Chapter 10

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"I... I... will!" Bernie stammered, as she started coughing violently.

He clicked on a machine beside her bed and held a mask over her face. "Take slow deep breaths, sweetheart."

The soothing vapor relaxed her breathing. "I will." She repeated through the mask.

Alex smiled at her and kissed her forehead. His eyes were bright with happy tears. "Thank you. I promise, you won't regret it."

Bernie nodded. He held her hand until she fell asleep. When she woke, Stephanie was at the end of her bed. She knew Alex was probably on duty.

The RN grinned at Bernie. "So, you thought you could get out of making our coffees, eh?"

Bernie coughed a little, but smiled, "I couldn't help it."

"Yeah, well, we all want brownies when you get well, and by we all, I mean me," teasing, Stephanie winked at her. "I'll get your medication, Miss Austen." Stephanie stopped in the door and a strangely sad look passed over her features for just a moment before she smiled again. "I'm glad you're going to be okay, Bernie, and I'm glad you're marrying Alex. You two are going to be the best couple."

Then she was gone, and Bernie was too groggy to wonder what had made her look so sad.

Several other nurses, doctors, and hospital staff stopped in to see Bernie and congratulate her. Many taunted Alex he got lucky. He took the ribbing in a good-natured way, teasingly admitting she might not have said yes if he hadn't saved her life.

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Adult Content

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A few months later...

Bernie woke up in Alex's arms, because, at least once a week, she stayed over with him at the frat house since her illness. Sometimes they had sex, sometimes they just cuddled; he called it 'easing into coupleness'.

Her boarding room lease was up in June and they were looking forward to getting an apartment together. As she curled against his chest, she sighed contentedly. He was flying to Hawaii today. His mother was having a double mastectomy and lymphadenectomy, then she would start months of chemotherapy. Alex was planning on making bi-weekly trips back and forth. All their Spring Break and Easter plans were put on hold until they knew if his mother's cancer was cured. Bernie prayed every day for the woman who birthed the man she loved. Alex shifted like he was going to roll over in his sleep, so she started to move her body away from his.

She was surprised when he whispered, "Don't move away."

Butterfly kisses began peppering her neck and trailing down her chest. She moaned involuntarily as his hands deftly

unbuttoned his shirt she was sleeping in. It only took his expert care a few minutes to render her a quivering needy mess then she bit her lip to keep from screaming out his name as his tongue and fingers caressed her most intimate place. She was kissing him desperately, wanting more when he leaned back.

"Sweetie, we can't. I don't have any condoms. I think Lyle borrowed my last two." Alex explained breathlessly, his manhood throbbed with the need to be inside her, but they never had sex without protection because birth control pills made Bernadette have migraine headaches, and the one time they had a condom break, the morning after pill made her sick for days.

"It's just once," She murmured, kissing a fiery trail down his chest as her hand rubbed his firmness, "And I can just take one of those morning after pills." She wished she could just give him a blow job like a normal girl, but it still bothered her. Every intimacy was a struggle, but she wanted him to feel satisfied and loved the way he made her feel. She rose up and straddled him, rubbing her core against his length.

He moaned like he was in pain as she begged, "Please, Alex. You're leaving for two weeks, and I'll be on my cycle when you get back."

"But they make you... you... you s-so... s-sick," he groaned barely getting the words out. Rocking her hips, his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Please, make love to me," she whispered against his lips, pressing her breasts into his chest. She shifted her hips and the warm wetness which squeezed him made his legs jerk.

They never had sex without something between them. It was overwhelming, and when she cried out his name, he went over the edge with her.

Two hours later, they stood in front of the departure drop-off at the airport. He kissed her slowly, "I miss you already."

She smiled against his lips, "I miss you too."

"Come with me, forget your job and come with me," He begged foolishly. He knew she wouldn't because she gave him the same look she had the last time he asked.

"I have the coffee kiosk and three banquets, and as tempting as Hawaii in April sounds, I can't."

"I love you. I am going to hate sharing you with your café." Alex admitted.

"I love you and I am going to hate sharing you with your patients, but we are too good at what we do," she reminded smugly. A car horn honked, and she scowled. "I gotta go. Be safe, give your mom my love."

"I will," Alex gave her a quick kiss and opened the door for her then he reminded her, "I love you, babe. And don't forget to get your prescription filled, we don't want a baby yet." Another car horn punctuated the end of his sentence.

"I love you. Bye." She got in and pulled out; her heart hurt not because he was going, but because of something in the way he said the last part of his goodbye. She didn't want a baby yet either, but he had said it with such finality, almost like he never wanted a baby. She realized of all the things they had discussed about his practice and her café; they had never once discussed children.

The light turned green, and she started to pull out into traffic. It was a strange sense of déjà vu as the sound of shattering glass and screaming metal happened next to her. Turning her head, Bernie could only brake as the t-boned car in the next lane clipped the front of her little coup. The airbag exploded in her face and deflated into her lap as she gasped terrified breaths in and out.

Looking around, she saw the car next to her folded around the front of a pickup truck. There was a man lying half out the door of the car, blood pumping out of a deep gash in his neck. She could see his brain through his shattered skull. The pickup truck driver had a piece of pipe or something sticking through his eye. Bernie unclipped her seatbelt and staggered out of the remains of her car, then puked on the street before fainting into the arms of a stranger.

Bernie woke up with Stephanie standing over her. "Girl, we gotta quit meeting like this, my waistline can't handle all the brownies you make for the staff every time you get hurt or sick."

Laughing painfully, Bernie asked, "I can always make you high fiber, prune Danishes."

Stephanie smirked, "No thank you! Seriously Bernie, you got so lucky. The other two drivers died. Dr. Mahdif wants to talk to you about concussion and whiplash precautions then you're free to go. I... I didn't text Dr. Marvillis, the thing with his mom." Stephanie's words trailed off.

"Thanks, Stephanie. I don't want him worried, he's still in the air. His mom is having major surgery tomorrow and since, I'm going to be fine, it is better if he focuses on her recovery than worried about my car getting dented," Bernie agreed.

Stephanie laughed, "Oh honey, your car is so much more than dented. It is at my brother-in-law's salvage yard. I don't think it can be fixed."

Bernie sighed, "That's what insurance is for."

Dr. Mahdif walked in at that moment, "Oh my coffee angel, you must stop scaring me like this. My poor undercaffeinated heart can't handle losing you. I would never get a decent cup of coffee again... Now, let's go over a few things you need to watch out for after your accident."

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An exhausted Alex stumbled into his mother's house, it was almost midnight. There had been a complication with Adelina's surgery, and she had almost bled out. He was shocked to find his brother's ex-fiancée sitting in the kitchen, drinking his father's expensive bourbon from one of his mother's bone china teacups. He had never seen her drink more than two ounces of wine at once.

"Carla? What are you doing here?" Alex demanded as he grabbed a glass of water.

The inebriated woman hiccupped. "Anthony broke up with me. He called and broke up with me because he said I was a needy drama queen who didn't care about anyone but myself. It's not true, I care."

Alex almost rolled his eyes; he did not want to deal with her neediness tonight. "Carla, you opened an account in our mother's name and charged nearly eight thousand dollars without telling anyone."

"But it was for the wedding, I did it for the wedding," she sobbed.

"There isn't going to be a wedding. Anthony told you to wait and you didn't, then you secretly set the ceremony date without telling him or mom. I'm sorry, I know you love him, but we can't have a wedding in two weeks. Mom will be in treatment and Anthony isn't ready," Alex reminded firmly, but her tears made his heart hurt for her. "Drink this." He handed her his glass of water then got another one for himself.

"Why can't Tony be as loving and sweet as you?" Carla asked.

Gently, Alex tried to console her, "Look Carla, just give Anthony some time. We can have a wedding next year, once Mom is well."

Carla nodded, wiping the tears and snot from her face with a dish towel. "I wish I was marrying you instead of Tony. Bernie is so lucky. But if you change your mind, you know I'm available now."

"Uhm, thanks, but I'm not available," Alex immediately answered then gulped his water.

He turned to put his glass in the sink and when he turned back, Carla was asleep with her head on the table. Grumbling to himself, he picked her up and carried her to Anthony's room. After carefully arranging her on her side so she couldn't choke if she vomited in her sleep. She mumbled something which sounded like "I love you so much, don't leave me," and pulled at him as he tried to cover her with a light blanket.

Extracting himself, Alex went to his own room and locked the door. He didn't trust Carla any more than he trusted her sister, but she seemed to love his brother and so he hoped they could reconcile or come to some sort of understanding. As he got ready for bed, he wondered when Carla had started drinking, he always thought she hated alcohol because of her mom. It felt like she was stalking Anthony and, by proxy, Alex. It was just one more thing that made Alex grateful for his Bernadette.

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Trixie wiped down the counters as she waited for her shift to end. The familiar hum of a BMW Spyder pulled into the drive-thru of Risqué's Coffee.

"Hey handsome, your usual or do you want something special tonight?" She purred, leaning forward to enhance her cleavage. "You're lucky you caught me. I was going to head home early; it's been so slow with the rain."

The middle-aged businessman smiled at her, his eyes lingering over her curves, "Just the usual evening decaf, Queen Bea."

He watched her sashay around the small space making his drink. "Say a little birdie told me, you and I belong to the same gym."

Trixie was glad to be facing away from him as a scowled marred her practiced flirty smile for a moment. She leaned down from the waist to give him a full view of her legs and bum to put the coconut syrup back. When she turned back, she held a perfectly made Coconut Colada coffee with fluffy whipped cream and a little umbrella tucked into the clear plastic dome.

"I don't belong to a gym. My sister does, but F-Y-I, she doesn't like guys and gets really biyatchy if one of my clients tries to talk to her," Trixie lied smoothly as she presented him his drink. "Be a lamb and don't bother her. I am still hearing about the last one who tried to talk to her and her girlfriend."

"No problemo, beautiful." He handed her a ten-dollar bill, "Keep the change, Bea. See you tomorrow night."

"Thanks, handsome. Drive safe." She waved as he pulled out and watched him on the cameras pour a little something extra into his coffee from a flask. She could only shake her head; she was trying to get away from that life.

Tucking the three dollars in change into her tip envelope, she shut down the machines, prepped tomorrow's cold brew, and flipped off the switch to the gaudy neon sign over the drive-through. She was working a double again tomorrow because one of the other baristas was arrested for solicitation. Trixie's job was hard enough without some stupid part-timer using the coffee kiosk to get more johns. Her phone chimed and outside, she got into an uber. She missed her car, but she wouldn't have her license back until Memorial Day.

As she handed Carlos his usual, the grandfatherly man smiled at her. "Any creepers today, Bea?"

"Only the same ones who creep every day. So, are you staying for the meeting tonight, papa Carlos?" She asked tiredly.

"I volunteered to be your sponsor, so yes. Do you need me to stop at the bank before we go to St. Ignatius's?" Carlos asked.

Trixie shook her head, "No, not enough tips to bother with the bank," she answered.

Listening to Carlos talk about his grandchildren, Trixie watched the traffic flow by. Trixie hated that she lied to her sister about why she was getting sober, but Bernie was engaged to the handsome Dr. Alex Marvillis and needed to focus on her own life and not her screwed-up sister. She hated the court ordered sobriety which resulted from the arrest at a Sobriety Checkpoint. Her near death two days before the new year almost sent her grandmum to her grave and the judge said she should have learned her lesson, so he gave her the max sentence without jail time because Emma was still recovering.

She made herself not stare at the line in front of her favorite nightclub as they drove by. She had changed into a sweatsuit at the kiosk and stuffed her workwear into a backpack. It was better to go to her Alcoholics Anonymous meeting looking like a ragged college co-ed than a lingerie barista from a burlesque show, especially since the meeting was at her grandmum's church.

After everyone sat down, several people took turns standing up, then it was Trixie's turn.

"Hi, my name is Trixie and I have been drinking since I was eleven. I have been on court ordered sobriety since January. I am trying to get my life back together. Things have been really hard the last few months; my grandmum had a heart attack at my last court appearance and I almost died from drugged fruit punch served at a rave. I can't go out with friends because they just want to party. My sister is away at college and getting married next summer so I don't really talk to her about it. She deserves all the happiness she can get. I want to be able to stay sober at her wedding and not do anything stupid."

Instead of the usual "Hello, Trixie", a woman she had never seen raised her hand and blurted out in an angry voice, "Why shouldn't you tell your sister? She doesn't deserve a happy life if you're suffering."

To Trixie, the woman's waspish tone said she was a very selfish person and Trixie hissed viciously, "She does too. When I was eleven, and my sister was twelve, our mom started dating a man who was a pedophile. He hurt us. I became an addict because I couldn't deal, but she didn't, she stayed sober, worked hard and got a full scholarship to college."

She pointed at her chest. "It was my choice to ruin my life, I chose to screw around and drink my way into being expelled from high school. Getting sent to jail, my fault. I made those choices and shit happened to me that I deserved. She didn't choose what happened to her, but she overcame it. Unlike you, I want my sister to be happy because I love her, and I don't expect her to cater to my problems. I will do anything to help her be happy! And don't you forget it, biyatch!"

The woman fish-mouthed at Trixie as the leader of the meeting stood up. "Trixie, we don't judge each other."

"That fuucking cow just said my sister doesn't deserve to be happy!" Trixie snapped then she pointed directly at the woman before gesturing at everyone. "Bernie deserves to be happy more than anyone in this room. He raped and almost killed her, then our alcoholic mother blamed her for getting raped before she almost killed them both drunk driving. Bernie overcame all that happened to her and is still overcoming it without becoming a drunk or addict like us. Look at us, we all chose to screw up our lives, that is why we're here. But not Bernie, she chose the better way."

Carlos was already beside Trixie and trying to guide her out as she spat hateful words.

"I... I'm sorry..." The woman stammered, "I didn't know."

"Then don't spout stupid selfish shit because you're a self-centered drunk-ass biyatch!" Trixie yelled back into the room from the door.

"Enough, Trixie!" Carlos scolded. Three of the other group members followed them.

"Hey, she started it. If she wants a go, we can go! I don't care if I go back to jail, nobody talks crap about Bernie... Doesn't deserve to be happy... What the hell was that?"

"Okay, calm down. You shouldn't attack her. These meetings are supposed to be a safe space. She is new to the group and has a lot of issues, she doesn't know anything about anyone or their families," one of the sponsors defended the woman.

"Then why did she open her mouth?" Trixie snarled. "The first words out of her mouth attacked my sister."

"Let's sit down and talk this out, Trixie." Carlos suggested, "What happened that has you so worried about your sister?"

Trixie slumped down in a chair. "Yesterday, Bernie dropped her fiancé off at the airport and on her way home, she was in an accident. Some guy driving drunk killed himself and a guy in another car. Bernie was lucky to survive with only whiplash. My sister could have died before her happily ever after because some guy had too many beers with lunch and ran a red light trying to get back to his job. I freaking hate people who drive drunk. I hate myself because I do it. My mom died drunk driving, she almost killed Bernie two hours before she drove into a ravine. I got hurt because my friend was driving drunk, and now Bernie almost died again! I lost my license at a checkpoint, and I deserved to lose it. I'm here because I have to be, the only reason I am not drinking now is because I have to pee in a cup every other day. I know I'm going to die young, but I want my sister... I want her to be happy and grow old happy and die happy."

Carlos and the three sponsors looked back and forth between each other. "Trixie, you have to want to stay sober, you have so much to live for."

Trixie just rolled her eyes. "I know you mean well, papa Carlos, but it isn't true. The only thing I live for is my sister. I am an alcoholic sex-addict in a dead in job, living with a dying grandmother, a G.E.D. and no driver's license. As soon as this gets done, I am going to find a Memorial Day party, get plastered out of my mind, and get screwed until I can't walk."

"Trixie, you can't mean it?" Another sponsor named Lydia insisted. "You'll be so close to your first six-months."

Trixie shrugged, "So? It won't be the first or the last time I've kicked the Big S to the curb. I appreciate that you all enjoy the sober life, but it isn't for me. I still have nightmares every night unless I drink and get screwed to the point I don't care anymore. Honestly, I just want to sleep through the night again and I can't do it without help."