That laugh is balm for my soul, telling me all I need to know. We’re going to be okay. We’re getting through it together. She says, “And you couldn’t even humor me. You just had to pull out the stops per usual. I don’t think it’s possible not to be in love with you. It just feels so natural. It’s so easy to love you.”
“Well, I hadn’t quite finished.”
She smirks and it’s good to know I can bring out all sides of her. Her confidence being the best. “Oh yeah? Do tell.”
“Third, you get me into your hospital bed, and then you take the burden off my shoulders? Next, you’ll be telling me how exceptionally sexy I am and that you want to pleasure me with that fucking incredible mouth of yours.”
“All three can mutually exist.” I move my fingers over her hip, playing the notes only we can hear. She laughs again and adds, “If this isn’t romance, I don’t know what is.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll show you. Every day for the rest of our lives.”
I bring her closer to meet in the middle and kiss her. I don’t deepen it because we have time for that when we’re not on the verge of someone walking in on us. But I do pull back to see her eyes and tell her, “I would have waited forever for you.”
All joking subsides, and she whispers, “I know. It’s good we found each other again so we didn’t have to spend our lives searching for one another.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
36
Laird
“Dislocated shoulder, deep tissue abrasion of the rib area and abdomen. Hairline fracture on one rib, left side. Forty-three lacerations. Forehead. Left leg, both arms. Neck and chest.” The doctor looks up from the chart. “It sounds like a lot, but you look good overall, and you don’t have any signs of a concussion, which is surprising, considering the impact. How are you feeling?”
“Like I was in a car accident.”
The doctor’s attention returns to his e-pad screen while chuckling. “I can imagine. We’re sending you home with instructions for care. I read you’re going on tour soon.”
“Four weeks.”
“That aligns with the time I was going to tell you to rest, recover, and take it easy.”
“Will do.”
He turns to Poppy, whose mouth hangs wide open. I reach over to hold her hand, swaying in her direction. “What?”
“Laird.”
“Poppy.”
She huffs, waving her hand in front of her. “You let me lie all over you, like full body weight on top of you.” I catch the doctor shaking his head. I’m sent a hard glare as she grits her teeth and lowers her voice between us and says, “And do other things to you.”
“Right.” I caress her cheek and take advantage of the connection by running my thumb over her bottom lip. “And that was amazing, but I’m still lost.”
She drops her head back and closes her eyes, making a bigger deal out of this than it is. “You have like triple the number of injuries that I do, Laird.”
I’m not sure what she’s asking. “Okay?”
She releases my hand to cross her arms over her chest. “You really need to learn to let other people take care of you.”
The doctor nods. “She’s got a point.”
“Pfft.” Waving them both off, I say, “I’m fine.” Should I tell them I’m planning a surfing trip to La Jolla? Probably best if I don’t. “Really, I am. All is good. Great, in fact.”
She rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide that smile from me. “Doth protest too much.”
The doctor says, “Poppy Stanfield. Hm. . . . Uh-huh. Amnesia?” Looking up, he studies her as if you can see it.
“I did before the wreck.”