the time. Out of the city, the air is fresh and the pace less hectic. and more importantly, his office isn’t at the end of an elevator ride. I agreed it might be the best place for him to rest. But I guess it shows what I know as he barely looks up from his laptop. We’re camped out in the den—at least, that’s what I’m calling it when I pretend this house is really mine—for the fourth day since his discharge. He can’t seem to settle anywhere. The light is too bright in the kitchen and for some (stubborn) reason, he doesn’t want the drapes closed in any of the other rooms. He sniffed at my suggestion we sit in the shade of the pergola and snarled when I said Rhett might bring him his sunglasses and a hat next time he visited.
Basically, I’m living with a monosyllabic teenager. I guess I wouldn’t be fun to be around after what he’s just been through. But if I thought he was hard to understand before, right now, he’s downright baffling.
I put down the magazine I’m reading and flop to the opposite end of the grey sectional sofa to face him directly. Elbow bent, I rest my cheek on my hand. ‘You know you’re not supposed to use electronics for any length of time for the first week.’ So the doctor said, though I won’t invoke his name because we all know he’s just a charlatan . . .
He probably got his medical license in a Paris flea market, right?
‘I’m just dealing with emails. A business doesn’t run itself.’ He doesn’t once look my way. Not even a glance.
‘So, that was no to the bath then?’
This time, our eyes connect over his open laptop. ‘It depends where your motivation is coming from.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Is it a desire to get me naked, or a need to look after me?’
‘Do you care either way if I get a little handsy?’
‘I’m not sure I’d recognise the difference.’
‘Well, ouch.’ This isn’t a slight on my nursing skills but rather something else. Something we’ve probably been dancing around.
‘Remy.’ Since when have I begun to say his name so carefully? ‘You’re recovering from a second concussion—a second mild traumatic brain injury the doctor called it. You—we’ve—got to be careful.’
‘That’s exactly what I mean.’ His mouth firms, his eyes almost burning a hole in his screen.
‘I can see you’re in pain.’ I find myself chewing on the inside of my lip, but I can’t keep myself from speaking. ‘And you’re taking the pills, so I know your head still aches. The doctor said it would take up to two weeks. You need to rest your brain and your body, avoid driving, strenuous mental activities’—I point at this laptop—‘and physical activities, too.’
‘I know. I read the leaflet, too. But I’m tired of being treated like porcelain.’
‘You’ve only been out of the hospital for four days!’
‘I’ve been out of your bed for much longer. I want to feel your love, Rose. Not just hear you utter it as you press a kiss to my forehead when you hand me a glass of water, or we turn in for the night.’
‘Is worrying about you, looking after you, not showing love, too?’
‘You confuse it with pity.’
‘That’s unfair, and you know it.’
‘It took this accident for you to admit your feelings—’
‘You think I told you I love you because I felt sorry for you?’
I know I shouldn’t be raising my voice, I know all about neurological fatigue, pain, and the possibility of overstimulation because I’ve spent hours on the internet trying to prepare myself for what to expect. Yet, this is no whisper-shout.
‘I knew you loved me well before you told me,’ the arrogant ass retorts. ‘Are you glaring, or do you have something in your eye?’
‘Yes, it’s called murder.’
His gaze runs critically across my face, almost examining me. ‘It isn’t conceit. I knew it when I saw how much hurt my foolishness brought you. But now I’ve heard it from your own lips, I want nothing more than the evidence of it. I crave it like a physical thing. I’m not breakable, Rose. And I want you like I’ve wanted nothing else.’
I realise he’s right in that sickening instant. I’ve been treating him like an invalid, scared to touch him, maybe even afraid he wouldn’t be the same man. Frightened that he was almost taken from me. Fearful because I hadn’t told him what he meant to me.