Chapter 159: No Regrets With You

Eleanor‘s POV

Julian smirked. "I'm resting. This is very restful."

I swatted his shoulder lightly. "Julian."

He shifted slightly, wincing but still grinning. "Besides, the important parts still work."

My eyes widened. "Julian!"

"What?" He laughed. "I'm just saying, the stab wounds were all upper body. Everything below the belt is fully operational."

He gestured vaguely toward his lap with his good hand.

My face burned. "You're impossible. You're lying in a hospital bed with three stab wounds and you're thinking about—"

"About you?" He interrupted, still grinning. "Yeah. Always."

I tried to look stern but failed. "You're such a pervert."

"You love it." His voice was confident.

I opened my mouth to deny it, then stopped. "Unfortunately, yes. I apparently have terrible taste in men."

"The worst," Julian agreed. "Absolutely tragic."

We were both smiling now, the tension of the past day dissolving into familiar banter.

"But seriously, Elle." His voice softened. "You do like this side of me, don't you? The less... proper side?"

I considered the question. "I like all your sides. Even the inappropriate ones."

"Good." His grin returned. "Because I seem to remember that's how I seduced you in the first place."

I laughed. "Seduced? Is that what you're calling it?"

"I'll have you know my seduction skills are legendary."

"Your seduction skills involved annoying me for ten years and then kissing me at a party."

"And it worked, didn't it?"

I couldn't argue with that.

---

A nurse dropped off breakfast at nine a.m: bland hospital fare Julian needed to eat to build his strength. I set the tray neatly, poured a glass of water, and cranked up the hospital bed.

Julian watched me with obvious affection. "You know I can feed myself, right? Only my arms got stabbed, not my hands."

I picked up the spoon. "You're recovering from major surgery. Let me do this."

He grinned. "Touché."

I scooped up some congee and brought it to his mouth. He accepted it with exaggerated obedience, eyes never leaving my face.

"You know," he said after swallowing, "I could get used to this."

"To what? Hospital food?"

"To you taking care of me. Me being completely at your mercy."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"Can you blame me?" His voice was warm. "Eleanor Sterling, Greenwich princess, personally feeding me breakfast. I must have done something right in a past life."

After a few more spoonfuls, Julian leaned back carefully against the raised bed—the movement small, controlled, mindful of the fresh surgical wounds across his chest and shoulders. "This is surreal. I literally did nothing except nearly die, and now I'm getting the full princess treatment."

"What do you mean 'did nothing'?" I paused mid-spoonful. "You saved my life."

Julian lifted his good hand slightly in dismissal, the IV line shifting with the small motion. "Details. The point is, I'm lying here, injured and pathetic, and you're still here. Taking care of me. Being perfect."

"You're not pathetic."

"I stabbed myself three times because I couldn't think of a better plan. That's pretty pathetic."

My voice caught. "Don't. Don't make jokes about it."

I set down the spoon, my hand trembling slightly. Julian noticed immediately, his expression softening.

"Hey. I'm sorry. Too soon?"

"Way too soon." I took a breath. "I can still see you raising that knife to your chest. I can still hear the sound it made when—"

My voice broke.

Julian's fingers brushed against mine where they rested on the tray table. "Elle. I'm okay. I'm right here."

I gripped his hand. "You almost weren't. If you'd made that fourth cut—"

"But I didn't. You stopped me."

"Barely."

Julian squeezed my hand gently, then deliberately changed the subject. "So. Are you going to finish feeding me, or am I going to starve?"

I managed a small smile. "Starve? It's been two minutes."

"I'm a growing boy. I need sustenance."

"You're eighteen. You're done growing."

"Horizontal growth counts."

"That's called getting fat."

Julian looked mock-offended. "Wow. Body shaming your injured fiancé. That's low, Red."

I brought the next spoonful to his mouth, but his comment made me pause. "You know what's really unfair?"

"What?"

"I went through all that trauma, nearly died, and I didn't even get a dramatic death scene. No last words, no tearful goodbye. Just... unconscious. Very anticlimactic."

I set down the spoon. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm just saying, if I'm going to almost die, I should at least get some good material out of it."

I reached over and lightly tapped the back of his hand—the one without the IV. "Don't say things like that. Don't even joke about dying."

Julian caught my fingers before I could pull away, his grip gentle but firm despite the surgical tape and monitoring wires. "Okay, okay. No more death jokes. I promise."

He lowered his head slightly, pressing his lips to my knuckles. "But seriously, Elle. Thank you. For being here. For not leaving."

My voice was thick. "Where else would I be?"

"I don't know. Somewhere safer. Somewhere that doesn't involve hospital rooms and near-death experiences."

"Julian Vance," I said firmly, "I am exactly where I want to be."

We continued in comfortable silence, me feeding him small bites, him accepting each one with exaggerated gratitude that made me smile despite everything.

When the bowl was finally empty, Julian settled back carefully against the pillows with a satisfied sigh. "Okay, I take it back. Hospital food is terrible. But the company makes up for it."

I snorted. "Smooth."

He grinned. "I try."

---

Julian had been quiet for a few minutes, just watching me as I tidied up the breakfast tray. Finally, he spoke, voice more serious than before.

"Elle. Can I ask you something?"

I turned to him. "Of course."

"Do you..." He hesitated. "Do you have any regrets?"

"About what?"

"About us. About getting engaged."

I sat back down, taking his hand. "Why would I have regrets?"

Julian didn't meet my eyes. "Because I didn't do it right. There was no proper proposal, no romantic setting. Just... me asking you at a family dinner because I couldn't wait anymore."

He paused. "And then all of this happened. The kidnapping, the hospital. Not exactly the fairy tale engagement you probably imagined."

"Julian—"

"You deserve better than this," he continued. "Better than me nearly dying forty-eight hours after we got engaged. Better than hospital rooms and blood and trauma."

I shifted my chair closer, cupping his face with both hands. "Listen to me. You are the person I chose. The person I want. And I would choose you again, every single time."

"Even after all this?"

"Especially after all this."

I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his. "I don't need a perfect proposal or a fairy tale engagement. I don't need grand gestures or romantic settings. I just need you."

I paused. "You asked me if I have regrets. The only thing I regret is not realizing sooner how much I loved you. Not seeing what was right in front of me for all those years."

Julian's hand came up slowly to cover mine, his thumb stroking across my knuckles. "You really mean that?"

"Every word."

"Even though I'm reckless and impulsive and apparently have a talent for nearly getting killed?"

I smiled. "Even though."

Julian drew me closer with a slight tug of his hand. "God, I love you."

"I love you too."