She doesn't leave the doorway, so Harper has no choice but to say a quick and casual goodbye and follow her out. I guess I’ll be eating that pizza on my own after all.
* * *
The following afternoon, Kev, one of the drivers, delivers me to the door of the motorhome and I’m surprised someone doesn’t race over with a wheelchair to transport me the couple of metres up to the door. I’ve been thoroughly coddled for the last twenty-four hours, and I can’t wait to have some privacy again.
I thank Kev for his help getting out of the car – my abs seem to have suffered disproportionately – but the opportunity to finally stretch properly is heavenly. The fresh air is delicious, and even though every part of me hurts, it’s nice to extend my limbs and get some motion back into my body.
Harper appears in the doorway, almost as if he’s been watching for my arrival. There’s a soft smile on his face and I hear him audibly breathe out, relaxing his shoulders and holding open the door for me to pass.
‘It’s good to be home,’ I say stepping over the threshold. I stop short, though, when I see that the place is spotless. ‘Who’d you hire?’ I joke.
‘Asshole.’ He goes to thump my arm before he remembers and stops short. ‘I’ll have you know I did all of this, by myself, with only a little help from Johannes who held the sofas up so I could vacuum under them.’
‘You vacuumed? I didn’t know you knew how.’
‘I wasn’t actually sure where any of the cleaning equipment was, but it’s all kept in that.’ He gestures to the grey storage caddy like it’s the first time I’ve seen it, too, during the twelve weeks we’ve been living in the motorhome.
‘Yes, I’m aware. Who do you think’s been cleaning up after you for the last three months?’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
It’s good to be back with Harper, even if my brain’s still mush – I’m telling myself it’s from the crash but I know it’s mostly a result of uncertainty about our situation.
‘Thanks for sorting some clothes out for Kev to bring to the hospital this morning. Leaving in the very short hospital gown would have produced some interesting headlines tomorrow.’
‘You’re welcome. I didn’t want anyone coming in here and realising our shit’s all in your room.’
And there he goes again. He could have left it atyou’re welcomebut now I feel like his dirty little secret again.
‘Right.’ It’s all I can manage without revealing my disappointment.
‘I also cooked dinner. Don’t get me wrong, it’s only pasta with pesto – nothing fancy – but the cupboards are pretty bare with us flying out tomorrow.’
‘I’ll take anything over hospital food.’ I hate that the conversation now feels awkward again.
He spoons pasta from a pot into two bowls and we settle on the sofa to eat it. We’re side by side, but we may as well be thousands of miles apart. Silence settles around us as we eat and then he even volunteers to do the washing-up.
I can’t quite believe my ears, but I’m not about to protest. I don’t think I could stand up for long enough anyway, and I want nothing more than to sleep for a year. I’ll have to pack in the morning because my head’s in a spin.
‘I’m going to get the shower going. I got you some eucalyptus shower gel – it’s supposed to be good for you and it smells amazing. I also got you some magnesium spray for afterwards, and some arnica cream. Is that okay?’ I’m not sure why he’s asking so hesitantly. Maybe because I’m shocked into silence by what he’s clearly been doing for the last twenty-four hours.
‘That sounds perfect, thanks.’
His shoulders straighten at my words and he quickly finishes up the dishes before disappearing into the bathroom.
I don’t know what to make of his acts of service. I’m in danger of reading way too much into them and thinking it means something it probably doesn’t. I can’t afford that. I don’t need to look very far to be reminded of that.
As I slip into bed, clean and refreshed and looking forward to sleep, Harper appears in the doorway in a pair of what I believe to be my boxers. He presses a kiss to my shoulder and then my forehead and I realise he’s not sure whether he’s welcome in my bed or not. I lift the covers and he slides in beside me.
‘Do you wanna be the little spoon tonight?’ he asks.
I don’t know why but my throat suddenly feels too thick to swallow and my eyes begin to mist over. Maybe it’s the relief that I’m okay after the crash. Maybe it’s the painkillers I’m on. Or maybe it’s the wayhe’slooking aftermefor a change.I don’t know.
I nod and he wraps his arms around me gently and scootches close until my ass is flush against his crotch. He’s not hard and neither am I, yet this feels like the most intimate thing we’ve ever done.
We fall asleep, his chest pressed to my back, and the last thing I remember thinking is how much I’d love to spend every night for the rest of my life like this.
* * *
