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Slumping back on the bed, I roll over, tugging open my nightstand drawer and lifting out the gift I ordered online for him. So much for a romantic Christmas morning. I bet it was Liam. He’s always getting into scrapes.
Moving to the bathroom, my eyes linger on the sink. I couldn’t be bothered trying to give myself a sponge bath, so I settled for a cold shower instead.
Shivering, I shut off the water, stepping out and snagging a towel. I hope the doctor tells me I can start having warm showers. Or baths. Imisswarm showers. Imissbaths. And Ronan has a glorious corner tub here in his ensuite bathroom.
Ever since I first saw it, I’ve dreamed about using it. I will crawl into it the second the doctor gives me the all-clear. I’ll probably wait until the doctor leaves first… but then I’m getting in.
After awkwardly patting myself dry, I dress my bandages the best I can and head out to the kitchen. My walk is less of a hobble and more of a slow, careful stride. I hope that’s a good sign.
Setting the coffee machine going, I place Ronan’s gift on the kitchen island, staring at it. I can’t believe Dr. Larsen is coming on Christmas morning. When the Irish tell you to do something, you do it, but still. Poor man.
I don’t have to wait long. I’m sure he’s stopping in before he needs to do Christmas things with his kids. I barely have time to finish my coffee when the doorman calls up that Dr. Larsen is here.
I like the Irish Mafia’s doctor. He’s shady as fuck, but wicked nice. That may be because he’s scared of Ronan, but he’s still nice.
“Sorry you had to come on Christmas morning.”
He shrugs, smiling and gesturing for me to sit down. “My wife doesn’t mind. We’re skiing in Colorado for New Year with what I’m being paid to be here today.”
Smirking, I sit patiently as he unwraps my bandages and examines my hand and feet, running his gloved fingers lightly over the shiny skin. Lifting his head, he smiles at me.
“I think there’s no need for bandages anymore, Miss Clatham. You should also be fine to wear hard-soled shoes.”
I sag with relief, my voice full of hope. “And warm showers? Baths?”
Dr. Larsen is busy putting his things away, but he glances over at my question and smiles at me.
“Warm showers are fine, though I would avoid baths or washing up for another week. You’ll probably find immersion in hot water for too long will be painful and cause irritation. Also, continue to avoid strong soaps for another two weeks. I’ll be back in about three weeks to check up on you again, but I think you’re almost completely healed.”
I beam at him. “Thank you so much. Have a lovely Christmas, and enjoy Colorado."
“Thank you, my dear. Happy Christmas.”
I tenderly walk barefoot to the door, letting him out.
The second I’m alone, I wiggle my toes, enjoying the feel of the cool hardwood floors beneath my bare feet. I’ve never felt these floors on my feet – I’ve worn those damn bandages since I’ve been here.
Giggling, I take a few tentative steps, and when it doesn’t hurt for the skin to stretch, I hurry into the kitchen, flexing my bare hand. Is it sad that I thoroughly enjoy setting the coffee machine using both hands? With no fumbling? Whatever. I totally revel in it.
Once the machine beeps and I pour myself a mug, I pick it up with my bad hand. It doesn’t hurt to hold it, so I cross to the armchair near the window, sinking into it.
Tucking my feet beneath me, I use my good hand to cradle the warm mug and let my eyes drink in the snow-clad cityscape laid out before me. Behind my head, hanging on the white wall, is a black and white photograph of another city. I think it’s Belfast – where Ronan grew up.
The last time she was here, Mellie told me I needed to do some online shopping and buy things that reflect me. To make this seem like it’s not such a bachelor pad.
I pursed my lips, shook my head, and rolled my eyes at her as I reminded her that this place was supposed to reflect Ronan because it washiscondo. I’m only staying here. Mellie seemed skeptical that Ronan would ever let me move out, but I’m more skeptical that Ronan wouldn’t lose his shit if I started redesigning his home.
They’ve all been discussing it because when Lauren called, she thought I should buy one or two small things and place them around to see if Ronan noticed… or cared.
I have to admit, I giggled at the idea. Honestly, I’m a little bit scared to do that. What if he notices and gets annoyed? I don’t want to know if he only wants me here for sex. Or whatever. Frowning, I clutch my coffee mug to my chest.
Why should I care if Ronan only wants me around for sex? It shouldn’t bother me. Right? Except that it would bother me. It would bother me a lot. Like, alot. I frown out over the cityscape.
Holy shit. I like being here in Ronan’s space. I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Digging deep, I stare unseeing out at the view. Well, actually, I can imagine staying somewhere else. But only if Ronan was with me. Fuck. Do I love Ronan?
My insides feel frozen, and I suck in a breath. No. I can’t love Ronan. I just can’t. I put down my coffee mug and hug my knees to my chest, pressing my forehead against the tops. My eyes flutter closed, and my hands shake as they grip my legs tightly. If I love Ronan, I owe him the truth – don’t I?
But I can’t tell Ronan the truth. I’m not ready to tellanyonethe truth. Blowing out my breath, I rest my chin on my knees and glare over the city.
