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"Yeah, we should. We tired you enough for one day."
"So, to the bedroom?"
I cleared my throat and shifted from one leg to another feeling uncomfortable.
"I was thinking...Rita, maybe I should take the guest room for a while." All the joy on her face dripped down the drain in an instant, and I immediately regretted my words. I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to take advantage of her either.
"What?"
"I just want you to feel comfortable. Take your time to get reacquainted with...everything"
"Fine." The answer was drier than the Sahara Desert. "Just let me grab the baby monitor so I can hear when Chelsea wakes up."
"I can do that." I said without thinking. I was just used to do it on my own. Avery was not a big fan of waking up in the middle of the night to bottle feed our daughter. Obviously, my answer did not please Rita one bit.
"You think I can't do it?"
"Love, I'm just saying you need to rest. You had a serious head injury."
"Whatever. You are right anyway."
She turned on her heels and bolted through the bedroom door. I didn’t even have time to call out her name. The only thing that was left to do was tell myself that it was for the best. In the last seventy-two hours, I had told myself that a lot.
I brought Rita home with me because Chelsea needs a mother. I brought her to Chicago because no one came to look for her in the hospital. No one even fucking called. This is for the best.
When I got to the guest bedroom and lay on the bed, I was thinking that despite all the stupid shit I'd done, my bed was still cold. If I stretched my hand to the other side of the bed there was still no one there.
I woke up from the worst fucking sleep with my head groggy and heavy. Maybe I should have thought something of it since I slapped my big ass forehead on the pavement not so long ago, but I blamed it on James. I went to sleep furious, and it probably raised my blood pressure.
Yep, I blamed it on James. The man kept blowing me off, and I couldn’t keep myself from spiraling over it. Was it just his protectiveness, or was there something more behind it? Well...I couldn’t fucking remember.
Fury was replaced with pain and shame when I remembered him jumping at the chance to take the baby monitor. It reminded me once again that I was pretty useless. I knew that it was a good thing that James was watching over her - hell, I didn’t even know where the diapers were - but could you blame me for feeling like crap over it?
I got it, ok? I was only half a woman, and my husband - this man I didn’t remember ever seeing – was more gentle and understanding than I deserved, but he was treating me with a thick pair of gloves, and it was not helping. Now the shock was gone, and I needed to feel like I was regaining at least a small piece of my life back. So fuck it! This ended today.
Cracking my neck like a fighter ready to hit the ring, I got my ass up from the bed and washed my face. The cold water dripped down my face, taking every trace of hesitation down the drain with it, and I was grateful for that.
I grabbed the silky robe that was hanging on the bathroom door and threw it over the matching short pajamas that I found in the closet. A huge closet I might add, split between me and my husband, and judging by the dresses and all the fancy pairs of shoes I found, I was a spoiled housewife. How did this happen? The Rita I remember used to wear worn out jeans shorts and flip flops. I guessed the wife of an elite surgeon wouldn't.
The sound of a baby giggling showed me the way to James, who was in the kitchen, looking more relaxed and domestic than yesterday. The perfect, immaculate shirt was gone, replaced by a pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, that embraced his upper body like a second skin.
Damn! How did this man manage to be a nerd and a hottie at the same time?
His hair was messed up, and there was something green on his face that frankly looked disgusting, but James was still a vision for the sore eyes. The image of him trying to convince his - our - daughter to eat that concoction almost made me forget that I was here to set this fool straight.
I lost a lot, but I remembered one thing. I was never one to sit around and hope; I was a go getter, and right then, I wanted to go and get him.
James saw me standing in the door and looked up with a hesitant smile, almost like he felt guilty.
"Good morning. I hope we didn't wake you up with all the noise and fuss we're making this morning. Chelsea hates mornings."
"She takes after her mother." I said, and he gave me a sideways look. "What time is it anyway?"
"Eight-thirty, you should have stayed in bed more."
"I don't have a handicap, James; not a physical one anyways." Unintentionally, I snapped at him.
"I'm...sorry. I never meant to make you feel weird, Rita. I'm just worried. Maybe you don't show signs, but injuries to the head can be tricky sometimes." Here came the doctor talk. "I will be more at ease after I get you to a specialist. I can call a friend today and set an appointment."
