His Perfect Match Read Free Page B

watched the antics, trying to suppress her own grin. “And such a graceful winner at that.” She knew in her heart that she would gladly lose a million chess games for that laughter. Although, there was no need to try to lose. Marc was exceptionally good at the game.
    Ignoring her words, he poked his thumbs at his chest. “Winner.” Then pointed both index fingers at his mother sitting across the board from him. “Loser!”
    â€œYou shouldn’t call your mother a loser, Marc.” A gravelly voice came from across the room.
    â€œHi, Aunt Dee,” Marc was still grinning as his great-aunt came to the bed and wrapped him in a hug. “Mom lost—again. You’d think she would’ve learned by now.”
    â€œLearned what exactly?” Liz asked folding her arms across her chest, and accepting a light kiss on the cheek from her aunt.
    â€œI’m the master! You’ll never beat me.”
    â€œMarc.” Delia frowned down at her nephew. “Your tone is disrespectful.”
    â€œThat’s okay, Aunt Dee.” Liz smiled deviously. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat—or a chess master.”
    Marc’s playful smile disappeared. “Meaning?”
    â€œMeaning, if your Xbox 360 ever goes missing—” Liz widened her eyes in a poor attempt to look innocent “—I don’t know what happened to it.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t.”
    He looked so stricken Liz reached across the board and hugged him. “Of course not, I just wanted to bring you down a peg or two.” She leaned back and looked at him. “Did it work?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œGood.” She stood up beside the bed. “You need to know that in the chess game of life…Mom always wins.”
    â€œThat’s because she cheats.”
    Just then a nurse appeared in the doorway. “Okay, Marc, the doctor’s released you. See you Thursday,” she said as she removed the needle from his arm and pushed the dialysis machine aside.
    â€œThanks!” With a leap Marc was out of bed and headed across the room to the chair that held his shoes and coat.
    â€œSlow down, tiger.” Liz rushed over to help him into his coat, ever mindful of his thin arms that she knew were sore where the needles for his dialysis were inserted twice a week, leaving them visibly bruised.
    Marc crawled into the chair and waited patiently while his mother tied his sneakers. “Can we play in the snow when we get home?”
    Liz’s eyes widened as she glanced up at her aunt whoonly shook her head in response. Given the draining procedure he’d just endured Liz could not imagine where he got the energy to want to play in the snow.
    â€œNot today, sweetie.” She stood and pulled on her heavy winter coat. “How about we rent a movie on the way home, instead?”
    â€œNo way,” he called over his shoulder already headed for the doorway. “Tonight’s wrestling night, right, Aunt Dee?”
    â€œYou got that right,” Dee agreed, as the trio headed for the elevators.
    â€œAlright, Aunt Dee, I’ll meet you downstairs.” Liz glanced down an adjoining hall.
    She turned and headed down the hall, pulling on her winter knit cap as she spoke to the nurses she passed in the hall, realizing she knew them all by name. And why wouldn’t she, considering how much time Marc spent in this ward?
    Her bright, beautiful boy had spent over half his short life in and out of hospitals, and yet he managed to remain upbeat and optimistic. Most of the time. Sometimes the pain from the dialysis needles was so intense, even the most spirited people were brought to their knees. And Liz spent every treatment holding his hand and praying that God would somehow transfer the pain into her body instead of his.
    As she approached the end of the hall she passed through a set of double doors leading to the intensive care unit. She paused at the