Chapter 14
Stefan
“O h, my gosh. Normal! Finally,” Francesca said as she turned the thermometer off and dropped it on the bed. She'd already taken my blood pressure and changed my IV bag.
“Are you ready for some supper? I picked up some hamburgers from downstairs. Bernie makes the best ones. And you could use some protein in you after the last few days.”
I nodded and grabbed the bottle of water off the bed. “Yeah, please.” I took a long gulp.
She got up and headed to the kitchen. I finally felt almost human again. It had been a long few days of feeling like supreme shit. But I could get to the bathroom by myself now. And I didn't feel like I was waiting at death's door any longer.
I only had Francesca to thank for that. She'd been here for me every minute. Morning and night. Watching over me. Making sure I was comfortable. Sleeping beside me—one hand on my arm at all times. It was fuckin' adorable.
The smell of cooking hamburgers soon filled the air. She'd opened a couple of windows, letting the breeze blow through the tiny space.
Everything was so—peaceful.
That concerned look that had lived on Francesca's face finally left. It was replaced with a much happier one. Her relief was palpable.
I loved watching her cook. And clean. And look after me.
I pretty much just—loved—her.
Francesca.
I was absolutely in love with that woman.
She hadn't called an ambulance when she one hundred percent wanted to.
She also hadn't called Nick or my asshole brother to come and help.
No.
She'd dealt with everything herself.
A while later, she brought over two plates and handed me one. She picked up the remote and turned to that show she always watched. It looked like one of the women and her family were in Hawaii.
“Oh, wow, look how beautiful that water is.” Francesca pointed at the TV while she sat on the bed beside me. She smiled at the screen and sighed. “I bet that sand is so soft.”
I nodded and grabbed my hamburger. “It is.
I'll take you there when I'm better.” And I fuckin' would.
“After I buy you a dozen tiny bikinis.” I smirked over at her, and she rolled her eyes.
I imagined her in a small, white bikini, only covering the absolutely necessary parts.
“Or would you rather go to the Bahamas?” I asked and took a huge bite of my burger.
Fuck, Francesca was right. Bernie made damn good burgers.
It was thick and juicy. She'd broiled it perfectly.
Francesca bit into her burger, too. Christ, I loved watching her eat. And this burger was the first real quality thing she'd brought into the apartment since I'd been here.
Once she moved in with me, quality was the only thing she'd ever eat again. No more limp lettuce and cucumbers for her.
“I'm serious,” I said after I swallowed. “Hawaii or the Bahamas? Or somewhere else? It's up to you. I owe you for everything you've done for me.”
She glanced at me and looked back at the TV.
“You don't owe me anything, Stefan. Except some silence so I can watch my show.” The woman on the TV had on a bikini.
She looked—okay. But nothing at all compared to how fucking fantastic Francesca would look in that bikini.
The family's four kids were walking with the woman and her husband.
And I had a vision of me and Francesca walking along the beach with our kids.
Yeah.
As soon as I could hold myself up, I was going to plant my baby inside of her. I couldn’t wait to start our life together.
Just her—and me. And the babies we'd make.
“I'm serious. Where do you want me to take you?” I reached over and squeezed her thigh.
“I don't know, honey. We'll check the flights when you're better, okay?” she said, keeping her eyes on the TV the whole time. It felt a little like a pat on the head. And I didn't appreciate it.
“I have my own plane, Chesca. We don't need to check anything. I tell my pilots where we want to go and they'll take us.”
Francesca immediately started choking. She set her plate on the bed and grabbed her water. “You have your own plane? As in airplane?” She looked over at me, still coughing.
I'd shocked her. And that pleased the fuck out of me.
“Yes, my airplane flies in the air,” I said, feeling my chest puff out a little more than usual. Francesca's life was going to completely change when I was all healed up. She should start to get used to the idea of having money. Because from now on, she would.
“That's bananas, Stefan. Nobody has their own plane.” She shook her head and put her glass of water down on the crate beside her. Then she started eating again.
“You'll have to quit your hospital job. If we're going away, then I'm not bringing you back home for months,” I told her the God's honest truth. Well, half of the truth, anyway. I wasn't bringing this woman back home until she was pregnant.
She picked up the remote and turned up the volume on the TV. “No, I won't. They fired me yesterday.”
I dropped my plate and pulled the remote out of her hands. I turned the TV off and grabbed her arm. “What do you mean, they fired you?”
She raised her eyebrows. “They fired me.”
I frowned and looked at her, feeling unbelievably confused. “Why? Because you took a few days off that they owed you?” I wasn't quite sure why I was so angry. I didn't want her working there. They'd done me a huge favor in getting rid of her.
“No, it was probably all the shit I stole. You know,” she gestured to the IV still dripping into my arm, “to keep you alive.”
Fuck.
I'd been in such a fevered haze that I hadn't considered where she'd gotten all this crap.
Fuck.
I was the reason she'd lost her job.
“You stole everything?”
She nodded and shrugged. “I tried to be careful. But I must've missed a camera or something.” She pulled the remote out of my hand and turned the TV back on. “It doesn't matter. I'll find another job soon enough. I always do.”
My stomach fell at hearing her words. She really didn't understand what was going on here.
“You're not getting another job. I have money for groceries, and I won't charge you rent.” I smiled at her, but she wasn't as amused. Why wasn't she jumping into my arms and thanking me for saving her from this fucking dump?
“Can we talk about it after my show? I haven't heard a word.”
Confusion, disappointment—and more confusion raced through me. Why was she acting this way? At any rate, I decided to drop it until later. Maybe she'd be in a better mood after her show.
Half an hour later, she still didn't want to discuss any travel plans. Or anything else. She did announce that it was time for me to get in the shower so she could change the sheets.
I was feeling pretty ripe, so I agreed. It was so much easier to get around now, but I still needed the chair in the shower. I did all my own washing. It took me a year, but at least I was able to do it myself. And get out of the shower and dry off.
When I opened the door, the kitchen was already cleaned, and she was in bed. Fuck, she looked amazing. Like she belonged on a centerfold instead of a shitty bed in a shitty apartment.
My stomach growled, which surprised me. I'd barely just finished supper.
Instead of heading to bed, I walked to the kitchen to grab something.
I tried to be as quiet as I could so I wouldn't wake Francesca.
She seemed even more exhausted than usual.
I opened a cupboard door and peeked in. A box of cookies sat on the middle shelf.
I pulled it down, wincing slightly at the way my wound tugged at the movement.
They were cheap, crappy cookies, but they hit the spot.
I crunched down a good handful of them before slipping the box back into the cupboard.
I spotted an empty bag on the counter. Francesca must've forgotten to put it away.
I picked it up and looked inside. A small piece of paper floated to the floor.
With some effort, I crouched down and grabbed it.
The light from the bathroom was still on, so I was able to see the words clearly enough.
It had the name of a church on it—nearby, from a quick look at the address.
And underneath that it read—food bank.
The groceries Francesca had brought home were from a fucking food bank.
“Jesus,” I whispered as I crumpled the paper in my hand. This was goddamn disturbing. I'd been reduced to being a fucking charity case.
Fuck.
Knowing I'd just eaten food that was meant for someone who couldn't afford food made me—angry. And knowing that Francesca had been the one to search out the food bank, walk inside, get the food, and bring it back home—I shook my head.
Never again.
My woman would never have to do this.