He pauses the movie. “Because I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with me and have no options. Because you’re living in my house and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” His voice is gruff. I can feel his gaze sweep down to my lips before he focuses intently on my eyes.
My eyebrows twitch down for a second in confusion. He’s shown me such kindness, and I wonder if I were better, in a position to leave if he made me feel uncomfortable, if his stance on making a move would change. There is an odd sort of comfort in knowing I am completely safe with this man who, somewhere along the way, stopped being a stranger and started to be my friend. I wonder if he thinks about us being more than that. Is there anything more attractive in a partner than that?
“I’m not uncomfortable,” I say. “So, let’s go back to the movie.”
Charlie nods and turns the movie back on.
The dance between us as we move closer to Halloween gets more awkward as I find myself looking for reasons to be around Charlie.
He takes me to my appointments and uses me as a way out of going into the office. I know he has friends outside of work, but it never comes up that he’s skipping out on seeing them when he spends most nights either working or with me. I hate to see him working so hard with what seems like so little reward. He’s making so much money, but what good is it if he’s unable to take the time to enjoy it? Even though he’s not in the office, he’s still working just as hard if not harder, taking calls from the car, stepping into different rooms at the hospital during my check-ins to continue his calls.
The visit to get my arm and leg casts off is quick, but it delivers a hell of a surprise. Charlie admits that he has to go back into the office again. It was to be expected. I knew this day was coming, but it doesn't feel any less like a punch in the gut. I’ve grown used to having him around, finding any reason at all to be near him. It was inevitable that this was going to end, but his return to the office feels like it’s hastening the timeline.
When we get into the apartment there is a long slender box sitting on top of the island. Charlie glances at it, then at me.
“Before you jump into the shower I know you’re desperate to get to, this is for you.” He slides the box closer to me. Glad as I am to be out of the cast, I still slip into a seat at the island to take the weight off my foot. It’s going to take some getting used to the freedom and range of motion again.
I give Charlie a look, one that I know is useless. He’s going to do what he wants, buy what he wants, regardless of my objections. I should have known what was in the box, but I can’t stop the gasp that escapes my mouth when I manage to wrangle the box open. Laying within it is a gorgeous long cane. The shaft of it is black, it has a mother of pearl handle, and intricate carvings along the side. Gently, I rub my fingers along it.
“Thank you,” I manage to choke out. I’ve felt so clumsy using my crutches with my hand in a cast as well. My gait was thrown off by it, so having the cane, something that will make my life easier, even remotely, makes me want to cry. Even I hadn't considered what I was going to do. I figured when I did get out of the cast, I would limp along, probably causing more damage.
I don’t hesitate to hop off the stool and throw my arms around his neck. My ear is pressed to his chest when his arms come around me, squeezing me. It might be my imagination, but I think that I can hear his heartbeat speed up just a little.
Releasing him, I give him a watery smile. To break the tension, I want to make a joke about how it looks like a cane my grandmother would have had.
“Wanted to make sure that you could still move and groove in style.”
“Get me an old lady wig and my Halloween costume is complete.”
Charlie snorts. I want to say something snarky to that snort, but we both hear his phone vibrate in his pocket.
“Let’s take it out for a spin tonight. I might have lied on my schedule so we could go out to dinner to celebrate your cast coming off. I’ve got a reservation nearby that we could walk to if you’re up to it.” His phone vibrates again.
“That sounds good.” I take the cane out of the box, testing the height, and how it works. I leave Charlie to take his call, using my new cane to cross back to my room, glad to not need a crutch jammed in my armpit anymore.
The water feels amazing on my leg as I gently wash it. And then wash it again. I like the idea of having a night out of the house. I swore I was going to start wearing leggings, but if we’re going out for dinner, I want to dress up. That nagging insecure part of my brain tells me that I’m close to being fully healed and he’s going to tire of playing hero to my damsel in distress. Charlie has only seen me as this damaged bird in need of saving, but I wonder what possibilities it would open between us if he started to see me as something more.
I go the whole nine. Clean hair, plucked eyebrows, shaved legs. Not that I expect Charlie to be touching my legs, but it still is nice to feel my smooth leg. I take the time to style my hair, surprised even after these few weeks that it’s this shade of blonde.
I had once or twice toyed with the idea of dying my hair blonde after a college boyfriend said he liked blondes, but it was never more than that. It's definitely more platinum than I would have picked. I like to think I would have gone for more of a honey color, but it is what it is.
I wonder what made me dye my hair. They say after a serious break-up women are more likely to make a drastic change like this. Maybe I did have a boyfriend and we ended things. My hair is more grown out, obvious around the roots that I haven’t touched it up given the darker shade there.
I take time curling it, letting it settle me. I’m surprisingly anxious about what a night out with Charlie will look like. I know that my clothes aren’t the fanciest but I feel good, probably better than I have in weeks. It’s amazing what some mascara, a blow dryer, and being able to move your ankle can do.
I practice using the cane with sneakers and my new boot. It doesn’t make for the cutest outfit, athletic shoes and a forest green dress, but I make it work.
Charlie emerges five minutes after he said he would, but I’m not going to sweat the small stuff. He’s dressed more formally than I expected. It’s still casual, but office casual. His white button down is unbuttoned on the top and he has no tie, but he’s added a suit jacket, and I can’t stop the stuttering in my chest. The man is a walking sin.
I feel his eyes travel my body, admiring the length of my legs, up to my face.
“You seem to be tolerating the boot well.”
“Wow, with romantic words like that, it’s a wonder the ladies aren’t breaking down the door,” I taunt, pulling on the supple leather jacket that he surprised me with one afternoon after I shivered between the door and the cab going to the doctor’s office. It’s nice to have a real reason to wear it.
Charlie reaches forward, scooping my hair out so it isn’t caught within my jacket. He’s stepped in like that before when I was struggling with a jacket, bag and crutches, but now it’s less necessary. Charlie’s fingertips brush my neck when he does it and his eyes drift to the spot where he touched me. They flick to my lips then back to my eyes, a small blush on his cheeks when he sees that I’ve caught him.
“Oh, you know me, and all the time I have to woo the ladies.” Charlie offers me an arm, pretending like none of that happened. Cautiously, I slide my arm into his, letting him lead the way.