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“I got into an argument with my father and I threw a vase full of roses at the sink,” I explain, wincing when she gently prods at my cut.
“Uh huh. That doesn’t sound so good.”
“It wasn’t.” I hiss in a breath when she removes the butterfly bandage that I put on my cut earlier. “The vase shattered when it hit the sink and glass went flying.”
“Into your face,” the doctor says.
“I have some cuts on my arms and legs too,” I admit.
She pulls back, her gaze narrowed. “Let me see.”
The humiliation is back, twenty-fold. I feel so stupid as I shove up my sleeves and show her the tiny cuts on my forearms. And the ones on my legs too. She deems all of them superficial and that I’ll be okay.
“The cut on your cheek though.” She shakes her head, her gaze trained on it. “You’re going to need stitches.”
Fear trickles through my blood, leaving me cold. “Will it scar?”
“Not if I can help it. I’m pretty good at this.” She smiles reassuringly. “And the cut only needs about four stitches, so not too bad. It’ll be over before you know it.”
“Will it hurt?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “The worst part is the shot I’ll give you to numb the pain.”
“Can my boyfriend come in here and be with me when you stitch it up?” I ask, suddenly needing Arch with me.
“Absolutely. I’ll have Carmen go fetch him.” She pats my shoulder. “Let us get some things together and then I’ll do the procedure. It won’t take long.”
I watch her go, wringing my hands in my lap the entire time while I wait for Arch. When the door finally swings open and he’s walking into the room, I start crying all over again.
I’m so tired of crying. Of being sad. Of beating myself up over this. I had an outburst and I’m acting like it’s the end of the world.
Arch doesn’t say a word. Just takes me into his arms and holds me close, his hand running up and down my back, soothing me. The tears dry up as fast as they spilled out and I finally pull away from him, tilting my head back so I can meet his gaze.
“What’s the verdict?” he asks, concern filling his blue eyes.
“I need stitches.”
His smile is faint. “You’re going to look like a badass.”
The laugh is automatic. Small but there, and my heart immediately feels lighter. “Please. I will not.”
He nods, his eyes dancing. “Hell yeah, you will. That’s all I wanted when I was a kid. Stitches. And on my face? That would’ve been so cool.”
“Why would you want stitches on your face?” I’m still laughing, shaking my head, smiling at him.
“Because like I said, you’ll look like my favorite badass. Especially where the cut is, right on your cheekbone.” His smile fades, his gaze turning serious. “You going to tell me what happened?”
“It’s dumb,” I say on a sigh.
“Aren’t accidents usually dumb?” He goes quiet and I realize he’s waiting for me to explain.
“My dad and I got into an argument.”
He averts his gaze like he’s staring out the window, though he can’t see anything because the blinds are closed. “About me?”
“It started out about you.” I clamp my lips shut when the doctor walks back into the room, Carmen, the nurse, trailing behind her.
Arch and I share a look and I realize we’re going to have to talk later.
