Mila held me by the other arm.
“Perhaps you should sit down,” the doctor, standing at the other side of my bed, offered.
I shook my head. “No. I’m fine, just eager. You’ve already signed the release papers. Now please go over my discharge and recovery plans. I’m ready to go home.”
“As you wish.” The doctor looked down at his electronic tablet, scanned it for a moment, and then tucked it under his arm.
Mila set my loafers down on the ground in front of me, and I slipped into them slowly, being extra careful not to jostle anything.
“You’ll have to come back in two weeks to have the stitches removed. They need to be kept dry for at least three more days. Sponge or sink bath for now. Do not submerge them in water. The wound was superficial, but the healing will be uncomfortable to say the least with a laceration that large. I’ve prescribed a broad-spectrum antibiotic to help prevent infection, a muscle relaxer, and a mild narcotic for pain. Use the last two sparingly and try to wean yourself off by next week.”
I nodded, listening intently as Mila carefully laid a bulky sweater over my shoulders. Pushing my arms into the sleeves was not an option. The warmth of the familiar fabric engulfed me, and I sighed, the solace of being home feeling near.
“Are we done?” I glanced up at the doctor.
He smiled softly, laid a hand over mine, and gave it a light squeeze. “You’re going to make a full recovery. The scars shouldn’t be too noticeable after a few months to a year.”
Except for the fact that I’d always know they were there. Every time I wore a bathing suit or a strapless dress, people would see them. The one on my neck was not going to be easy to hide. Questions would arise, and what the heck was I supposed to say?
Yeah, my ex-husband hates me so much he wants me dead and gave me some stunning reminders to prove it.
As a psychiatrist, I knew it was going to be a long road to recovery for my mind and soul, not to mention my physical body. Though at that point, as a woman first, doctor second, I just wanted it all to go away. I wanted to go home, hug my daughter, wash my body of Kyle’s filthy hands, get into my bed, and pretend none of this ever happened.
Pretend once and for all that I didn’t love, marry, and ultimately divorce a psycho.
* * *
Mila held my hand as we eased up the two steps to my front door. It was late afternoon, closing in on six p.m. The vintage-style street lanterns flicked on, and the Bay breeze teased the leaves of the large oak tree shading my Berkeley home. I sucked in a full breath, reminding myself that I was alive, here, safe and sound. The stale antiseptic smell of the hospital still clung to me as Mila ushered me through the door, but I wouldn’t let it affect my mood. Not when I was going to see my baby girl.
The scent of garlic floated on the air as we entered, and my mouth watered. Hospital food wasn’t known for its palatable qualities, and my stay had been no different. Whatever was being cooked smelled heaven-sent.
A squeal of laughter bombarded my ears, and my heart began to pound. My love bug was close. The cloud of happiness and the comforts of home blazed like a healing balm across my ravaged soul. I held on to Mila as we walked into the kitchen, where I was stunned speechless.
I’d expected Atlas to be the one making my girl laugh like a hyena, but no. It was none other than Clayton Hart. The gorgeous man that I’d crushed on last year. We’d hit it off really well when we met, and then out of nowhere he bailed. Every time we’d see each other at Lotus House, he seemed to go out of his way to avoid me. I figured his feelings had changed, and yet…here he was, cooking up a storm, making my kid laugh. What in the world had I entered? The Twilight Zone?
Clayton faced the stove in a skin-tight black athletic tee and a pair of jeans that clung to every toned curve of his impressive backside. He hadn’t realized we were there, so I looked my fill as he shimmied his hips from side to side to the beat of “Faith” by George Michael, which was blaring from a phone sitting on the counter. Of course, at the center of the party, engrossed in his dance, was my Lily, clapping along and screaming “Faith” every time the word was sung by the ’80s pop star.
As we approached, Mila and I stared. Besides the fact that the song was highly inappropriate for a five-year-old—the man sung about touching bodies and being tied down—the way Mr. Hart was shaking his groove thang would make any nun switch sides from worshipping the God above to worshipping this man right here on earth.
Sweet baby Jesus, he was sexy, and boy, did the man have moves!
On the chorus, Clayton swung around holding up a baguette and pretended to sing into it for my daughter’s pleasure. I may have melted a little on the spot.
“King Clay is da bestest dancer!” She clapped and carried on, shifting her shoulders from left to right while she shook her little bootie on the barstool.
“And baaaaaabbbbbyyyyy…” Clayton belted and finally turned. His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose up toward his spiky blond hair when he realized we were standing there enjoying the show.
This was not what I expected to come home to. But on a scale of one to ten, this man’s entertainment value scored an eleven. The man had definitely not lost his sex appeal. The tee he wore looked even better from the front, stretched across the miles of muscles of his chest and abdomen. I could even see the hint of a dent at each abdominal brick as the T-shirt fell to the top of his jeans. Even feeling like I’d been run over by a semi couldn’t stop the carnal response of my body at seeing such a virile man. My nipples beaded against the flimsy top Mila had brought me to wear, sans bra. I wouldn’t be wearing one of those for a while. My mouth went dry as sandpaper while my head throbbed along with the music.
Clayton openly stared. His eyes seemed to rove over every inch of me before stopping at my gaze. “I didn’t think you’d be back yet.”
“Translation, you didn’t think you’d get caught singing your heart out with a pop god while entertaining a princess.” Mila blatantly stated the obvious.
“I’m da queen, Mimi!” Lily hooted, dancing like a loon.
“I mean the queen.” She bowed dramatically. “Excuse me, Your Highness.” Mila played along with my daughter’s game.
Clayton, on the other hand, didn’t so much as glance away. No, his entire focus was on me and me alone. “I decided to hang out and keep an eye on things while Atlas picked up clothes for him and Mila.” He reached for his phone and shut off the music.
My pounding head thanked him, but I didn’t respond. Instead, I swallowed the emotion welling up my throat and clung to the doorjamb for support. The weight of everything that had happened and what I was currently seeing sent a bout of exhaustion through me. I sucked in a breath and tried to be polite. “That was very nice of you. I, uh, can’t thank you enough for your help and stepping in when everything went to hell…erm…”
With just a few steps Clayton stood before me, and he enclosed my hands in his. “Monet, I…” He stopped as if he couldn’t find the right words before letting out a long breath. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was happy to help. Lily is a wonderful kid.” He smiled softly, and I watched his full lips spread apart, wondering in another life what it would have felt like to kiss those plump bits of flesh. Maybe if I’d pushed to talk to him at some point between last year and now, shown him I’d been interested, things would be different. Now there was no way he would want a divorcee who’d been damaged beyond repair by a psycho ex.
I shook off the daze and patted his hand, content to focus on my daughter. Anyone complimenting my baby got major kudos in my book. “Thank you. She is.”
“Dang, Clay, what smells so good?” Mila lifted the lid off a pot on the stove and sniffed. “We need to keep this guy around, Moe. He can cook!”
Clayton didn’t respond. He just continued to stare at me, his eyes traveling from my face to my neck and the bandage. Those crystal-blue eyes turned insanely dark in a second flat, and his jaw hardened.
I squeezed the hands still holding m
ine. “I’m okay. Thank you for your concern, but really, I’m going to be fine.”
“Damn right you are, and I’m going to make sure of it,” he growled. His eyes widened as if he didn’t mean to voice the sentiment out loud. “I mean…”
I shook my head and patted his hand once more. “It’s fine. There are a lot of good guys like you who want to take a jab at my ex right now.” I tried to lighten the weight of the moment with a laugh but failed miserably. I just didn’t have it in me.
Clayton cleared his throat. “You hungry? Lily and I made some turkey meatballs and spaghetti.”
My mouth watered at the reminder of real food. “Yes, starved.”
That simple comment seemed to make him happy, if his megawatt smile was anything to go by. “I’m glad, because I’ve made a feast! Come sit down. Get comfortable.”
He curled a hand lightly around my shoulders and led me to the family room. He helped ease me onto the end of the couch where I could easily reach the side table with my left arm. A small gesture but a huge one to me. He’d taken in my condition and accommodated it, making sure I could take care of myself easily. Such a nice guy.
I closed my eyes and settled in slowly, making sure not to let my stitches press against the back cushion. I should have braced, because the moment I sat down, Hurricane Lily slammed into my chest. Pain ripped through my back as she catapulted into my lap like she normally did.
“Mommy!” she screamed and bounced on me.
“Oomph, my God…” I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes to hold back tears.
Clayton was right there to help. He pulled Lily off me quickly and held her in his huge arms. “Hey, sweetie.” He nuzzled her neck which shocked me. “Mommy hurt her back. Remember when Uncle Atlas told you that Mommy was in an accident and got hurt?”
She nodded a bunch of times.
“Well, she has boo-boos there, and they are really tender right now. So how about instead of jumping on Mommy, you try and see how softly you can hug her and give her a kiss, yeah?”
“’Kay, King Clay, I can do that!” She wiggled her body until he set her down in front of me.
She eased in between my legs and put her hands on my cheeks. “You hurt?”
“Yeah, love bug, I am.” For the most part, I tried to be honest with Lily. She may have been five years old but I wanted her to know she could trust her mommy.
“I’m going to make you better,” she promised in the way that only a child could.
I held her in my arms and glanced up at the man watching me reconnect with my girl. Our eyes met over my daughter’s head, and I mouthed, “Thank you,” so he’d know I appreciated his concern and patience with Lily.
He nodded and left to go to the kitchen.
“You heard me, Mommy. I gonna make you better. Queen Lily.” This statement was more forceful and given with a conviction I understood very well, because she’d gotten that drive and determination from me.
“You already are, baby. You already are.” I buried my nose into her neck. The oatmeal-and-lavender bath wash mixed with my daughter’s natural scent soothed my senses, and I breathed her in. While I held her close, the last twenty-four hours came at me in a deluge of feelings.
Anger at Kyle for hurting me.
Fear that I could have not only lost my life but lost my daughter.
The injustice of this little girl not having a real father to care about her.
Unease that Kyle had gotten away. This wasn’t over. Not even close.
Shivers wracked my frame and tears fell down my cheeks as I thought about the nasty things Kyle had said he planned to do to my daughter in the event of my death. I sent up a prayer to God that he’d shown me mercy and prayed he’d protect her, protect us both.
Kyle was right about one thing and one thing only. Lily was not his daughter and she never would be. I gripped her so tight she cried out.
“Mommy…you hurting me.”
I swallowed and forced myself to let her go, my heart pounding a mile a minute. “Sorry, love bug. Mommy just loves you so much.” My voice cracked, and I wiped away the tears quickly.
Lily kissed my forehead, smiled, and then scampered off. In that moment, I vowed my daughter would stay a normal, happy child without a care in the world. She didn’t seem to have been bothered about the time I spent away or the fact that Clayton had taken care of her. A veritable stranger who had also stayed and made us all dinner. It was as if he’d quickly won her over, or she’d won him over.
Clayton entered the living room and set a dinner tray on the coffee table in front of me, placing the drink on the end table at my side. Then he moved the table closer so I wouldn’t have to bend too far to reach it. I watched intently as the muscles of his biceps and forearms bunched and shifted with each lurch of the table. He lifted his face and caught me staring. Like a smooth operator, he winked and made a clicking sound with his tongue.
So sexy.
The pain meds must have been making me loopy. Maybe my hormones were just all over the place. I closed my eyes to dissipate the image of his male strength and block out his suave demeanor so I could focus on the here and now. Food, sponge bath, snuggle time with Lily, and bed, in that order.
When I opened my eyes he was gone, but he’d left a steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs and a bowl of salad in front of me.
He came back with a napkin. “I didn’t know how hungry you’d be, so I loaded you up. I made plenty, and enough sauce for extras, which I thought I’d put into a lasagna so there will be another meal you won’t have to make.”
What was going on? Why was he even here?
“Clayton, this is amazing, but I don’t understand…” Tears filled my eyes and fell down my cheeks, my emotions getting the best of me again. There I sat, a pain-filled, torn-up mess, and this handsome man was being so…
“You don’t understand what?” He kneeled down in front of me and placed his hand on my knee.
I winced and sucked in a breath through my teeth when his large palm landed on the abraded skin—still so sensitive, even covered by my pajamas and a bandage.
I gritted through the pain. “Why are you being so nice to me? You don’t even know me, and before…”
“Before I was an idiot. I’ve cured myself of that condition,” he murmured. With a delicate touch, Clayton focused on my loose pajama pants and inch by inch raised them up from the ankle until my knee was exposed. The bandages were soiled through.
Clayton groaned. “Jeez-us, Monet. I’m going to need to change these.”
“You?” I choked out.
He nodded. “Unless Mila or Atlas has medical training.”
“I have medical training,” I reminded him.
“Yes, but you can’t and shouldn’t bend right now. My degree is in sports medicine and fitness. I even did a stint as a paramedic before I found my calling on the fitness side of health.”
Now that I had not known. I wondered if Atlas or Mila knew that about him.
“I assure you, Clayton, I can take care of myself.” The last thing I needed was this man to think I was weak. I’d been taking care of myself without a man for years and would do it through this situation too.
His head shot up from where he was inspecting my wound. “That you’ve proven by coming out of this alive. You’re not alone. You’ve got a lot of people who want to help. Let us help you.”
“But why do you want to help me? I’m nobody to you.”
He pressed one of his hands high on my thigh and squeezed, a supportive, not sexual touch. “You, beautiful, are somebody. A somebody I’m very interested in getting to know more about.” He offered a sexy smile.
He thinks I’m beautiful. Did I hear him right or were the drugs way better than I thought?
Mila walked in with Hurricane Lily behind her. “Uh, yeah, so is everything okay?” She put her hands on her hips and smirked at the scene before her.
Clayton didn’t move his hand from my thigh. Instead, he rubbed it back and
forth, reminding me it was there. “Just making sure our girl is all settled. You good?”
I swallowed and forced myself to stare into his eyes and nod. They were a dark blue that held a flash of excitement. I didn’t want to know what that meant. Not right now when I didn’t know which way was up, down, left, or right. He stood, winked again, and lifted Lily up into a fireman’s carry.
“Queen Lily, you ready for some pasta and meatballs?”
“Yes! King Clay!” she squealed and held on to his ribcage as best she could.
The only other man I’d seen her this free with was Atlas, and he’d had to earn her affection. Of course, he’d done so in spades with his silly shenanigans and free spirit, but after two days, which really was only a handful of hours, Clayton had done the impossible. He’d managed to get my girl to open up to him. Nicholas, our friend from the yoga studio, had made strides with Lily, and she liked him, but mostly she could take or leave the guy. Clayton came in and overnight had won her over. I didn’t know what that said about him as a man, but it didn’t hurt his appeal. Not that it mattered. He didn’t want me a year ago; he most certainly wouldn’t want the mess I was now. After he left today, I’d probably not see him again.
The second they were out of the room, Mila swooped in. “I see you’re our girl now. Hmmm, sounds intriguing.”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Don’t you start.”
She jutted her head back and raised her arms in a placating gesture. “Who, me? I would never!” she mocked dramatically.
“Mila, stop. It’s nothing. He’s just being nice. Helpful to a broken woman who was attacked. Good guys do that sort of thing.” I sighed knowing it was the truth. Clayton’s sudden interest in me would wane the second he left. As it should.
“If that’s nothing, then my ass is nothing, and we both know my ass is something. Something bangin’. What I just witnessed was a man falling over himself to take care of you. A sexy-as-fuck wall of muscle with insane blue eyes that didn’t leave your face for a second.”
Limitless Love: A Lotus House Novel: Book Four Page 4
