Page 55 of Trial and Error

We could be in her bed right now—but we’re not.

I’m here, and so is she, and that makes it somewhat better. When she said she wanted to come and be here for me, I felt relieved. I hadn’t expected that I’d want her support until she offered it, and now, as we sit in the hallway, I feel lucky that I’ve got someone as caring as her by my side.

Bridget has one arm around my shoulders and her slender fingers play with the tufts of hair at the nape of my neck. The three of us sit here for what feels like hours when a young doctor walks through two swinging doors toward us. He looks familiar, but I can’t quite figure out how I know him. Thin, wire-framed glasses sit on the bridge of his nose and his thin eyebrows are drawn together as he looks over the chart.

It’s when he looks up, and I feel Bridget stiffen, that I place him. Suddenly, my relaxed mood has soured and I find myself gripping hold of Bridget even tighter.

“Bridget,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

I gently lift Bridget from my lap and pulls us both up. I’m taller than him, not by much, but he straightens his back and his shackles go up. Bridget stays tucked into my side as I extend my hand and plaster on a fake as fuck grin on my face.

“Tim, isn’t it?”

He glares at me and takes my hand in his, squeezing it unnecessarily tight, and shakes it roughly three times before letting it drop. “Tom. Dr. Wilson,” he replies curtly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”

An amused smirk tugs at my lips, and I know it pisses him off that I’m not backing down from the challenge that gleams in his eyes.

Bridget remains as stiff as a board next to me, and I find myself growing angry at how uncomfortable he makes her, hating the effect he has on her. I move my hand from her waist and rub soothing circles on her lower back, and I sigh when she leans into the touch and I feel her muscles relaxing.

“Mr. Mackintosh.” Tom turns his attention to Patrick, but not without sneaking a few glances at Bridget. “Your wife is resting comfortably. It seems the pain medication we prescribed for her had some unfortunate side effects, so we’ve switched her over to something that will be a lot easier for her. We’d like to keep her overnight, just to monitor her and make sure the new medication doesn’t cause any issues.”

Patrick nods. “Can I at least see her?”

Tom nods, tucking the clipboard he was carrying under his arm. “Yes, absolutely. We’ll call tomorrow when she’s been cleared to leave, unless anything changes. Other than that, she seems to be doing well, considering.”

Patrick and Tom talk over a few more mundane details that go right over my head. “All good?” I whisper to Bridget who looks up at me with a tight smile. “We can leave in a minute, I promise.”

She shakes her head. “It’s fine. We need to be here.” She pauses, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth and my gaze follows the movement. “I can make my own way home, if that’s easier.”

I turn to face her properly and pull her into me. Leaning down, I brush my lips over her right cheek and pull back so I can get a good look at her. “It’s not. I’ll take you home.”

“I think the mood from earlier has been killed.” She chuckles. “But I wouldn’t mind spending more time together. Maybe we can get some takeout and relax?”

Bridget nods, pleased with my suggestion. “A man after my own heart.”

She doesn’t even know the half of it.

Bridget fumbles with her chopsticks as she tries to pick up a piece of sushi. I watch in amusement as her tongue pokes out the corner of her mouth as she tries and fails to pick it up. A frustrated growl escapes her lips as she throws her chopsticks down on her plate.

We’ve been back for a couple of hours, sitting on her couch and watching episodes of The Vampire Diaries. She’s curled up under a blanket, the leg of her penguin pyjamas poking out from underneath a crocheted blanket. She’s wearing a pair of fluffy shark slippers that make her feet looks astronomically big that I laughed at when she first walked out in them.

“You’ve got to be gentle,” I tell her as I reach over and pick the cursed piece of her California roll. “Patience you must have, my young Padawan,” I say as I pop the roll into my mouth.

Bridget rolls her eyes as she leans across and shoves my shoulder, “Okay, Master Yoda.” She picks up her chopsticks again and sighs.

She goes to pick up the piece of sushi once again and successfully holds it between the two lacquered sticks. Bridget looks over at me with a cocky smile before she drops the piece back on her plate.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she breathes out. “How come you’re so good at this?”

I shrug, reaching over to pick up another piece and I lift it between the two of us and hold it out for her to take. She looks up at me and leans forward, wrapping her lips around the chopsticks. Her eyes stay glued to me as she slowly eats it, nodding her head appreciatively as she chews and I can tell from the slight wiggle of her shoulders that she is enjoying what she’s eating.

“Mmm, this tastes good.”

I nod. “Can I ask you a question?” She nods. “What did you ever see in that asshole?”

Bridget laughs, then shrugs. “It’s my sister’s fault, really. She’s the one who told me to go after him, though, I don’t know how I didn’t see it before—he really is a dick.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “You got that right.”