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“Seizure,” she said. “Yeah, I remember.”
There was something about the self-consciousness in her eyes as she threw the throw to the side and slid a hand between her thighs. A vulnerability that punched me in the stomach with the need to make everything alright.
“Sorry,” she said, and breathed a sigh. “It’s just sometimes I…”
Her voice trailed off.
“Sometimes you what?” I asked, but she shook her head.
“Let’s not talk about it.”
“Tell me about the seizures,” I said. “Tell me what they’re like and how they work. How do you make them better? Can you make them better?”
She kept on shaking her head. “Seriously, Lucas. It doesn’t matter. No point talking about it.”
“How often do they happen? Are some worse than others? Tell me.”
But she wouldn’t. She shook her head all over again. “You can take me home now, honestly. I’m really sorry they called you. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. Big mistake on my part.”
But it wasn’t a big mistake. It was nothing like a mistake. I was still thinking of the words to express that when she let out a groan.
“My God, Lucas. She saw a photo of your dick.”
“My dick and your panties. Your very dirty panties. I’m sure it’ll burn itself into her memory. She’ll be blushing every time you head in there to get your beetroot.”
“Damn,” she said. “I’ll have to get my vegetables further afield.”
I didn’t move and neither did she. I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the armchair and she stayed huddled up in it, both of us staring at each other in the lamplight.
“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, and I shrugged.
“I don’t know. Wasn’t keeping track.”
“Sorry,” she said again. “For taking up your Friday evening. I would’ve called someone else, but I couldn’t speak.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I told her, and her eyes dropped from mine.
“Don’t say that, Lucas. I shouldn’t be here and you know it.”
My cold rational head might have known it, but the pang in my gut certainly didn’t. I cleared my throat and shunted closer, reaching out for her bare feet and pulling them into my lap.
She’d always liked that.
She let out a moan like she always had, eyes closing tight, and I got to work, kneading those toes on a mission.
Her toenails were red. I loved them that colour. Still, I’d love them any fucking colour, just so long as they were attached to her.
“I’d forgotten how good you are with foot massage,” she whispered.
I circled my thumbs on the arches and upped the pressure.
Her eyes flashed open, twinkling as she smirked. “Still, I’d forgotten just how good you are at a lot of damn things.”
“Ditto,” I said. “Pleasant surprises all round.”
“Pleasant surprises we can’t take advantage of.”
I didn’t let up from her feet. “Why not?”
“Why not what? Take advantage of how well we fuck?”
I nodded. “I’d say that’s quite a good thing to take advantage of.”
She pulled her feet away from me and scowled. “Not when everyone in the world is screaming at you for how much of a moron you’re being. And especially not when you agree with them.” She paused. “Really. You should take me home. Thanks for coming to rescue me, but I shouldn’t be here and we both know it.”
I’d always been direct, so I came right out with my proposition.
“Stay,” I said. “Stay here for the weekend with me.”
She scoffed at me. “For the weekend? Are you crazy?”
“Maybe,” I replied. “But fuck it and stay anyway.”
Her mouth was open as she digested my words, legs bunching back up in the chair.
I gave her time to think, easing back to quiet until she spoke again.
“Even if I wanted to stay for the weekend, what about your daughter? Don’t you see her at the weekends?”
I shook my head. “Usually. But not this weekend.”
“No?”
I rose to my knees and handed her a juice. “No.”
She must have heard the frustration in my tone, and didn’t let it rest at that. “How come not this weekend?”
I leaned in closer, my hands on the arms of the chair. “Don’t ask questions if you’re not prepared to answer them.”
Her eyelashes were so dark as her eyes blinked on mine. She paused and I paused, both of us scorching bright in the silence until she broke it.
“Fine.”
“Fine,” I replied, and got to my feet. “Alternatively, you can start talking. I’ll be making dinner if you want to fill me in on life, the universe and epileptic seizures.”
She ignored me as I made my way through to the kitchen, and I wondered if she was really going to opt for insisting that I take her back into the city. I’d fed the dogs and let them out into the back yard by the time she appeared in the doorway, looking considerably more steady than earlier, with the throw still wrapped around her shoulders. The fluffy purple suited her, just like everything else.
