Page 73 of Must Love Christmas

“I disagree on both counts.”

Garen clutched at his hair, clearly not listening. “The day you came home, you said I would be very bad for you—”

“That was a joke.”

“—and now it’s come true! I broke your body. I’m clearly a danger to your health and maybe even your life.”

“Please calm down,” Simon said.

“I can’t calm down!”

“Then leave me alone.”

Garen stopped pacing. “What?”

“You’re making me feel worse. So go to your room, or the kitchen, or wherever you need to go to get a grip.”

Garen stared at him, his eyebrows pinching together. “But I-I can’t leave you like this.”

“I’ll survive for five minutes while you get your head together.”

Garen took a step toward the bed. “Let me just—”

“Go. Now.”

His face pinched, Garen turned toward the door, then spun back to pick up his Santa suit from the floor. Then he was gone.

Simon realized he still needed to get up, if only to piss. He focused on his left arm, which hurt less than the right. The process of getting out of bed began with that arm.

With great effort, his breath puffing out like that of a woman in labor, he managed to get his left arm across his chest. The leg would be easier. He formed it into a triangle and dropped his knee over his right leg. Finally he shifted his hips so he was lying on his right side.Progress!he thought as a cheering section played in his mind.

But now he was stuck, for he couldn’t push himself to sit up without using his right arm. “Bollocks.”

Stop your whingeing. People with injured or missing arms get out of bed every day.He just needed to be creative.

Garen had left the walking frame within reach. Simon grasped the top of it and pressed down, trying to lift his upper body so he could sit up. But the frame was too far away to give him leverage. He tried again, rolling forward, hoping to slide his legs down to keep himself from—

Oh shit.

—falling.

“Aaaugh!” he cried out as he crashed onto the floor. The pain in his limbs seem to splinter him into a dozen pieces.

Footsteps thundered down the hall.

“Simon! What happened?”

“What does it look like? I fell out of the fucking bed.”

Garen shoved the walking frame out of the way and knelt by his side. “I knew I never should’ve left.”

“Not your fault.” As the shock of impact subsided, Simon began to laugh.

“Are you injured?” Garen was patting him down like a police officer searching for a weapon, which for some reason Simon found hilarious. “Did you break anything? Did you hit your head?”

“Not really.” In fact, Simon’s head was the part of him that hurt the least. “I don’t need an ambulance, if that’s what you’re asking. But maybe phone my physio’s office and see if Catriona can come sooner than nine?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course.” Garen stood, then spun in a circle. “Phone…”

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