Chapter Eighteen
I SAT ON MY COUCH watching Ian be Ian. He did all the Ian things, like ordering my favorites from Alicia’s and having them delivered.
I didn’t even know that was an option, but Ian had worked it out with Jose.
Then he made sure I was as comfortable as I could be on the couch, propping pillows around me. He also filled my prescriptions for me.
Ian brought me my dinner and some pain meds. The doctor said I could take a higher dose up front, and I planned to. This way I would fall asleep fast and my sleepover with Ian would be over before I knew it.
Dinner was mostly a silent affair, but the looks and body language were loud.
Ian shifted several times on the opposite side of the couch from me.
We kept glancing at each other with vacant expressions.
Sometimes his was more like puzzled. He probably thought I was a freak of nature; someone they could make a documentary about. It could be called, Virgin Tales.
There was so much that needed to be said, but I didn’t know where to begin and my head was a little fuzzy. I also had a feeling Ian wasn’t ready to deal with it either. I’m sure he had a plan and a timetable, but somehow the accident changed all that.
By the time I was done picking at my smothered burritos, I was feeling more than loopy. Unfortunately, I had no desire to sleep in jeans and my arm and hand were still under the influence of anesthesia. Ian was going to have to help me undress.
“I’m tired. I need to change into some more comfortable clothes.” I cringed.
To his credit he only half smiled. “Would you like my help?”
I bit my lip. “I don’t think I have a choice.”
He slid across the couch and took my plate before setting it on my coffee table. “You’ll always have a choice with me.”
He had said the same thing to me before.
Never once when we were dating had he tried to take advantage of me.
I probably pushed the line more than him, but he always made sure we never crossed it.
“What choices are you offering me?” I rubbed my head with my working hand. The medication was really kicking in.
He stood and pulled me up. “You’re tired and we’ve both had a long day. Let’s talk later.”
That was probably a good idea. It was probably good, too, that I wasn’t fully cognizant when he started unbuttoning my shirt.
His eyes never drifted down, even though I was doing my best to keep it from falling wide open.
Being so close to him, though, had me wanting to get lost in his eyes and fall into his arms. Maybe it was the drugs, but this urge came over me and my lips fell on his.
At first, he kissed me back, but just as he was about to part my lips, he stopped abruptly. “Please don’t tempt me right now,” he whispered against my lips.
I backed away shaking my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
He ran a finger down my cheek. “Don’t apologize, you’re in a vulnerable state now and I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”
I was already regretting allowing him to sleepover. I mean, what were the odds of me having any concussion symptoms? And one-handed people functioned all the time. I held onto my shirt and walked away toward the hall leading to the bedrooms.
Ian gently grabbed my arm on the way. “Hey. Please don’t be embarrassed.” He knew me too well. “I was trying not to enjoy myself too much. You’re making that difficult,” he added.
The conversation we had in the hospital about men enjoying unbuttoning rang in my head. “I should go change.”
“I’ll get the couch ready for you.”
I had decided it was best for me to sleep on the couch while he was here.
He had volunteered to sleep on the floor in my room, but the thought of him sleeping in my room was going to throw me over the edge.
I had imagined us sharing a room and a bed too many times, you know until death do us part, or forever.
If I couldn’t keep my lips off him, who knew what would happen.
Probably nothing, because Ian wouldn’t allow me to do anything I would regret.
I walked into my room, shut the door, and tried to breathe normally.
He was getting to me. It was then I decided I was wearing sweats; they had elastic bands.
I also managed to get on a t-shirt. It hurt like heck, but there was no way I was asking Ian to help me.
I could imagine Amanda and Zane laughing now.
It didn’t take long before I was treated to the real thing.
While brushing my teeth and lamenting over how awful I looked—bruises weren’t my color—my phone rang.
“How are you? Tell me everything that happened. Is Ian there with you?” Amanda spouted out so quickly I barely comprehended what she was saying. It didn’t help that I was feeling higher than a kite.
“I’m fine, and yes, Ian is here.”
Amanda squealed like a preteen. “I can’t believe you’re sleeping with him.”
“We’re not sleeping together. He’s sleeping on my loveseat and I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“I’m pretty sure two can fit on your couch.”
“Amanda, he’s my boss and you should see how I look. Besides, I can barely walk, I hurt so bad.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I wish I was there to take care of you. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. Ian has been taking great care of me.”
“You know he cares for you, right?”
I sat down on my bed. I was feeling woozy.
“Kelli?”
“I’m here. I’m really confused right now.”
“Try not to over think it. You’re good at that.”
“It’s kept me from getting involved with some real idiots.”
“It’s also kept you from some great guys too.”
“You think Ian is a good guy?”
“I think Ian has made some choices he regrets, like we all do, but I like a man who is willing to do whatever it takes to right them.”
“Is that what you think he’s doing?”
“The question is, do you?”
I painstakingly laid down on my bed. “I don’t know. He thinks I’m too vulnerable to talk right now.”
“I’m liking him even more.”
Yeah, I kind of was too. “I better go.”
“Hey, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do tonight.” She evilly laughed.
“Good night, Amanda.”
I threw my phone on my bed and walked out to find blankets and pillows on the couch. Ian rushed to my side to help me to the couch and settle in. He sat on the edge, close to me, and touched my face softly. “I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating.
I had a feeling he wasn’t only talking about the accident. I reached up and grabbed his hand and held it. “We really need to talk.”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. “Not tonight,” he whispered against my lips that already missed his.
I was so torn, part of me wanted to pull him back and kiss him thoroughly. The other part wanted to shake him and make him tell me why, after all these years.
“But . . .” I barely managed to say. My eyes were already becoming heavy.
“Just sleep,” I heard him say before I did as he said.
I don’t know how long I slept, but I woke up in the pitch dark of night feeling disoriented and hurting. I tried to sit up, only to find that difficult. I cried out in pain.
“Are you okay, Kelli?”
That voice jarred my memory, as did his touch. He was by my side lightning fast, helping me to sit up. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see him. The “him” that had left me and hurt me. A wave of memories and pain washed over me. “I loved you and you left me. Why?”
Even in the dark I could see his eyes widen. “Kelli, I don’t think we should talk about that right now.”
“Stop saying that,” I cried. But before he could answer, I snapped, and a flood of uncontrollable words fell right out of me. “It’s because I don’t have big boobs and blonde hair like Alexa and your ex-wife.”
His jaw dropped.
“That’s right, my sister and I googled you and your big-breasted wife.”
He chuckled. “Kelli, you don’t know what you’re saying right now.”
“I do know what I’m saying, I just can’t help what I’m saying. I deserve to know after all these years.”
He took my hand and I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me. “Please Kelli, let’s have this conversation when you aren’t under the influence of painkillers.”
“Maybe you should go.” I sniffled.
“Fine,” he sighed, “we’ll have it your way.
” He let go of my hand and ran a finger softly down my cheek.
“Kelli, first of all, this has nothing to do with the size of your breasts or the color of your hair. You are the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance, but you were so young and innocent. It was against my better judgment to get involved with you in the first place.”
“So, you never wanted me?” My emotional state came right through. On some level, I knew I would regret it, but the drugs in my system were having a heyday.
He shook his head. “I didn’t say that.” He moved in closer. “I never wanted another woman more than you, but I wasn’t ready for you, and you lacked experience with men and relationships.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He stood and began pacing the floor, just like he had the night it all fell apart. He didn’t speak for a couple of minutes, and when he did, he still kept pacing. “It means I wasn’t ready to get married, especially to a girl who hadn’t even experienced life.”
“I didn’t ask you to marry me. I knew you didn’t want to at the time.”
He stopped pacing and faced me. “The problem was,” he paused, “I wanted to marry you.”
What? I shook my head in confusion. Well, as much as I could. My head was pounding. “I don’t understand.”
He knelt next to me beside the couch, so that he could look directly into my eyes. “I loved you and I wanted nothing more than to be with you, but I had nothing to offer, and you were so young.”
“Then why didn’t you just tell me that instead of walking away like I didn’t matter to you at all? Wait . . . did you say you loved me?”