Read Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2) for Free Online Page A

checkup, Jude. I have them every month, which seems a bit of an overkill anyway.”
    He ignored my comment about the frequency of doctor visits and sighed. “I know, but I always go with you.”
    Briefly setting the plate down, I looked up at him. “I know, and I appreciate it, but go spend a little time with your mom. She doesn’t come into the city that often anymore. Take her to Bloomingdale’s and get some shopping done. I’ll meet you for lunch.”
    He let out an audible shudder. “I can’t believe she chose this day. Of all the days to shop, she had to pick this one.”
    “Maybe she wants a bargain?” I offered up as a reason his mother would drive into the city on Black Friday, the busiest shopping day of the year, to spend the day with her son.
    “A deal? At Bloomingdale’s and Saks? I doubt that.”
    “Well, maybe she just misses you. We did ditch her on Thanksgiving this year—and there is the little issue of Christmas.”
    He rolled his eyes, rising from his spot on the bed, and he walked toward the closet. I took the time to appreciate his backside, covered only in boxers. He was just as handsome as the first day I’d met him—tall, muscular with a hint of danger swirling around those black tattoos angling down his arm.
    “We did not ditch her. I asked if she wouldn’t mind if we had dinner here. She chose to stay in the country with friends.”
    “I know. She told me, and she was actually excited about it. She said it was the first time she wouldn’t have to worry about planning a menu in years. Notice that I didn’t say cook. ” I laughed.
    “She never cooked, but she’d still make herself sick while planning every damn detail for the holidays. She wanted everything to be absolutely special for us.”
    “And was it?” I asked, picking my plate back up to gobble up the last of my potatoes.
    “Of course. She loved seeing us happy.”
    “Runs in the family,” I said.
    “Well, some of us,” he commented.
    “Give him time, Jude. He might surprise you just yet.”
    “Maybe, but I’m not holding my breath.”
    As he returned to the bathroom to shower, my attention turned to the windows near our bed. I couldn’t help but look out onto the city and wonder if, somewhere in that sea of people, someone was out there for Roman, someone who could find the man I knew he wanted to become.

    The first time I had gone swimming in the ocean was about a year ago. Jude and I, back from our adventures in Ireland, had flown to Santa Monica to visit my mom and Marcus for the weekend.
    We’d spent two days with them, enthralling them with stories and pictures of our visit to the Emerald Isle. Of course, I couldn’t say no when they’d begged me to share the epic way in which Jude had proposed to me. It had been a lovely weekend, and it had gotten even more perfect when Jude asked me to take a walk along the beach that Sunday afternoon.
    We’d dipped our toes in the ocean, remembering the first time we’d been here together.
    Suddenly, he’d said, “Let’s go swimming!”
    “Like right now?” I’d asked, not bothering to cover my laughter.
    “Yeah. Why the hell not?”
    I’d had no answer, so on that seasonably hot afternoon in September, we’d jumped into the waves, fully clothed in the warm ocean. I’d never felt the surge of water hitting my chest, and I’d had no idea how to duck under an oncoming swell of white water.
    I remember holding my breath as we’d dived further into the surf and that wonderful gasp of fresh air that had followed as we broke the surface once again.
    Since my heart transplant, I’d experience that same feeling each and every time I visited the doctor.
    Sitting in this uncomfortable green chair, my foot nervously bobbing up and down, was like sitting at the bottom of the ocean. I felt like I hadn’t taken a single breath of air since I left home.
    So far, I hadn’t had a reason to doubt anything, yet that was exactly what I did.
    Everything was perfect. I