Page 50 of Faker
“I was about to take a shower.”
He frowns. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
I cross my arms. “The pamphlet the nurse gave me advises to wait two days after surgery before bathing, so I’m in the clear. Hang on.”
I leave him standing in the doorway and go to turn off the tub faucet. The water level is halfway up the tub, perfect for a shallow bath. When I return to the living room, Tate hovers by the couch, frown still on full display.
“You could slip. And what about your stitches? Getting hot water all over them can’t be good.”
I yank up my tank top and point to my lower abdomen. “I had a laparoscopic procedure. There are three tiny incisions. One in my belly button, one near my right hip, and one...” I trail off before I can reveal the location of my third incision, which is right above my pubic bone.
Tate’s cheeks take on a crimson hue. By the way he clears his throat, I think he has a good idea where that third incision is.
I straighten my shirt to its rightful place. “Besides, Dr. Tran used tissue adhesive to seal me up. It’s like clear, super strong glue that protects my incisions. It’s perfectly safe to bathe at this point, as long as I don’t directly scrub at the incisions.”
Tate’s eyes fall to my midsection. “Oh.”
This is new. We’re bickering, but not because we’re mad or frustrated with each other. Because Tate cares about me. Emotion hits the center of my chest. He’s living out the text he sent last night, the one I read over and over until I fell asleep, phone in hand.
“Do you want to help me?” I ask, my voice soft.
He nods, then stops himself. “I won’t try anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I don’t doubt his words or the tender expression on his face, the way his eyes plead when they look at me.
“You said that when we slept in the hospital bed too.” His gentle tone conveys the same care and sweetness from that day. Itmakes me wish I were one hundred percent recovered so I could jump him.
“Whatever you need to make this more comfortable, tell me. I just want you safe.”
Safe.Never before has that word make me tingle.
As much as I want him here with me, I don’t want him to see me in my birthday suit. “You can’t see me naked.”
“Of course not. That’s not why I— I wasn’t even thinking...” His red face pulls into a grimace, something in the realm of shocked and nervous.
I wink at him. “Here.” I hand him the hot-pink sleeping mask I’ve been wearing while napping on the couch. “Wear this. Sit on the toilet lid. I’m going to pull the shower curtain so it closes off the back half of the tub, so you can’t see anything. If you hear me scream, cry, or shout for help, take off the mask and help me. Otherwise, if all you hear are normal splashing noises, just sit there until I say I’m done. Sound good?”
His toned chest heaves with a single breath. And then there’s a small smile. “Got it.”
He waits in the living room while I undress in the bathroom, only a rickety wooden door separating us. The hot water laps at my lower half when I settle in. I moan. It’s heaven on my roughed-up body. The water level barely hits my hips, which is perfect because according to the pamphlet I’m not supposed to let the incisions sit in stagnant water for long periods of time. After another few seconds, I pull the shower curtain forward until it covers half the tub and prop up on my knees. Using my hands as cups, I splash the water across my stomach.
“You can come in now.”
The bathroom door squeaks open. Tate’s soft footsteps makemy heart pound. There’s a loud thud, then an “oof” sound from Tate.
I stick my head around the curtain. He stumbles backward from the sink, rendered blind by my hot-pink eye mask.
“What are you doing?”
He bumps ass-first into the towel rack and groans. “Crap.”
I swallow back a laugh. “I meant for you to put it on after you came in.”
He faces me. “Oh. I guess that makes more sense.”
“Here, just take the mask off and sit down. I’m already in the back of the tub behind the curtain. You can’t see me anyway.”
Through the white of the curtain, I observe his shadowy silhouette sit down.
