Page 87 of The Man I Love

“Come in!” she called out.

Bang, bang, bang.

“Shit.” She cursed under her breath, remembering she’d locked the door when she got back from the doctor’s office.

She climbed down the ladder, wiped her hands on a cloth, then jogged to the door. “Sorry,” she said as she opened it. “I didn’t realize it was locked.”

Tristan stood on the stoop with food bags in each hand. “Don’t you always lock the door?” he asked as he came inside.

“No.”

“Well, you should.”

“The apartment is gated,” she said in her defense.

“Yet…” he paused and lifted his shoulders. “I got into the building just fine.”

She looked at him sideways, suddenly seeing his pointwhile simultaneously beingannoyed by the victorious grin on his face. “Touche,” she said as she walked toward the dining room, but then stopped, realizing to her own mortification that her house was a disaster.

In her urgency to get the mural finished, she’d left a million projects unfinished.

“Sorry.” She cringed. “I was working on the mural and lost track of time.”

She knew he was coming over to help, yet her suitcase was open on the table, its contents, including her new nursing bra, spilled over the edge. She tossed it into the bag, along with a heating pad, tennis ball, and a Ziplock full of toiletries. She then glanced toward the kitchen, where baby bottles and breast pump parts littered every inch of the counter. In her effort to clear it—CRASH—a glass bottle fell—exploding into a million shards on the floor. “Shit!” She stepped backward, and a piece jabbed into her foot. “Ouch!”

Tristan dropped his bags on the table and swooped her up off her feet. “Are you okay?”

She made a face. “Yeah—I’m fine.”

He carried her into the living room, shoved a pile of laundry to the side of the couch, and placed her on the edge. “Let’s take a look,” he said as he crouched down to his knees in front of her.

“It’s fine,” she argued, but just like every other time he was this close, her heart began to race.

His thumb ran over her skin, grazing the piece of glass that was stuck there. She jumped. “There it is,” he said, looking into her eyes. “It’s a big one.” He seemed so serious, and his brow was creased with concern. Like the tiny piece of glass in her foot was his number one priority.

In that moment she could picture him doing this same thing with their child. Taking care of her when she was injured. Treating her boo-boos when she fell––as though it were the most important thing he’d ever do.

“Where do you keep your tweezers and first-aid kit?” he asked.

“Tweezers are in my makeup bag I don’t––I don’t have a first-aid kit,” she stumbled over the wordsbecause she couldn’t quite believe she’d forgotten to get one. She’d read all the books. Thought she had everything for this baby’s first year of life, yet she’d failed at being prepared for a minor cut? The thought instantly filled her with inadequacy.

Tristan hopped up from the floor and proceeded to search the apartment, gathering the items he needed: tweezers, a washcloth, anda roll of paper towels. “No worries,” he said.I have a first-aid kit in my truck. I’ll be right back.”

True to his word, a minute later, he was jogging up the steps with a red zippered pouch and kneeling in front of her again.

Without speaking, he took an alcohol wipe from his kit and ran it along the bottom of her foot. His touch was so gentle she could hardly feel it, yet goosebumps covered her legs. He then plucked the glass with a steady hand, and every movement left her questioning her own abilities as a parent. So easily he tookcare of her—so easily he handled every situation as though he’d been doing it his whole life. Then he placed some antibiotic ointment on the cut and continued to wrap her foot with gauze and a brown adhesive bandage.

Her face must have clearly expressed her thoughts because when he glanced up again, he frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Is it too tight?”

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

She thought about denying it a second time, but she knew Tristan too well. He would hound her until she told him the truth. Deciding to continue the trend of total honesty, she met his eyes. But the sincere regard for her well being wasn’t something she was prepared for.

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