When she was finally discharged, two days after Dr. Bennett promised, the ride home seemed so full of color and beauty, she felt new, her nose practically pressed against the window. It was summer! It was so green! The sky was unbelievably blue, and it seemed like every business and residence was in a competition for most beautiful window box. You could almost forget what season it was when you were hospitalized.

Sarah had been at the apartment, Josh told her, and when they went in, Lauren practically cried at the welcome sight of the place. It felt like she’d been gone for years, not ten days. Someone—Steph, no doubt—had baked a coffee cake, which was still warm and made the whole apartment smell like cinnamon. On the kitchen table, there was a vase full of yellow roses and a note that read, Welcome home, you two! in her mother-in-law’s blocky printing.

“Wow,” Lauren said. “I’m so happy.”

“Are you crying?” Josh asked. “Such a sap.”

“I am. And I’m stanky. Those CNAs did their best, but I do not smell good. See you soon, pretty boy.”

Oh, the shower, that beautiful shower. Lauren spent forty-five minutes shampooing, shaving her ridiculously furry legs and scrubbing her skin with the almond-lemony shower gel she loved. When she was finished, she was a little tired, but it was worth it. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Lauren looked out the window, the view so familiar and beloved. The formerly clear skies were clouding over, since New England could never make up her mind about weather.

Home. She’d never take it for granted again.

“Hello, big boy,” she said, walking into the kitchen in her silky pink robe, naked underneath. She wrapped her arms around Josh’s waist and pressed her face against his shoulder.

“Nope. First I feed you, then I shag you.”

“I accept.” She sat down to grilled salmon over an arugula salad, vegetable fried rice. It smelled like heaven—ginger and garlic—and suddenly she was ravenous.

“Who brought this?”

“I made it, thank you very much. I’m upping my cooking game.”

“Huh. Being hospitalized has its upsides.”

“Glad you think so.” He smiled. They were both so giddy that she was home that even a mention of her illness couldn’t put a damper on their moods. They ate—and ate—then had fat slices of coffee cake.

God, it was good. Josh cleared the dishes, then led her to the couch and pulled her back against his chest, his arms around her.

“Don’t I smell nice?” she asked. “Better than the hospital?”

“You do. Fish and flowers. My favorite combination.”

For a while, they just sat and looked out the big windows at the lights of the city, smeared by a thunderstorm. The distant rumble and pattering rain sounded so pretty and gentle.