An hour later, Luca is napping on the couch, Honey is asleep at his feet, and the doorbell rings. Jogging to the door, I throw it open, expecting it to be Annie delivering Luca’s new phone, but it isn’t.
It’s Crash.
“Where’s the invalid?” he asks, moving to come inside.
It’s exactly what he always does—he’s even got his own key—so normally it wouldn’t occur to me to block his entrance, but on instinct, I step to stop him.
Crash looks at me in confusion. “Whoa. Emery, what’s up?”
“He’s…” I flounder, totally unprepared to deal with Luca’s best friend right now. “Still sleeping. He’s really sick, and—”
“I’m in here,” Luca says from behind me, groggily sitting up and waving.
With ayou’ve been overruledsmirk, Crash moves past me and into the house, his arm held high for their custom high-five back-of-hand fist-bump greeting that they’ve apparently been doing since they were children, and which Resurrected Luca absolutely bombs.
Thankfully, it seems to help Crash realize how “sick” my husband must be. “What’s up, man, feeling like shit?”
Luca nods, his eyes flickering to me then back up to Crash. “Yeah. Hey. Just under the weather.”
“That’s cool. It’s a slow week so your timing is good.” Bending, he scratches Honey behind the ears. “Who’s this?”
“Our new dog, Honey.”
“Finally gave in and got your man a dog, huh?” Crash shoves Luca’s legs aside so he can sit next to him on the couch, and it’s impossible to miss the way Luca spasms in pain.
“Dude—sorry.” Crash jumps up and jerkily moves to the chair while we both watch Luca clutch his thigh and breathe through the discomfort.
Crash looks at me for explanation and once again, I’m flummoxed. “He hurt his leg.”
“You—what?” He leans forward, inspecting, elbows on his knees. “When?”
“Friday night,” Luca says.
“Isawyou Friday night,” Crash says. “This happened on your anniversary?”
Luca looks up at me in confusion. “Friday was ouranniversary?”
Fuck, I forgot to mention that detail. My stomach sinks, and Luca registers at the same time what he’s just said. Crash huffs out a laugh and looks more closely at my husband. “How sickareyou, Luke?”
Luca and I share a look, and I take a deep breath to explain, ready to mention fevers and delirium and confusion, but Annie bursts inside, already speaking: “Behold! I have a new phone, Jesus! Resurrection Man!” She pulls up short when she sees Crash, dropping her arm to her side. “Oh. Crash. Hey.”
I really need to start locking my doors.
“Resurrection Man?” Crash grins over at Luca.
“He had a super high fever,” I say quickly, sounding like a panicked robot. “And was delirious.”
“That’s right,” Annie says, aggressively nodding. “Resurrectionin that he recovered so quickly.” Beat. “But, with some memory loss.” Another beat. “He might be out of it for a while. Or not.” Beat as she looks nervously over at me. “We really don’t know.”
If it wasn’t happening to me right now, I would really enjoy this moment.
“Fuckingmemory loss?” Crash looks justifiably horrified, and I see all of this slipping downhill like a tree caught in a mudslide. “And hurt his leg, too? How badly?” He walks over to pull back the blanket before Luca can react, and stares down at the pink, healing skin with puckered tissue beneath. “Whoa.”
It looks like a much older injury than it is, and we all watch in silence as Crash works this out. He’s in Luca’s life every single day, and this injury that clearly ruptured down to the muscle is entirely unknown to him. “Did you take him to the hospital?”
Luca meets my eyes. His expression is a sardonicWhat a good and rational question, Crash.
“We’re both doctors,” Annie says, composed now. “He was in good hands.”
