She turns to look at me. “Perhaps we should, but you’re going to end up being here every night anyway. What’s the point?”
I nod in agreement. Looking at the empty closet a thought comes to me. “So when Mark lived here, where did he put his things?”
Liv smirks. “In the spare room.” She laughs.
“Well I could put my stuff there, you didn’t have to do this.”
“No! Mark just lived at ‘my’ house, I want us to live together. Properly.” She squeezes my hand. “But whenever you’re ready. If you want to slow things down, I don’t mind.”
“You know I don’t.” I say kissing her again.
Chapter Sixteen
Danny
You know what you’re doing.
It’s over a month since I moved my stuff over from Max’s place. Liv hired two new members of staff and I work less, so now we can spend some evenings together. I finished my project and I’ve been freelancing for Charlie’s firm. I thought about taking a vacation, but that's artificial life again, we need normal, it really suits us. Liv’s recovery has been on hiatus, due to this screw that still needs to be removed and that’s the reason I’m awake so ridiculously early watching her sleep. Today, I have to take her to the hospital to have her second surgery and I’m worried sick about it.
She has been really anxious, she can’t face a setback after so long. She’s convinced that she will be worse off tomorrow than she was yesterday. But this has to be done so that she can get back to normal. I don’t think this will set her back, that’s not my concern. I’m just worried about handing her over for the surgery. The day of her last surgery was awful. Seeing her like that…well it’s something I never want to go through again. I arrived in the middle of it all, while she was in surgery. Frantic with worry having been alone on a plane with no updates and when I did get to see her it killed me. Her face was all banged up and she was still unconscious. I stroked her face gently where she had no bruising and sat beside her silently. Then when she started to wake up, I had to leave in case she saw me. I didn’t see her again for days, I just had to live with that image, while hiding away and taking rejection after rejection.
Well this time, I’m driving her, I’m sitting by her bedside, I’m bringing her home and I’m taking care of her. I think everyone understands what this means to me because we’ve had no interference from Max or Connie. They just accept that I will be taking care of her. My stomach turns over again at the thought of her being wheeled away and put to sleep. She'll be okay, I just don’t like it. I watch her sleeping peacefully now, she is so beautiful. Then the silence is broken by the alarm.
“Hi,” she murmurs as I shut it off. “How did you sleep?”
“Badly.” I kiss her forehead and get up to run the shower.
“How about you?”
“Okay, considering.” She stretches and turns to watch me. “I just want to get it over with and be home in bed with you watching films.”
“By tonight you will be,” I tell her as I return to the bed and scoop her up.
“Promise?” She smiles wrapping her arms around me.
“Promise.”
I carry her to the shower and, as is now our routine, hold her steady while we help each other wash. I want her back to normal as soon as possible for lots of reasons, but I will miss this time, where she needs me.
We dress quietly, both lost in thought. Then we head straight out. Liv can’t eat or drink and she has to check in by 8:30 am, so we have timed getting up to only leave time for a shower. We didn’t want to be sitting around thinking about the surgery or food, we just want to get it over with. I haven’t eaten since she last ate, partly in support of her, but equally because I’m too tense to eat anything.
At the hospital, she is luckily first on the list so there is no waiting around for her. I have to kiss her goodbye virtually at the door. Then it’s just a waiting game. For almost two hours that seem like days, I read the old magazines and pace around, then finally I’m told she’s been brought out and I can see her.
She is a sight for sore eyes. I pull the chair close and stroke her face. For a while she sleeps, but then she starts to come out of it, mumbling and drifting in and out. Then finally, she opens her eyes.
“Hi,” she croaks.
“Hi,” I whisper, holding her hand. I feel less tense immediately. I know it’s irrational, of course she was going to be okay.
Before long she is sitting up, talking to her mom and Connie on the phone. Max brings us both sandwiches, fruit, coffees and sodas, which we both need badly and we eat greedily. He hangs with us for a while, but has to go back to work.
Then at 4:00 pm, when Liv is starting to get really restless, the surgeon does his rounds.
“Well, everything looks great,” he says with a little too much delight. “You have healed nicely, so I’m happy to hand you over to the physio team for the rest of your care. Someone will come and see you shortly and then we’ll get you off home. You need to wear the bandage for a couple of days and then see the nurse at your GP’s to have the stitches taken out.’
“Okay,” Liv says. “And when will I be able to put weight on it?”
“Now, today.” He smiles. “I want you walking on it before you go home. Physio with go through the exercises you need to do, but from now on, you are working towards getting back to normal.”
“Wow, okay,” she says, wide-eyed.
“But I doubt you’ll be wearing heels anytime soon,” he adds.
I scoff and Liv laughs too. “Not really a problem for me,” she says. “I’m not a heels girl.”
“Oh, I see. Well, you are my ideal patient, in that case.” He chuckles.
“When do you think I can get back to work?” she asks, casually, although I know this is her burning question.
“It depends how demanding your job is.”
“As demanding as it gets,” she replies.
“Oh of course, the bar and restaurant. I want you to take another two weeks off and then ease back into it. I think you will find it difficult to begin with, but stick to the physio and take it slowly. If it aches, rest, if it swells, rest. Keep up with the ice. It’s a slow process, but I’m confident that you will be back to normal before you know it.”
“Thank you.” She sounds optimistic about things.
The surgeon leaves us and is soon replaced by the physiotherapist, who gets Liv straight out of bed and on her feet, both of them! They go for a walk in the halls and test out Liv’s abilities on the stairs. Then she runs through some sets of exercises for her to repeat several times a day. I try to take in as much as I can, because I know Liv is overwhelmed by it all and I don’t want her to miss anything.
“Oh my God!” she whispers as the therapist leaves to finish Liv’s discharge notes. “I can’t believe I’m allowed to walk on it this soon.” She’s grinning ear to ear. “I thought it would take ages!”
“You did so well. Did it hurt?”
“Not really. It’s weird though.” She laughs.
Once Liv is dressed, I hand her the soft canvas shoes she hoped she could fit on to wear home.
“I thought I’d be all swollen again, these are okay.” She slips the shoe over the gauze that holds her dressing in place then fixes her crutches ready to leave.
I pick up her notes and bag. “Let’s go home,” I say with relief. It’s still a long road, but we are done with this place.”
We thank the staff as we leave and Liv smiles as we slowly make our way out to the parking lot.
“I feel like I should do something,” she says as we cross the road.
“Something?”
“Yeah, something to celebrate.”
