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It wasn’t the first time Javier had left you waiting for a date night, but this was the first time you sat in your shared apartment, having done your makeup and wearing your favorite dress, and waited for over an hour without a call. By now you had definitely missed your dinner reservation.
To make matters worse, you had called his mobile phone twice, only for it to be picked up by someone at the station saying that he wasn’t in and had left his phone there.
He must have gotten caught up with something at work and was out in the town doing a stakeout or something. You shouldn’t complain about it, it was his job after all, but you hated how many times he would promise the night off with you and it would turn into waiting up for him on the couch until you drifted asleep, waking up the next morning somehow curled up in an empty bed. The reality was that you missed Javier.
You walked back to the bathroom to start taking off your makeup, debating what restaurant you should call to get takeout from when the phone rang.
You rushed over to pick it up.
“Hey, babe.” It was a familiar voice.
“Javi, thank god,” you exhaled. “Where are you?”
“Sorry, I can’t make it tonight,” he said.
“Why not?”
“I got stabbed and I’m on my way to the hospital.”
You almost dropped the receiver. He had said it with the stability and tranquility of someone reading a book on a porch in the country, not someone on the way to the hospital, bleeding out.
“…Javi? What the hell? Where? What hospital?”
“Central,” he said, and you could hear his voice waver a bit.
“Right, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay?” you said.
“Can you just stay on the phone with me?”
Fuck. That’s what people say in the movies when they know they’re going to die, right?
“Javi, I—”
“I’m fine,” he said. “But if you rush now you’re going to be waiting for me to come out of surgery or whatever they need to do. I’d rather hear your voice right now.”
You reached up to wipe the tears from your eyes.
“Right. Okay,” you nodded. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. You know that” you said, smiling.
“I do. It was really clear last night.”
You giggled. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. When you threw flour at me and then pushed me onto the countertop and kissed me? It was 1am and you were baking and everything smelled amazing.”
You closed your eyes, remembering how he had come home late to see you stress baking, and the cookies were in the oven. When they came out he took one straight from the pan and burnt himself. You hadn’t stopped laughing that night, not until you were curled up under the blankets in your bedroom, his arm tight around your waist as he told you that you were going to do a date night today before you fell asleep. You hadn’t had a night like that in weeks.
“I love you more, Javi.”
“Impossible,” he said.
“I don’t think so,” you smiled. It was almost enough to forget that Javi was probably bleeding out. Probably in a lot of pain.
“I want us to do more nights like that,” he said.
“Me too.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it tonight.”
“Javi, don’t apologize for getting stabbed,” you chided.
“I’m not. I’m apologizing for not being there,” he said.
“It’s okay—”
“Hey, um, I need to hang up now, we’re at the hospital. You don’t have to come. It’s late.
“I’ll be there. Okay. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Bye.”