Page 88 of Check the Halls
I don’t shatter. As I reach the bathroom, I step in and attempt to close the door, but Ben stops it with his hand.
“Don’t lock the door,” he begs. The worry in his voice gives me pause.
“Why?”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows. “What if you lock the door and then you need me? I don’t want to have to rip the door off its hinges. I will. I just don’t want to.”
I sigh, exasperated but also touched by his concern.I’ve never been good at staying mad at this man. Instead, I offer a compromise.
“If you promise not to hover outside the door, I promise not to lock it.”
“I just want to take care of you.” He speaks the words so softly I barely hear them.
“I know. But I need to pee by myself. If you want, you could get me some breakfast.”
His expression brightens at the promise of a new task. “Of course. God, you must be starving. What do you want?”
“Maybe just plain toast to start. And coffee, please.”
He leans in and kisses the top of my head. It’s familiar and comforting. “On it. Holler if you need me.”
I don’t need him, thankfully. By the time I use the bathroom and wash my hands, I’m exhausted and ready to climb back into bed. I’ve just settled myself in a fairly comfortable upright position when Ben comes back with a steaming cup of coffee and plate piled high with toast.
“Did you use an entire loaf of bread?” I tease, eyeing the stack he places in front of me.
“No, but I can.” Ben fluffs my pillows before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He continues to stare at me while I eat my breakfast. I think he’d be happier if I let him hand feed me.
After I’ve finished two pieces I set the plate aside.
“Do you need anything else?” he asks, hopefully. It’s obvious how much he wants to take care of me.
“Could you bring me my phone? And my laptop?”
My request is met with a frown.
“You just had surgery, Madness. You don’t need to do work.”
“Yes, I do. The Gala is only a few weeks away and there is still so much to do.” I don’t want to think about how many things fell through the cracks in my absence the last two days.
He runs his hands roughly through his hair leaving it adorably tussled. I know he wants to fight me on this. I also know he won’t win. And so does he.
“Promise you’ll take it easy?”
“I promise. Just emails. No heavy lifting.”
He relents with a sigh and walks out of the room, returning a minute later with my phone and laptop.
True to my word, I keep my activity light. My inbox is full, so I spend the morning responding to media requests and messages from donors. Everything is on track and thankfully, there haven’t been any catastrophes to untangle.
Ben putters around the condo, starting a load of laundry and refilling my coffee. He brings me my medications at timed intervals. But mostly he just watches me, waiting for any indication that I need saving.
Just before noon, he steps out to take a phone call. I’m not sure how long he’s gone for, maybe ten or fifteen minutes, but when he comes back, his expression is stormy.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, setting my laptop aside and patting the bed next to me.
“Nothing,” he answers too quickly. “Can I get you anything? Lunch, maybe?”
“Ben…”
