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A swell of emotion hit when his words registered. Shocked didn’t really cover it. I felt guilty for rambling about eating damn sandwiches when the whole time he was waiting to tell me this startling fact.
Why had he waited this long to tell me?
“Wha-Wha— What do the doctors say?” I finally spluttered while choking on the pain I felt for him. The pain I saw on his crumpled face as he admitted those things.
“What do you think they say?” He scoffed bitterly, and I reared back. I knew he was upset, and of course it all made so much more sense now, but I didn’t deserve to be his whipping post.
So, in hopes of bringing the tension around us down to a manageable level, I calmly said, “Listen, I’m not trying to upset you. I’m trying to understand what we’re dealing with here. What kind of work we have ahead of us.”
“What’s this us?” he mocked, and I cocked my head to the side, trying to reconcile this one-hundred-eighty-degree change from the loving man who had greeted me not ten minutes before. The man who couldn’t get enough of me and the smell he missed so much. But that ugly tone he just took with me really pissed me off.
“Do you think I’d walk out that door because of what you just told me?” I asked angrily. “Firstly,” I continued, not letting him actually answer the question. I strode back toward his bed with a good amount of hurt fueling my frustration. “I care about you. Do you not get that? That isn’t turned on and off based on inconsequential details.”
“Inconsequential?”
“Secondly,” I listed, refusing to be deterred. “What kind of human would that make me? Do you think so little of me?”
That was the possibility that stung the most. How could he not know unequivocally that I would stick it out alongside him regardless of a challenge like this? Whether the paralysis was permanent or temporary, it didn’t change the man I was falling for.
Though, if he didn’t recalibrate the tone he was taking with me, I’d have to rethink my conviction.
Andrew sighed heavily and studied his folded hands resting in his lap. He went through a couple of cycles of deep breathing, and I could appreciate he was regrouping in what I prayed was an effort to not spew any more venom my way.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he finally whispered.
“Sorry? What was that?” I asked, hand propped on my hip with a lot of sass. I gave him a quick wink to let him know I was trying to lighten the air in here.
He couldn’t contain the slow grin that spread across his sinful lips. Instantly my stomach clenched, remembering the talented mouth I was staring at.
“Who would’ve known you’re such a ballbuster under all that fluff?”
This time, when I went back to his bed, I didn’t stop until I was lying beside him. I needed his embrace as much if not more than he needed mine. I hated arguing. With anyone. But shouting at each other was so unproductive when the true emotion needing to be addressed was fear.
When I was settled in his arms, I laid my head on his chest and listened to his strong heartbeat. “Please, Andrew. Tell me what your doctors expect for your recovery, unless you absolutely don’t want to talk about it. Then I will respect your wishes. But you have to know, you can’t get rid of me with a few ill-mannered comments. I’m in it for the duration, man.”
“Ill-mannered, huh? Don’t tell my mother. She and Mara will gang up on me and torture me as punishment,” he said and kissed the side of my head.
I looked up to find his lips with mine and pressed into him. We kissed slowly, passionately, for a few minutes until I finally pulled back and asked, “Who is Mara?”
Thinking it would be one of his mother’s friends, since I knew he didn’t have siblings, I was surprised to hear it was the physical therapist assigned to his case. A pang of jealousy shot through me, and I instantly shut that shit down.
In the past, I’d had an ugly jealousy streak based on my own insecurities. There was no room for those immature feelings or accusations in our relationship. I knew that would be another benefit of dating an older man. No game playing. Or at least no childish, destructive game playing. Now…if he wanted to play some naughty games, I’d be on board for that.
“What’s this grin, Ms. Farsey? You look like you’re up to something in here.” He tapped my temple while we lay nose to nose.
“Oh, busted. I was thinking naughty, sexy thoughts. Just being close to you ignites my core. It’s so amazing and unfamiliar. I think that makes these feelings even more exciting.”
We spent the next hour in bed like that. Chaste kissing naturally led to desperate groping and making out. We giggled in between naughty promises and sincere declarations. By the time I was humping his leg with his enthusiastic encouragement, we were both panting like we’d run a marathon.
Without warning, the door to his room swung open, and I leaped off the bed like I’d been jolted with an electrical current.
“Smooth, darling,” Andrew teased while I did a quick once-over to smooth down my dress.
“Oh, dear, I guess I should’ve knocked. My apologies,” Mrs. Chaplin said and walked over to her son. “How are you feeling, dear? Besides the obvious?”
I was so thankful I was watching their exchange, because I saw the quick wink and mischievous grin she shot her son. I still felt like a teenager getting caught by my folks, although my dad would’ve dragged the boy out by the collar of his shirt and not sneaked an approving nod.
Guess that was the difference between forty-two and sixteen, though. Really, his mother should be the embarrassed one here for not knocking before entering her adult son’s room. Good God, what if we’d been doing more than we were?
