Page 25 of BillionHeir
I stay quiet and let her believe that. The truth is, I could have hired any nurse I wanted. With as much as I was willing to pay, I would have had them falling all over me. But I wanted Chloe. And the fact that I got what I wanted still feels like a win.
Even if I did have to spend an obscene amount of money to get her.
“What do you need?” she asks, catching me off guard.
She reads the dumbstruck look on my face and clarifies. “What were you getting up for?”
“Right,” I answer, wiping one of my hands down my face as I struggle to get myself together. “I am not used to being so dependent.”
“Well, that is what I am here for, right?”
I nod. “I need to use the bathroom. And I would really like a shower, if you think I can manage it.”
I can see the refusal on Chloe’s face, but something makes her hesitate. “We are still waiting on the shower chair I ordered. You are much too weak to stand for any amount of time.”
Normally I would scoff at such a declaration, but I have to admit that she is right. I wouldn’t last thirty seconds on my own, let alone have the fortitude to wash myself. She thinks for a moment before continuing. “Let me help you into the bathroom. While you are using the loo, I will see what I can figure out in the meantime.”
I find her little Britishisms quite charming. She is almost like a softer, kinder, much hotter version of Liam. Just the thought of Liam as a bedside nurse causes the corners of my mouth to turn up with amusement. He would kill me if he knew the comparison I just made.
She sits down on the bed next to me, and I have to fight my body not to react to her closeness. Chloe positions one of my arms around her shoulder so that when she stands, she lifts me up with her. If I had met her under normal circumstances, I might have doubted her ability to support all of my weight, but she is managing quite well. We walk, with her supporting most of my weight, into the bathroom where she takes me to the small room with the toilet.
“I can take it from here,” I say once we are close enough for me to grab a hold of the railing that I always thought was unnecessary.
Chloe gives me a dubious look. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Focus on the shower,” I grunt out before thinking about it. “Please,” I offer a second later.
I hear her turn and walk away, probably cursing me silently with every step as I slowly shuffle the rest of the way into the bathroom.
By the time she gets back, I am leaning against the counter brushing my teeth all on my own. I will admit that it has never been harder to care for myself, but the satisfaction at having done the most mundane things for myself supersedes the exhaustion.
Her look of surprise at my progress makes it all that much more worth it.
“Look at you!” Chloe says with a smile. “Worn out yet?”
I smile as I lean a bit more against the marble for support. "The idea of taking a shower outweighs how tired I am.”
I can't describe the joy I feel at the thought of finally getting clean. Since the accident, I have only had sponge baths, which are definitely not as sexy as Hollywood makes them sound. In fact, they are awful. I never quite feel clean enough. Having to sit in the chair means the shower won’t be as thorough as I would like, but something is better than nothing.
She glances down at the mesh outdoor lawn chair in her hands before explaining. “I think this chair will do the trick until Ethan can have the equipment I asked for delivered. He said they should be able to have everything delivered by tomorrow.”
I watch as Chloe maneuvers the chair into the spacious walk-in shower. She slides it open and positions it in the center of thefloor, then turns to inspect the dials on the wall. I watch as she squints at the controls trying to figure out how to work the high-tech shower.
A few years after I inherited the house from my parents, I hired a contractor to update the technology throughout Seabanks. All of the lights, curtains, appliances, televisions, and sound systems can now be controlled from a digital interface, the security system allows me to see live footage from anywhere on the property, and there are heated floors in every room for when the Maine winter’s get cold. But of all the upgrades, I am most proud of this shower. It has three shower heads at varying heights each with customizable water temperature and pressure, and a rain shower system built into the ceiling. It is one of the best purchases I have ever made. When I am here, I want to be as relaxed as possible, and this usually does the trick.
It takes her less time than I expected to figure out how to turn the water on. Soon after, she discovers how to set the temperature and adjust the various shower heads so that they are focused on the chair, making sure that the pressure isn’t too strong on my injuries. Once she is satisfied with her work, she turns back to me.
“Do you need help getting undressed?”
I feel the tension in the room grow as I carefully consider her question. I hadn’t thought about this part, or how awkward itcould get. “I guess I just assumed that you would leave me alone and let me do my thing.”
“And let you slip and fall?” She plants one of her hands on her hips and gives me a dissatisfied look.
“I won’t slip. The floor is heated and has anti-slip technology.”
She looks down at the tile. “I am not buying it.”
“I am not letting you shower me.” I draw a line in the sand. I can do this myself, damnit.
