Page 70 of Liquids

“God, I’ve missed this smell,” he says, burying his nose in my hair, and my heart takes off. I could cry. Me too, I want to say, but I squeeze his big hand where it’s curled around me, and he winces.

“Sorry. Sorry.”

I’m just wondering what to say next when he snores into my hair, and I want to giggle and cry at the same time. And in a flash I know that, even if he can’t give me long-term and I don’t know whether this will work out, I can’t lose him again. I can’t be without him in my bed.

24

SEALING

When I wake in the morning, Rig is still curled around me, and I blink at the white wall dividing the bathroom from the rest of the room. Someone is tapping at the door, and I shift, only for Rig’s arms to tighten.

“They’ll go away,” he rumbles. Snuggler.

“We’re not going away!” Marge shouts. Rig lets out a resigned sigh and rolls onto his back, and I climb out of bed in my T-shirt and pad over to the door.

The three old gals bustle in and crowd around the bed, peering at Rig.

“Oooo, my lord!” Marge says.

“Look what he did to you! That awful man …” Agnes clucks her tongue. “I’ve half a mind to go after him myself.”

“Let me see,” June says.

“She used to be a doctor,” Agnes says to Rig, and he nods.

She lifts bandages and inspects all the stitches, nodding all the while. “Excellent job,” she declares eventually.

“According to Konstantin, I put the Razor in the hospital,” Rig says.

“Oh God,” I say. “Was he all right?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Fucking scumbag. He would have killed me in a heartbeat.” He grins, and when he does, it’s all lopsided because his mouth is clearly still swollen. “Not a bad reputation to have, I’d say.”

Marge leans in and holds out her hand for a high five, and Rig lifts up his hand and slaps hers gently.

“Have you knocked on Marni’s door?” I say, turning to Marge.

“She’s not there,” Agnes says.

“She’ll be at Konstantin’s,” Rig rumbles. “He was jonesing about taking Angelo’s woman off him and talking about blowjobs.” His eyes meet mine. “That friend of yours is trouble with a capital T, babe.”

Shit.

“When are we going to breakfast?” June interrupts. “I haven’t gone out to eat in years, and I spotted an IHOP just down the road. We were going to walk, but we thought we’d come and knock on your door first.”

Rig sighs. “You’re not walking there, for fuck’s sake. A truck or something will wipe you all out in the road. Let me message Jake. I’ll take you all out for food.”

His eyes hit mine again, and he gives me a rueful smile. I guess any conversation we might have had about anything this morning will have to wait.

He tries to lever himself up and hardly moves. Agnes steps forward and holds out her hand, and he laughs.

“Not pulling you onto the bed, Agnes,” he chuckles.

“More’s the pity,” she says, grinning.

I gasp when he sits up: The bruises are coming up now, red and purple mottling all over his torso and arms.

He levers out of bed in his boxers, waving away my attempts to help, and limps to the bathroom, and I could almost laugh at the identical expressions of awe on the old ladies’ faces. As my eyes follow him, too, even with his battered body covered in bandages and bruised to hell, he still looks amazing.