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control of his left hand again. The control he has as of now will become more refined, but I doubt he’ll be able to squeeze his hand into a proper fist again. We’ll put him in physical therapy once his arm is healed to help stimulate his hand, but I make no promises.” Tom nodded, his uninjured hand tightening into a fist between my own. I pressed my lips tightly together and tried not to look panicked. Tom was losing control of his hand? But that would mean…
     
    “I suppose that means no more bodyguard work, then,” said Tom, finishing my thought for me. The doctor nodded - his expression sympathetic.
     
    “I’ll leave you to think, please, take all the time you need, and let the nurses know if you need anything.” He nodded and ducked back out the door.
     
    Once he was gone, Tom let out a low sigh and his entire body slumped against his elevated hospital pillows. “I can’t say I’m surprised, really,” said Tom. “I can barely feel my left arm anymore, and I know I can’t pull my hand into a fist. I’ll just be glad if I can move it at all after all this.” I nodded.
     
    “Whatever you need, I’m here for you,” I said.
     
    “As am I,” said my father.
     
    Tom smiled at both of us and turned his good hand over to curl around my own. “Thank you, but, for now, I’m just glad to be alive.”
     
    “So am I,” I mumbled, curling close to him and resting my head on his shoulder. And I was. Even if Tom could never work as a bodyguard again, he still had his life, and he had me. We’d figure the rest out.
     
     

Epilogue
     
    The early morning sun shone brightly, reflecting off the ocean as it brushed against the white sandy beach. I leaned against the balcony railing, staring down at the beach not a two-minute walk from the hotel. My housecoat – the only clothing I wore – fluttered in the morning breeze. But I was alone outside, so I didn’t worry if I accidentally flashed the ocean.
     
    “Michelle?” The low, grumbling sound of morning voice roused me from my staring. I turned and cracked a smile at Tom, who was half sitting up in the lush bed in our hotel room. The sheets slid down his shoulders and bare chest, revealing a patchwork of scars. The newest was the scar on his left shoulder, where a bullet had struck him and then been dug out by paramedics. He smiled when he saw me smiling and rubbed one eye. The beginnings of a beard marked his face, aging him in a rough, outdoorsy sort-of way.
     
    “Good morning,” I said. My voice was gentle and just loud enough for him to hear.
     
    “Good morning,” he replied. A yawn escaped him and he stretched upward, shaking off the sleep that no doubt still clung to his skin and his mind. “How long have you been up?”
     
    “Long enough to know you drool in your sleep,” I replied.
     
    Reflexively, he wiped off the side of his mouth with his right arm. “You already knew that, though.”
     
    I leaned against the door frame, folding my arms loosely beneath my chest. “Yeah, I did. Never gets old though.” I didn’t bother to keep the fondness from my voice. Even now, several months after Tom had been shot, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I could lose him any day sometimes. It wasn’t a constant, nagging thing though, but it was there from time to time. That feeling had made me realize a few things. First, that I loved Tom, though I had admitted that to him back at the hospital. Second, that I didn’t want to spend my life without Tom. And third, that so long as Tom was around, I didn’t have to worry about my father constantly nagging me. Without that nagging, we’d grown closer. He’d even sprang for this lovely vacation so that Tom and I could spend some time away from the paparazzi who were so intent on discovering the secrets behind the senator’s daughter and her new beau.
     
    “What are you thinking about?” asked Tom, no doubt seeing the faraway look in my eyes.
     
    “Just… what brought us here, I