End of Story(50)

“That’s a pity,” said Dr. Lopez.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Fourth of December. Damn shame.”

Dr. Lopez’s brows went up. “You’ve picked a date?”

“Lars loves a plan.” I laid my hand on his arm. Doing my best to avoid any damage. “Hey there.”

His smile was blissful, his gaze glued to the region of my chest. “Susie. Hey. Great dress. It’s really tight.”

“Thanks.”

“Sorry I missed our sex date.”

Tore made a choking noise.

“Oh, sorry,” Lars said. “Not supposed to call it a date.”

“That’s okay.” I smiled. “What happened?”

“I was buying you that bottle of wine and some fucker ran a red light.” His words were slurred. “Sent me flying. Can you believe that shit?”

“This happened when you were buying the wine?”

“Not your fault, Susie,” said Tore.

Lars frowned. Which made him wince again. “Of course it’s not her fault. Fuck’s sake, Tore. Why would you say that, man?”

“Sorry. My bad,” said Tore, keeping a straight face. “Susie, I apologize.”

“Do you forgive him?” asked Lars in a grave voice. “You don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“Um. Yes. I forgive him.”

Tore gave me a wink.

“You’re not going to cry, are you?” asked Lars.

“I’m fine. I promise. You just gave me a scare.” I sniffed and smiled. “What’s the damage?”

Dr. Lopez slipped her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. “Can I just clarify your relationship to Lars?”

“She’s my sig...my signif... She’s my other.” Lars nodded. “I, ah, I love...her and yeah.”

I held my breath and waited, but he said no more. Which was for the best. Lars was on a lot of drugs and didn’t know what he was saying. Obviously. But on the off chance I did suffer from sudden heart failure brought on by his words, I was in the right place.

Dr. Lopez just nodded. “Hairline fracture in the wrist, rib contusion, and neck strain. No sign of a concussion, but it was a hard knock. I’d like you to keep an eye on him for the next couple of days. Just to be safe.”

“Of course. He’s getting discharged tonight?”

“Yes. Bed rest and pain relief for the next seventy-two hours with gentle movement. It’s important you get up and walk around, just take it easy. We’ll make a follow-up appointment for the cast in a couple of weeks.”

Lars stared bemusedly at the light above his bed. Blissfully unaware.

“I can move back into the condo with him,” said Tore. “Sleep on the floor or something. Buy one of those air mattresses from Walmart.”

“You only just moved in with Cleo.” I frowned. “And he’d be alone during the day. I work from home. Why doesn’t he just stay with me?”

“It’s not a bad idea,” said Tore. “But I’m not sure he’ll go for it.”

“Only one way to find out.” I turned to the wounded one. “Lars, you’re coming home with me.”

“But, Princess,” said Lars, tuning back into the conversation, “I don’t want to be like a... Shit. What’s that word?”

“A hassle?” suggested Tore. Then he said more quietly, “Wish they’d give me some of whatever he’s on.”

Cleo elbowed him in ribs.

Lars thought it over. It took a while. “Yeah. That’s it. A hassle.”

“You’re not a hassle,” I said.

“But you don’t have a spare bed.”

“Are you worried if you sleep in my bed you’ll catch girl germs?”

Lars laughed and answered loudly, “No!”

“Then what’s the big deal?”

“I’m just not sure it’s a good idea,” he mumbled.

I gave him my best, most reassuring smile. “Why don’t we try it for a few days and see? I mean, how bad can it be?”



Twelve


“Are you all right?”

Slowly and carefully, Lars turned around to face me. The fridge door sat open behind him. His face was pale and lined with pain. In one hand he held the leftovers from my dinner last night. In the other he held a fork. “Got hungry. This was all I could find.”

“I’m due a grocery shop.”

He filled the fork and shoveled it into his mouth. Eating straight out of the casserole dish. Which was fine, I guess. “Want me to get you a plate?”

A grunt in the negative.

“The good drugs wore off, huh?”

Another grunt, as he shuffled past me over to the dining table. There he sat in the same slow and careful manner. With lots of scowling. “I didn’t realize how good they were until they stopped working. Honestly, who takes someone off morphine to give them Tylenol? I’m amazed they can even say it with a straight face, without laughing their asses off.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

He shrugged.

“I actually slept really well. Sharing a bed with you works, apparently,” I said.

I filled a glass with water and set it beside him. Then I started making my morning coffee. Because caffeine. I’d sneaked into the bathroom upon waking and brushed my teeth and my hair. Then washed my face and applied concealer, mascara and a tinted lip balm—going for the epitome of natural woke-up-this-way beauty. Wanting to impress a man was hard work. I’d even worn my best pajamas: black cotton with white piping. Much nicer than my usual old tee and panties. Not that he was in any condition to notice.