“Uh, now really isn’t a good time, Becky,” Declan says quietly.
Becky lives two floors below us. She’s a model, and every single thing she says ends in an exclamation mark. Including her orgasms, which I’ve had the displeasure of listening to on more than one occasion when she’s invited herself over for a booty call. It also drives me up the wall that she calls Declan “Decky.”
“No problem. I’m around for a few days before I have to take off for Spain! I got a hot new tattoo and I’d love to show you!”
I can practically feel her exaggerated wink.
If my wheelchair wasn’t on the other side of the couch, I would 100 percent try to get my ass out of this room so I don’t have to listen to her horrible voice, or Declan planning his next hookup.
“Yeah, I’m not sure if that’s gonna work out, but thanks for the offer.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Do you have a girlfriend now or something?”
“Uh … or something. It’s complicated.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“Well, if you get tired of complicated, you know where to find me!”
“Uh, okay, thanks, Becky. See ya later.”
“Bye-bye!”
Declan closes the door and remains facing it for several seconds before he finally slides the chain latch back into place and turns around. “I’m sorry about that.”
“You can go if you really want to.” I motion to the closed door, and for some reason my stomach knots. Declan has hooked up with lots of women over the course of our friendship. It’s never bothered me before. Maybe it’s because a woman literally showed up at our door offering herself to him, and there’s no way I’ll be getting any kind of gratification in the coming weeks. Or that he made my lady parts aware of their plight by giving me a back rub, of all things.
Declan arches a brow. “Uh, yeah, that’s not gonna happen, Ave.”
“Just because I can’t get action doesn’t mean everyone else shouldn’t.” And now I’m snippy.
“While I might agree that not everyone should have to go without action, I’m going to go ahead and say that if anyone shouldn’t be getting their rocks off right now, it’s me, especially considering the circumstances.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Besides, she sounds like she’s auditioning for a porn star role every time she comes, and I’m honestly not interested. Plus, I wouldn’t subject you to that noise, and I’m not leaving you alone for an hour so I can unload somewhere other than the shower.”
“Is that your whack-off location of choice?” I’m going for cheeky, but I’m not sure that’s how it comes across.
He flops down on the couch beside me. “Makes the least mess, plus it’s like double duty. Get clean and take care of business all at the same time. That way I can start my day with a clear head.”
“But doesn’t it make you tired? Like don’t you want to pass out right after?”
“Right before bed, sure, but first thing in the morning it’s like an espresso shot, wakes me right up. At night it’s more like a sedative, helps me stop all the wheels from turning.” He taps his temple.
“Huh. Well that’s … enlightening.” And not something I need to be thinking about right now.
Declan picks up the remote. “Wanna watch 50 First Dates?”
“I’m more in the mood for action today. How about Thor or something?” I can’t handle watching people falling in love and making out, not with my emotions and my hormones all over the place.
“You just want to see a shirtless Hemsworth.” He scrolls through the movie options and stretches his other arm across the back of the couch.
“You’re not wrong.” I have a great love of all things Thor.
He tugs on my shoulder, pulling me into his side.
“Don’t you have work to do today?” He’s spent his entire morning with me at the doctor’s, and I’m well aware that there are nights he stays up late so he can finish things he doesn’t manage to get done during the day.
“Work isn’t going anywhere. It can wait a couple of hours.”
I rest my head on his shoulder, thinking about how nice this is, and how I’m going to miss it when things go back to normal.
* * *
“This woman is a total bridezilla! If ever there was an event you should be happy you can tap out of, it’s this one!” London spears an almond-stuffed olive with a toothpick.
“She’s that bad?” I pop a baby gherkin into my mouth and go back to folding Declan’s laundry. It’s not easy one-handed, but it’s honestly the least I can do for him since he’s doing so much for me.
“She’s a step above ‘that bad,’” London says.
“She seemed pretty normal in the initial emails.”
“That’s because you were dealing with her sister, who’s actually reasonable.” Harley tucks her hair behind her ears and crosses her legs like it’s carpet time in kindergarten. “Last week she cc’d the bride, and the shit hit the fan.”