Limitless Love (Lotus House #4)(10)
A manly chuckle and cough followed behind me. “Whatever, dude. Lie to yourself all you want, won’t change a thing.” He followed behind me. “Got any more chicken? This shit is amazing,” he spoke through his lips as if he was still chewing.
“I hope you choke on it,” I growled, and he laughed hard, coughing his way through.
Admittedly I felt a little better at his discomfort.
“Monet and Clayton kissing in a tree…”
“Grow up,” I said.
“Don’t want to.”
“If you’re going to be a dad, you’d better learn real quick!” I shot back and set my bowl in the microwave to reheat my dinner.
That got his attention. “Mila has already told me she’ll make sure I’m a great one, and I believe anything that comes from the two of us is going to be good. With her, I’ll be okay.”
I slumped against the counter and looked at my friend. “I was just kidding. You’re going to be awesome, Atlas. Mostly because you want to be, and that’s all it takes. Caring for the little one more than yourself is what it’s all about. You’ll do fine. I have faith in you, man.”
“Can I take a bubble bath?” Lily screeched from behind Atlas. She was standing with her hands together in a prayer position. “Puh-leeeeeeeze! You can take one wif me!” Her blue eyes sparkled as she bounced between Atlas and me.
Both of us went dead silent. I thought I was scared earlier; this request terrified me. Sleeping fully clothed next to a five-year-old was one thing when you were her guardian, but bathing her? Uh, nope!
“That’s all you, buddy,” I blurted.
Atlas winced. “Munchkin, that’s not a good idea. When Auntie Mimi is here tomorrow, or when Mommy is back, you can take a bubble bath. I promise. Tonight, we’re going to skip the bath altogether. How about some ice cream?” he offered.
“Smooth, Atlas. Redirection.” I laughed. “Real smooth.” I chuckled and clapped him on the back, silently thanking him for the quick thinking.
“Best. Uncle. Ever. Status. The struggle is real.” He chuckled.
Chapter Three
When the heart chakra is open, we are able to forgive; our lungs are clear and our immune systems are healthy. The higher chakras cannot be accessed until we pass through the heart. A heavy heart is one that carries resentment and anger from denied emotions, as well as guilt.
MONET
“Dr. Holland, you’re going to have to take it easy.” The nurse gripped my bicep and helped me stand from my prone position on the bed. I winced and breathed several times, trying to cut through the agony splintering out every limb.
I’d been in the hospital the better part of two days and I was done. D-O-N-E. Done. Flying monkeys couldn’t keep me here a second longer. I needed to be home, surrounded by my things, including my bed, my clothes, the solitude of my bedroom, and most important, my little girl. She needed her mommy. A pang of guilt fired through my heart as I thought about her being without me, probably worrying. And she’d been with Clayton Hart for most of last night. Ugh. That couldn’t have been comfortable for either of them.
I stood shakily as white-hot pain ricocheted down my back, halting me into stillness. “My God, that hurts.” The words blasted out of my lips on a surprising gust of air.
Mila held me by the other arm.
“Perhaps you should sit down,” the doctor, standing at the other side of my bed, offered.
I shook my head. “No. I’m fine, just eager. You’ve already signed the release papers. Now please go over my discharge and recovery plans. I’m ready to go home.”
“As you wish.” The doctor looked down at his electronic tablet, scanned it for a moment, and then tucked it under his arm.
Mila set my loafers down on the ground in front of me, and I slipped into them slowly, being extra careful not to jostle anything.
“You’ll have to come back in two weeks to have the stitches removed. They need to be kept dry for at least three more days. Sponge or sink bath for now. Do not submerge them in water. The wound was superficial, but the healing will be uncomfortable to say the least with a laceration that large. I’ve prescribed a broad-spectrum antibiotic to help prevent infection, a muscle relaxer, and a mild narcotic for pain. Use the last two sparingly and try to wean yourself off by next week.”
I nodded, listening intently as Mila carefully laid a bulky sweater over my shoulders. Pushing my arms into the sleeves was not an option. The warmth of the familiar fabric engulfed me, and I sighed, the solace of being home feeling near.
“Are we done?” I glanced up at the doctor.
He smiled softly, laid a hand over mine, and gave it a light squeeze. “You’re going to make a full recovery. The scars shouldn’t be too noticeable after a few months to a year.”
Except for the fact that I’d always know they were there. Every time I wore a bathing suit or a strapless dress, people would see them. The one on my neck was not going to be easy to hide. Questions would arise, and what the heck was I supposed to say?
Yeah, my ex-husband hates me so much he wants me dead and gave me some stunning reminders to prove it.
As a psychiatrist, I knew it was going to be a long road to recovery for my mind and soul, not to mention my physical body. Though at that point, as a woman first, doctor second, I just wanted it all to go away. I wanted to go home, hug my daughter, wash my body of Kyle’s filthy hands, get into my bed, and pretend none of this ever happened.