All You Need Is Love Read Online Free

long-distance.
    “As you know, Mable’s been having a pretty rough time after the second mastectomy,” Margaret says. It’s clear form her soft tone and gentle way of touching my hand that she’s done this before. I’m kicking myself for not taking Chris up on his offer to come with me. I just felt guilty asking him to drive yet again with me when he could be working, wallowing, or crushing on campus.
    I nod at Margaret. “You can just say what you need to say. I probably know it already anyway.”
    Margaret’s expression changes. “Oh, you do? Well, then, I think I say for everyone here that we’re sorry. And we wish it had worked out.”
    I start to bawl. Margaret puts her arms around me. “Were you and Miles close?”
    I pull back and look at her. ‘What?”
    “You and Miles — Mable’s fiancé — were you close with him? I know you were going to be a bridesmaid and…”
    My world is spinning and I am close to barfing in the family lounge area. “I’m so confused — what are you talking about? How does Miles factor into anything if Mable’s in a coma — or worse?” Even saying the words makes me need to sit down. My dad should be here with me. Isn’t it illegal to tell bad news to a minor? I need an emotional judge for this ruling.
    Margaret covers her face. “I’m so sorry, Love. On behalf of Mass General and myself, I apologize that you inferred that. Mable is actually much better — she turned a corner last night and is up and talking.”
    I’m doing breathing that’s close to mutt-pants (note to self, do not make joke about mutt pants being a new trend — first boot cut, now Mutt Pants) — “So then what’s the bad news? Why the grief-talk?”
    Margaret clicks her tongue. “She broke it off with Miles.”
    “Again?” I shake my head. “I don’t care — just let me see her.”
    “Of course,” Margaret waits for me to stand up and leads me past the nurses’ station and over the cold linoleum tiles towards Mable. “I think she thought you’d be upset, that you were looking forward to being in the wedding.”
    “That’s the furthest thing from my mind,” I say and walk through Mable’s door to find her sitting up spooning Jell-o from a small plastic cup into her mouth. Her face is still pale, her lips dry. She’s cogent and cheerful, better than she has been since I’ve been back, though and talks fast to prove it.
    “I forgot how good raspberry flavor is!” Mable says and gestures with the wobbly dessert like it’s champagne. “Of course, you probably spell flavor with a u — that’s so British. Like neighbour and colour. I went through a horrid phase in my early twenties of spelling everything Britishly. I know. Britishly is not a word. But I did — I spelled color c-o-l-o-u-r and everything. So lame!” She smiles at me; a real, full-on smile and I grin back.
    “You’re insane! It’s like, I’m unconscious — no I’m not, now I’m awake and speed-speaking!” I say and rush over and hug her, careful not to do it too hard lest I disturb any of the tubes. I haven’t seen her awake like this in so long; even when I visited before, she didn’t really know I was there, although she did mumble a lot.
    “I’m not insane — well, not completely. I’m so glad to see you, British Lady.” She pats my hair and I feel her familiar hand on my head and start to cry. I’m just a flood these days and I can’t help it.
    “Oh no, Love,” Mable lets me sob a little, Margaret excuses herself and I just wail. “I’m okay. I’m going to be okay.”
    I sit up and sniffle, unable to let go of Mable’s hand. “I’ll tell you about the situation between me and Miles in a second. First, let’s talk a little about this summer — Slave to the Grind is waiting for you.”
    “And Arabella, right? She can still come?”
    “Of course,” Mable says. Then she pulls the nurse button and I panic again. “It’s nothing health-related, Love.” When Margaret reappears Mable