“Can I get you anything?” Trick whispers in my ear, pressing his body to my back.
“Aside from out of here?” I say through clenched teeth behind my fake smile that’s just big enough to say thank you for coming but not too big to overshadow my expected grief.
“I love you.” He kisses the top of my head and steps back. I don’t think he’s as immune to Rachel’s icy glare as I am. And for whatever she’s-so-damn-bat-shit-crazy reason, she keeps looking behind us to make sure he’s in the shadows and not lurking too close to her.
“Hey, Darby.”
I look left to a familiar voice and smile when I see Jade and several other ER nurses waiting to pay their respects. For the first time all evening I tear up and it has nothing to do with my father. I’m just beside myself with emotion that they came here for me.
“Hey.” I hug each one of them and wipe my tears … tears they’ll never know are for their kindness.
By the end of the night at least a dozen other nurses, PAs, and doctors come through the line. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I have become so paranoid of judgment in my life that I act preemptively and judge other people first.
Life lesson learned.
*
There’s a somberness in the air when we arrive home from the visitation. I think the exhaustion of traveling, dealing with the adrenaline of the events at the hospital, and now a long visitation is catching up with us.
“Tamsen and I are going out for a drink.” Grady winks at me and Trick as we get out of the back of his car. “We’ll be back in let’s say … two hours?”
Trick nods to Grady, and Tamsen grins, waving at me through the passenger window.
“Come.” Trick takes my hand, pulling me toward the elevator while Grady and Tamsen back out of the garage.
“Did you tell them to give us time alone? For sex?”
Trick chuckles as we step off the elevator. Then he takes my jacket. “Grady’s itching to go out so he’s using us as his excuse.” He pulls me into his arms. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to have sex.”
I nod once, wrapping my arms around him. We did just get back from my father’s visitation, and I haven’t slept that well. Exhaustion is an understatement, but do I like that Trick’s taking sex off the table? No!
“I’m going to change and brush my teeth.” He releases me and walks toward the bathroom.
I watch him, admiring the way his white dress shirt hugs his shoulders. I slip out of my dress and walk around the corner into the bathroom wearing just my black panties and strapless bra. Trick spits toothpaste into the sink and wipes his mouth as I start brushing my teeth. Glancing up at his reflection in the mirror, I catch his eyes perusing the length of my body as he unbuttons his shirt. When he shrugs it off his shoulders, I make a quick spit before I either choke on it or swallow it down.
Turning, I rest my hands on the edge of the vanity and lean back against them. Trick unfastens his dress pants, letting them fall to the floor before stepping out of them and removing his socks. I wet my lips. My eyes take in the artistic terrain I’ve come to love and crave. It takes a few moments for me to realize he’s standing still. I shift my eyes to his face.
He’s trying not to look cocky, but failing. “You’re staring.”
“I am.” I grin.
“Because?” He moves closer.
I stand straight, resting my hands on his chest. “Because I can.”
His hands slide up my sides and around my back, unclasping my bra. It falls to our feet.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Admiring my beautiful wife…” his lips brush along my jaw to my ear “…because I can.”
Chapter Forty-Five
I buried my father today—no tears, no pain. Even now, the only emotion I recognize is guilt. I must have had an allotted number of tears for him, and I used them all up the other night. The pathetic part … I actually tried to think of something sadder than my father’s death to draw out a few. My lack of emotion garnered more attention than Rachel’s Hollywood worthy act of grief. I’m pretty certain she squirted something in her eyes to get them to water so damn much.
“Nana?” Trick asks as my phone chimes with a text.
“Nope. Rachel.” I shake my head then stare back out the window, entranced by the mesmerizing sparkle of Chicago’s skyline coming into view against the descending darkness. “We left her, the grieving widow, thirty minutes ago and she’s already demanding I find time to get my father’s stuff from the house we just left and her penthouse in New York.” I laugh. “Unbelievable. He was her husband. Why doesn’t she deal with his shit? Does she honestly think I’m going to find some precious, sentimental memento that I can’t live without?”