Cynda and the City Doctor - Theodora Taylor Page 0,36
to love and raise in my father’s absence, standing on the porch. They both look worried.
“I’m fine,” I assure them, putting more strength into my voice than I actually feel.
Rhys chimes in, “Unfortunately, we’ve been exposed to a patient presenting with signs of COVID. We’ll both need to quarantine for a few days. More if the patient’s test comes back positive.”
He’s right, I realize. But…where will I stay if I can’t be in the house with the twins?
A answers my unspoken question for me. “So she’s staying with you until you know whether you got the Rona or not?”
“Yes, she is,” Rhys answers. His voice is flat and terse. “But she’ll be available to you as always. By mobile or text. We both will. E, you should have my number as well…”
E shoots me a significant look before pulling out her phone. I can almost hear her silently screaming, “OMG, Cyn, did you really score a quaranboo, just like I said?”
I totally didn’t. But it probably looks that way when Rhys takes me by the elbow and leads me to his door.
I haven’t been in the back house since I spruced it up in hopes of securing a tenant.
It looks much the same. One huge room, featuring a steel bed, a small kitchen, and a slightly larger living area. The living room was a little overstuffed with a couch and my old piano. But other than that, it was neat and ready for presentation. The only difference I can see is a wicker laundry basket sitting near the dresser drawer set. Rhys must have ordered online.
I stand in the middle of it all, looking around. Not knowing what to do.
“Let’s get you into the shower,” Rhys says, leading me into the tiny bathroom off the back of the small unit.
He’s right. I should shower. We both should. But I can’t bring myself to move.
Mavis…how long had she been laying out there before we got to her farm? What would have happened if we hadn’t shown up? The answer comes back, quick and brutal. She would have died. She would have died all alone.
Hands unzip my hoodie and lift my tank top over my head. Not mine. Rhys’s. Rhys is undressing me like a patient who can’t tend to herself.
Next, come my yoga pants. And then my bra and panties.
Rhys is a doctor, but he could have been a nurse I find out in those moments. He’s quick and efficient and doesn’t linger too long on my nakedness.
But even after he turns on the shower, I can’t make myself let go of his hand.
“I was alone when I got the news my father died,” I tell him. “The twin’s mom had passed out and the twins were too young to sit in a hospital with me…”
I pause…then raise my eyes to meet his as I quietly admit, “I don’t want to be alone right now while we’re waiting to hear about Mavis.”
Rhys looks at me, and I look back at him, knowing he has every right to tell me no.
But in the end, he doesn’t say anything. He strips out of the Raines-Jewish t-shirt. First his free arm, then he transfers our hold to his left hand so that he can strip out of that side too. He pushes his pants down after that and he somehow manages to get those off too without letting go of me.
And no, this isn’t like that. We’re not like that. But I have to put a lot of effort into not looking down.
The shower is small though, and we have no choice but to bump into each other as we close ourselves up inside.
His cock is a situation we both pretend not to notice between us as we scrub our bodies and hair with the body wash and shampoo Rhys has in his shower.
He must have brought all of his shower stuff in Europe. Everything on the bottles is written in French, and I know they don’t sell anything like that at Guadalajara general.
“All done?” he asks after I rinse the French shampoo out of my hair.
Good thing I cut it. Impromptu wash days weren’t a thing I could do easily when my hair was chemically straightened.
I mean to answer yes, I’m all done. But instead, I ask, “Why did I make pancakes? I should have gone straight there. She wasn’t answering the phone. And I knew in my gut something was wrong.”
Rhys shakes his head at me, as the spray continues to run