep.”
“Okay,” I mumble into the gas mask. The scent of plastic assails my nostrils, and I wrinkle my nose up slightly.
“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” Liam assures me. “I want to be the first thing you see, once you can see.”
“Like a mother duck?” Owen asks him.
“Duck?” I respond in confusion.
“You know,” Owen says, “how slightly after hatching...”
While he is in the process of responding, his voice seems to get further and further away until I can’t hear anything at all. This bothers me, because I was very curious to hear what he had to say about the mother duck.