Part 13 (2/2)
”No, I don't want to watch TV! h.e.l.l, for all the good this is doing me, I might as well go to work.”
”You shouldn't go to work until late next week at the earliest...”
”Says who?”
”Says Mike.”
”Oh, really? And how do you know what Mike said to his patient, since I, the patient, never told you? You wouldn't have by any chance wormed information out of my doctor, would you? What else did the good doctor tell you? And you better be straight with me, because I have no problem getting Mike on the phone and asking him myself, if for no other reason than to a.s.sure him, in no uncertain terms, he's seen the last of me-as a patient, anyway.”
”What in the h.e.l.l is that supposed to mean? Why would you see him at all if not as a patient?”
”Hold up here. You're the one in trouble, not me. Where do you get off being p.i.s.sed?”
She started coughing, and not a little cough. She sounded like a freaking goose honking and felt the burn right between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Every cough felt as if it were cutting a hole in her. Of all the times to start a coughing jag. She was just getting warmed up for a good fight.
Nick hovered over her, pus.h.i.+ng her back against the pillows and reaching for the d.a.m.n nebulizer.
”See, Mike was right. You can't go getting all excited-look what happens.”
He shoved a gla.s.s of water in her face, so she drank some, trying not to choke on it. He held the nebulizer out, and she pushed it away and took a blast of her handy-dandy inhaler. It tasted like garbage, but it only took seconds to get through, compared to the eons it took for a nebulizer treatment. There's nothing like a shot of Albuterol to set things right. Rosalie wanted him to leave once she started to breathe regularly. It wasn't as if she needed him. She was doing fine by herself.
”Look, you're off the hook. I'm able to take care of myself. You can go back to whatever it is you should be doing. I don't need a babysitter. I never did. Thanks for every-”
”Oh, no, you don't. You're not getting rid of me that easy. I'm not leaving, until you're able to throw me out yourself. Besides, we never did finish our date.”
”What are you? A m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t? So far, this date can go in the annals of dating as the longest and most vile date imaginable. h.e.l.l, the only time you had any fun was when Dr. Barbie was flipping her hair and jiggling her artificial mammary glands in your face.”
”You caught that?”
She couldn't believe it. The man actually looked guilty. As if he'd had anything to do with it-well, other than looking like an X-rated dream date with that whole just-got-out-of-bed s.e.x G.o.d thing he'd cornered the market on. ”Caught what? That she was throwing herself at you, or that they were fake?”
”Both, either-I don't know.”
d.a.m.n the man. He made it so hard to hold onto the mad. It took all the fun out of fighting and left her with no outlet for all that energy, especially since she was in bed, and he wasn't. ”I was sick, not dead. And it wasn't as if she was subtle.”
”That's why I told her we were engaged. You're not mad about that, are you?”
”Not unless you believe it.”
”Not a chance.”
”Good.”
”Fine.”
Did he have to be so d.a.m.ned adamant about it? Plenty of guys had asked her to marry them.
Nick ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. ”So, are we done fighting?”
She picked up the empty carton Dave had left on the bed. ”I don't know. I'm still plenty p.i.s.sed about you talking to Dr. Mike behind my back.”
”Well, it's not as if you were forthcoming. Give me a break, would you? I've been sleeping with you every night, and every night you plaster that hot little body of yours to mine, and every night I lay awake thinking of all the things I'd like to do you.”
”I do not plaster myself to you.”
”Oh, yes, you do. You might be all cool and standoffish when you're awake, but when you're asleep, you cling to me like a drunk's hand around a bottle of cheap whiskey.”
”I'm not standoffish.”
”Oh, come on. You're afraid to touch me because you think I'll make something of it, and all night long you shrink-wrap yourself to me. I haven't slept all week. So yeah, I guess I am a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t.”
”Then why did you jump off the bed? Oh, and then you patted my shoulder. Don't pat me. I'm not a d.a.m.n dog.”
”I jumped off the bed because Mike said I should wait until next week, and d.a.m.n it, the minute you get excited, you start coughing up a lung. And that's just from getting mad at me. Can you imagine if you... well, I remember how heavy our breathing was after only one kiss.”
”You asked Mike when we could have s.e.x?”
”Well, not in so many words, but yeah. I'm sorry.”
The look on his face was priceless. It was a fascinating combination of embarra.s.sment mixed with total disappointment, guilt, and a heaping helping of chagrin. The man was irresistible. She couldn't help it. She had to laugh. It felt good to laugh a straight from the belly, tear-inducing laugh.
”Aye? Who needs Monty Python when you have me to laugh at, right?
”I'm not laughing at you. Well, okay, I guess I am, but only because you're so cute.”
Nick sat on the bed and groaned. ”Don't say that! It's the kiss of death. Don't you know you're never supposed to call a man cute? Puppies are cute; stuffed animals are cute; babies are cute. I'm s.e.xy, hot, gorgeous-”
”Not to mention modest, una.s.suming, and unpretentious-”
”Right, those, too. How would you like it if I said you were cute?”
”Okay, I admit ”cute” is the wrong word. How's irresistible?”
”Better.” He pushed her hair behind her ear. ”So, you think I'm irresistible, huh?”
Nick might have sounded appeased, but it wasn't long before he pulled the old you're-recovering-from-pneumonia-and-you-need-your-rest ploy. He tucked her in, pulled the shades, and tiptoed out of the room.
Rosalie fumed until she could no longer fight her ever-present exhaustion and drifted off to sleep. She was in the middle of a dream, one of those dreams when you know you're dreaming. The fact that she dreamed she was walking through an air tunnel seemed weird, but she went with it-that was, until her hair began being drawn toward the fan blades at the end of the tunnel like some kind of reverse blow dryer. That's when she decided it was time to stop dreaming. She awoke with a start and found that the noise wasn't a dream after all. It was real. She didn't know what it was, but she planned to find out.
Feeling like a naughty child, Rosalie snuck out of bed and opened the bedroom door a crack. When she saw the coast was clear, she stepped out.
Nick had his back to her, so she was able to stare for a good long time. She still couldn't believe her eyes. She tried to remember what time she'd taken that codeine-laced cough syrup. It had been well before lunch, before her mother had arrived. It was already after three in the afternoon. There was no way this was a drug-induced hallucination. Amazing. Rosalie tilted her head to the side and watched with abandon.
Nick was doing a really good impression of Superman, the man of steel. But instead of lifting a car off the ground with one hand to keep a baby from being crushed, Nick was lifting the end of Rosalie's long, extremely heavy sectional sofa to vacuum under it.
Yes, she was watching a man vacuum, which was enough to make her wonder if she'd been pulled into an alternate universe. Nick's arm and neck muscles bulged as he expertly maneuvered a vacuum that looked as if it came out of an episode of Star Trek. Star Trek. The thing was amazing. It was also purple. Really purple. Who made bright purple vacuums, and where in the h.e.l.l did it come from? It did have some black on it, and it wasn't a girlie purple. But still, it was purple. The thing was amazing. It was also purple. Really purple. Who made bright purple vacuums, and where in the h.e.l.l did it come from? It did have some black on it, and it wasn't a girlie purple. But still, it was purple.
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