Page 77 of Swim To Me

“A bit. Still weak, though… I feel like it’s such a waste of the day.”

“What?” Grey fluffs his own pillow, pulling me into his side. “Resting?”

“Yeah.”

“Resting isn’t a waste, Delilah. It’s your body’s way of telling you it’s had enough. I used to think the same way, but then Ihad an accident, broke my foot up and tore a ligament, and I was forced to rest. I had to listen to my body, not my head.”

“How old were you when you had your accident?”

“Twenty-one.”

“I’m not very good at it,” I admit. “The whole… listening to my body, not my head, thing.”

“Mhm, and you work yourself too hard,” Grey agrees, sounding like my sister. “It’s probably what brought on your migraine. It’s okay to rest when you need to rest and honour your body, Delilah, instead of constantly pushing yourself.”

I stew on Grey’s words while we lie there, hands intertwined, his chin propped up on the crown of my tangled locks, the room silent other than our breathing. He’s right; I am too hard on myself, always have been, pushing myself until I’m the best I can possibly be at something. For years I’ve called it ambition, drive, but now it’s at the detriment of my own health and mental well-being.

I’d work long hours to avoid coming home to an empty apartment, order in takeout so I didn’t have to face plating up food just for one person.

I could have changed my behaviour, I could have tried harder to find a relationship, a person to fill my empty space, someone to offer another plate for me to cook for.

But I didn’t because I was too scared. Too scared to make that leap.

All the men I was meeting in pubs and bars, even sometimes at work, they didn’t show me they we’re worth making the leapfor.

Except for Grey.

He’s worth it.

Chapter 19

Delilah

So tired and over worked, I fall asleep again, only waking to eat a few dry crackers Grey coerces me to eat. I vaguely take notice of the golden glow coming from my lamp, highlighting the book splayed open across Grey’s lap, while I chew slowly, swallow and then close my eyes again.

When I wake for the third time, it’s to the noise of my blaring alarm, reminding me to get up for another day in the office.

“Take a sick day if you need it,” Grey suggests beside me, voice raspy and deep from sleep.

I look over at him; a line of sleep creasing his cheek, eyes only half cracked open.

My head is no longer pounding, my body feels refreshed, and usually I’d risk it; go into the office and pretend everything is fine, as always, even if my body isn’t fully recovered.

But today…

Grasping Grey’s hand from where it’s splayed out over my stomach, I kiss his knuckles and then grab my phone.

For the first time in my life, I ring in sick, and then hang up, smoothing my hand over the edge of my duvet as I wonder what on earth I’m going to do with my day.

“Think you could try and keep down some breakfast, gorgeous?”

My stomach rumbles at the thought. “Maybe.”

“I’ll go whip us something up. You stay there.”

Grey pecks at my lips, tumbling from the bed in nothing but his underwear.

It feels strange to still be in bed, at home, knowing I would usually be up and getting dressed. Even more weird, I can hear a clatter of cupboards opening and closing, the hissing boil of my kettle, in my otherwise usually silent apartment, reminding me I’m not alone.

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