My phone rings. I pick it up to see who it is and Iโm a little taken aback. Itโs the ๏ฌrst time Ryle has ever called me. We always just text. How odd to have a boyfriend for over three months that Iโve never once spoken to on the phone.
โHello?โ
โHey, girlfriend,โ he says.
I smile cheesily at the sound of his voice. โHey, boyfriend.โ โGuess what?โ
โWhat?โ
โIโm taking the day off tomorrow. Your ๏ฌoral shop doesnโt open until one oโclock on Sundays. Iโm on my way to your apartment with two bottles of wine. You want to have a sleepover with your boyfriend and have drunken s*x all night and sleep until noon?โ
Itโs really embarrassing what his words do to me. I smile and say, โGuess what?โ
โWhat?โ
โIโm cooking you dinner. And Iโm wearing an apron.โ โOh yeah?โ he says.
โJustย an apron.โ And then I hang up.
A few seconds later, I get a text message.ย Ryle: Pic, please.
Me: Get over here and you can take the picture yourself.
Iโm almost ๏ฌnished preparing the casserole mixture when the door opens. I pour it into the glass pan and donโt turn around when I hear him walk into the kitchen. When I said I was just wearing an apron, I meant it. Iโm not even wearing panties.
I can hear him suck in a rush of air when I reach over to the oven and stick the casserole inside. I might reach a little too far for show when I do it. When I close the oven, I donโt face him. I grab a rag and start wiping down the oven, making sure to sway my hips as much as possible. I squeal when I feel a piercing sting on my right
butt cheek. I spin around and Ryle is grinning, holding two bottles of wine.
โDid you justย biteย me?โ
He gives me an innocent look. โDonโt tempt the scorpion if you donโt want to get stung.โ He eyes me up and down while he opens one of the bottles. He holds it up before he pours us a glass and says, โItโs vintage.โ
โVintage,โ I say with mock impression. โWhatโs the special occasion?โ
He hands me a glass and says, โIโm going to be an uncle. I have a smoking hot girlfriend. And I get to perform a very rare, possibly once-in-a-lifetime craniopagus separation on Monday.โ
โA cranio-what?โ
He ๏ฌnishes off his glass of wine and pours himself another one. โCraniopagus separation. Conjoined twins,โ he says. He points to a spot on the top of his head and taps it. โAttached right here. Weโve been studying them since they were born. Itโs a very rare surgery.ย Veryย rare.โ
For the ๏ฌrst time, I think Iโm genuinely turned on by him as a
doctor. I mean, I admire his drive. I admire his dedication. But seeing how excited he is about what heโs doing for a living is seriously s*xy.
โHow long do you think itโll take?โ I ask.
He shrugs. โNot sure. Theyโre young, so being under general anesthesia for too long is a concern.โ He holds up his right hand and wiggles his ๏ฌngers. โBut this is a very special hand that has been through almost half a million dollarsโ worth of specialty education. I have a lot of faith in this hand.โ
I walk over to him and press my lips to his palm. โIโm a little fond of this hand, too.โ
He slides the hand down to my neck and then spins me so that Iโm ๏ฌush against the counter. I gasp, because I wasnโt expecting that.
He pushes himself against me from behind and slowly slides his hand down the side of my body. I press my palms into the granite and close my eyes, already feeling the rush of the wine.
โThis hand,โ he whispers, โis the steadiest hand in all of Boston.โ
He pushes on the back of my neck, bending me further over the counter. His hand meets the inside of my knee and he glides it upward. Slowly.ย Jesus.
He pushes my legs apart, and then his ๏ฌngers are inside me. I
moan and try to ๏ฌnd something to hold on to. I grip the faucet, just as he begins to work magic.
And then, just like a magician, his hand disappears.
I hear him walking out of the kitchen. I watch as he passes the front of the counter. He winks at me, downs the rest of his glass of wine and says, โIโm gonna take a quick shower.โ
What a tease.
โYou asshole!โ I yell after him.
โIโm not an asshole!โ he yells from my bedroom. โIโm a highly trained neurosurgeon!โ
I laugh and pour myself another glass of wine. Iโll show him who the tease really is.
โข โข โข
Iโm on my third glass of wine when he walks out of my bedroom.
Iโm on the phone with my mother, so I watch him from the couch as he makes his way to the kitchen and pours himself another glass.
That is some seriously good wine.
โWhat are you doing tonight?โ my mother asks.
I have her on speakerphone. Ryle is leaning against a wall, watching me talk to her. โNot much. Helping Ryle study.โ
โThat sounds . . . not very interesting,โ she says. Ryle winks at me.
โItโs actually very interesting,โ I say to her. โI help him study a lot. Mostly reviewing ๏ฌne-motor control of the hands. In fact, weโll probably be up all night studying.โ
The three glasses of wine has made me frisky. I canโt believe Iโm ๏ฌirting with him while Iโm on the phone with my mother.ย Gross.
โI gotta go,โ I tell her. โWeโre taking Allysa and Marshall out to
dinner tomorrow night, so Iโll call you on Monday.โ โOh, where are you taking them?โ
I roll my eyes. The woman canโt take a hint. โI donโt know. Ryle, where are we taking them?โ
โThat place we went to that one time with your mom,โ he says. โBibโs? I made reservations for six oโclock.โ
My heart feels like it slinks down my chest. My mother says, โOh, good choice.โ
โYeah. If you like stale bread. Bye, Mom.โ I hang up and look at Ryle. โI donโt want to go back there. I didnโt like it. Letโs try something new.โ
I fail to tell him why Iย reallyย donโt want to go back there. But how do you tell your brand-new boyfriend that youโre trying to avoid your ๏ฌrst love?
Ryle pushes off the wall. โYouโll be ๏ฌne,โ he says. โAllysaโs excited to eat there, I told her all about it.โ
Maybe Iโll get lucky and Atlas wonโt be working.ย โSpeaking of food,โ Ryle says. โIโm starving.โย The casserole!
โOh shit!โ I say, laughing.
Ryle rushes to the kitchen and I stand up and follow him in there. I walk in just as he pulls the oven door open and waves away the smoke.ย Ruined.
I get dizzy all of a sudden from standing up too fast after having
three glasses of wine. I grab the counter beside him to steady myself, just as he reaches in to pull the burnt casserole out.
โRyle! You need a . . .โ โShit!โ he yells.
โPot holder.โ
The casserole falls from his hand and lands on the ๏ฌoor, shattering everywhere. I lift up my feet to avoid broken glass and mushroom chicken splatter. I start laughing as soon as I realize he didnโt even think to use a pot holder.
Must be the wine.ย This is some seriously strong wine.
He slams the oven shut and moves to the faucet, shoving his hand under the cold water, muttering curse words. Iโm trying to suppress my laughter, but the wine and the ridiculousness of the last few seconds are making it hard. I look at the ๏ฌoorโat the mess weโre about to have to clean upโand the laughter bursts from me. Iโm still laughing as I lean over to get a look at Ryleโs hand. I hope he didnโt hurt it too bad.
Iโm instantly not laughing anymore. Iโm on the ๏ฌoor, my hand pressed against the corner of my eye.
In a matter of one second, Ryleโs arm came out of nowhere and slammed against me, knocking me backward. There was enough force behind it to knock me off balance. When I lost my footing, I hit my face on one of the cabinet door handles as I came down.
Pain shoots through the corner of my eye, right near my temple. And then I feel the weight.
Heaviness follows and it presses down on every part of me. So much gravity, pushing down on my emotions. Everything shatters.
My tears, my heart, my laughter, myย soul. Shattered like broken glass, raining down around me.
I wrap my arms over my head and try to wish away the last ten seconds.
โGoddammit, Lily,โ I hear him say. โItโs not funny. This hand is my fucking career.โ
I donโt look up at him. His voice doesnโt penetrate through my body this time. It feels like itโs stabbing me now, the sharpness of each of his words coming at me like swords. Then I feel him next to me, hisย goddamn handย on my back.
Rubbing.
โLily,โ he says. โOh, God.ย Lily.โ He tries to pull my arms from my head, but I refuse to budge. I start shaking my head, wanting the last ๏ฌfteen seconds to go away.ย Fifteen seconds. Thatโs all it takes to completely change everything about a person.
Fifteen seconds that weโll never get back.
He pulls me against him and starts kissing the top of my head. โIโm so sorry. I just . . . I burned my hand. I panicked. You were laughing and . . . Iโm so sorry, it all happened so fast. I didnโt mean to push you, Lily, Iโm sorry.โ
I donโt hear Ryleโs voice this time. All I hear is my fatherโs voice.ย โIโm sorry, Jenny. It was an accident. Iโm so sorry.โ
โIโm sorry, Lily. It was an accident. Iโm so sorry.โ
I just want him away from me. I use every ounce of strength I have in both my hands and legs and I force himย the fuckย away from me.
He falls backward, onto his hands. His eyes are full of genuine sorrow, but then theyโre full of something else.
Worry? Panic?
He slowly pulls up his right hand and itโs covered in blood. Blood is trickling out of his palm, down his wrist. I look at the ๏ฌoor
โat the shattered pieces of glass from the casserole dish.ย His hand.ย I just pushed him onto glass.
He turns around and pulls himself up. He sticks his hand under the stream of water and starts rinsing away the blood. I stand up, just as he pulls a sliver of glass out of his palm and tosses it on the counter.
Iโm full of so much anger, but somehow, concern for his hand still ๏ฌnds its way out. I grab a towel and shove it into his ๏ฌst. Thereโs so much blood.
Itโs his right hand.ย His surgery Monday.
I try to help stop the bleeding, but Iโm shaking too bad. โRyle,
your hand.โ
He pulls the hand away and, with his good hand, he lifts my chin. โFuckย the hand, Lily. I donโt care about my hand. Are you okay?โ Heโs looking back and forth between my eyes frantically as he assesses the cut on my face.
My shoulders begin to shake and huge, hurt-๏ฌlled tears spill down my cheeks. โNo.โ Iโm a little in shock, and I know he can hear my heart breaking with just that one word, because I can feel it in every part of me. โOh my God. Youย pushedย me, Ryle. You . . .โ The realization of what has just happened hurts worse than the actual action.
Ryle wraps his arm around my neck and desperately holds me against him. โIโm so sorry, Lily.ย God, Iโm so sorry.โ He buries his face against my hair, squeezing me with every emotion inside of him. โPlease donโt hate me.ย Please.โ
His voice slowly starts to become Ryleโs voice again, and I feel it in my stomach, in my toes. His entire career depends on his hand, so it has to say something that heโs not even worried about it.ย Right?ย Iโm so confused.
Thereโs too much happening. The smoke, the wine, the broken glass, the food splattered everywhere, the blood, the anger, the apologies, itโs too much.
โIโm so sorry,โ he says again. I pull back and his eyes are red and Iโve never seen him look so sad. โI panicked. I didnโt mean to push you away, I just panicked. All I could think about was the surgery Monday and my hand and . . . Iโm so sorry.โ He presses his mouth to mine and breathes me in.
Heโs not like my father. He canโt be. Heโs nothing like that uncaring bastard.
Weโre both upset and kissing and confused and sad. Iโve never
felt anything like this momentโso ugly and painful. But somehow the only thing that eases the hurt just caused by this manย isย this man. My tears are soothed by his sorrow, my emotions soothed with his mouth against mine, his hand gripping me like he never wants to let go.
I feel his arms go around my waist and he picks me up, carefully stepping through the mess weโve made. I canโt tell if Iโm more disappointed in him or myself. Him for losing his temper in the ๏ฌrst place or me for somehow ๏ฌnding comfort in his apology.
He carries me and kisses me all the way to my bedroom. Heโs still kissing me when he lowers me to the bed and whispers, โIโm sorry, Lily.โ He moves his lips to the spot on my eye that hit the cabinet, and he kisses me there. โIโm so sorry.โ
His mouth is on mine again, hot and wet, and I donโt even know whatโs happening to me. Iโm hurting so much on the inside, yet my body craves his apology in the form of his mouth and hands on me. I want to lash out at him and react like I always wish my mother would have reacted when my father hurt her, but deep down I want to believe that it really was an accident. Ryle isnโt like my father.ย Heโs nothing like him.
I need to feel his sorrow. His regret. I get both of these things in
the way he kisses me. I spread my legs for him and his sorrow comes in another form. Slow, apologetic thrusts inside of me. Every time he enters me, he whispers another apology. And by some miracle, every time he pulls out of me, my anger leaves with him.
โข โข โข
Heโs kissing my shoulder. My cheek. My eye. Heโs still on top of me, touching me gently. Iโve never been touched like this . . . with such
tenderness. I try to forget what happened in the kitchen, but itโs everything right now.
He pushed me away from him.ย Ryle pushed me.
For ๏ฌfteen seconds, I saw a side of him thatย wasnโtย him. That
wasnโtย me. I laughed at him when I should have been concerned. He shoved me when he should have never touched me. I pushed him away and caused him to cut his hand.
It was awful. The whole thing, the entire ๏ฌfteen seconds it lasted, was absolutely awful. I never want to think about it again.
He still has the rag balled up in his hand and itโs soaked with blood. I push against his chest.
โIโll be right back,โ I tell him. He kisses me one more time and rolls off of me. I walk to the bathroom and close the door. I look in the mirror and gasp.
Blood. In my hair, on my cheeks, on my body. Itโs all his blood. I grab a rag and try to wash some off, and then I look under the sink for the ๏ฌrst aid kit. I have no idea how bad his hand is. First he burned it, then he sliced it open. Not even an hour after he was just telling me how important this surgery was to him.
No more wine. Weโre never allowed vintage wine again.
I grab the box from under the sink and open the bedroom door. Heโs walking back into the bedroom from the kitchen with a small bag of ice. He holds it up, โFor your eye,โ he says.
I hold up the ๏ฌrst aid kit. โFor your hand.โ
We both smile and then sit back down on the bed. He leans against the headboard while I pull his hand to my lap. The whole time Iโm dressing his wound, heโs holding the bag of ice against my eye.
I squeeze some antiseptic cream onto my ๏ฌnger and dab it against the burns on his ๏ฌngers. They donโt look as bad as I thought they might be, so thatโs a relief. โCan you prevent it from blistering?โ I ask him.
He shakes his head. โNot if itโs second-degree.โ
I want to ask him if he can still perform the surgery if his ๏ฌngers have blisters on them come Monday, but I donโt bring it up. Iโm sure thatโs on the forefront of his mind right now.
โDo you want me to put some on your cut?โ
He nods. The bleeding has stopped. Iโm sure if he needed stitches, heโd get some, but I think itโll be ๏ฌne. I pull the ACE bandage out of the ๏ฌrst aid kit and begin wrapping his hand.
โLily,โ he whispers. I look up at him. His head is resting against the headboard, and it looks like he wants to cry. โI feel terrible,โ he says. โIf I could take it back . . .โ
โI know,โ I say, cutting him off. โI know, Ryle. It was terrible. You pushed me. You made me question everything I thought I knew about you. But I know you feel bad about it. We canโt take it back. I donโt want to bring it up again.โ I secure the bandage around his hand and then look him in the eye. โBut Ryle? If anything like that ever happens again . . . Iโll know that this time wasnโt just an accident. And Iโll leave you without a second thought.โ
He stares at me for a long time, his eyebrows drawn apart in regret. He leans forward and presses his lips against mine. โIt wonโt happen again, Lily. I swear. Iโm not like him. I know thatโs what youโre thinking, but I swear to you . . .โ
I shake my head, wanting him to stop. I canโt take the pain in his voice. โI know youโre nothing like my father,โ I say. โJust . . . please donโt ever make me doubt you again. Please.โ
He brushes hair from my forehead. โYouโre the most important part of my life, Lily. I want to be what brings you happiness. Not what causes you to hurt.โ He kisses me and then stands up and leans over me, pressing the ice to my face. โHold this here for about ten more minutes. Itโll prevent it from swelling.โ
I replace his hand with mine. โWhere are you going?โ
He kisses me on the forehead and says, โTo clean up my mess.โ
He spends the next twenty minutes cleaning the kitchen. I can hear glass being tossed into the trash can, wine being poured out in the sink. I go to the bathroom and take a quick shower to get his blood off of me and then I change the sheets on my bed. When he ๏ฌnally has the kitchen cleaned up, he comes to the bedroom with a glass. He hands it to me. โItโs soda,โ he says. โThe caffeine will help.โ
I take a drink of it and feel it ๏ฌzz down my throat. Itโs actually the perfect thing. I take another drink and set it on my nightstand. โWhatโs it help with? The hangover?โ
Ryle slides into bed and pulls the covers over us. He shakes his head. โNo, I donโt think soda actually helps anything. My mom just used to give me a soda after Iโd had a bad day and it always made me feel a little better.โ
I smile. โWell, it worked.โ
He brushes his hand down my cheek and I can see in his eyes and in the way he touches me that he deserves at least one chance at forgiveness. I feel if I donโt ๏ฌnd a way to forgive him, Iโll somewhat be placing blame on him for the resentment I still hold for my father.ย Heโs not like my father.
Ryle loves me. Heโs never come out and said it before, but I
know he does. And I love him. What happened in the kitchen tonight is something Iโm con๏ฌdent wonโt happen again. Not after seeing how upset he is that he hurt me.
All humans make mistakes. What determines a personโs character arenโt the mistakes we make. Itโs how we take those mistakes and turn them into lessons rather than excuses.
Ryleโs eyes somehow grow even more sincere and he leans over and kisses my hand. He settles his head into the pillow and we just lie there, staring at each other, sharing this unspoken energy that ๏ฌlls all the holes the night has left in us.
After a few minutes, he squeezes my hand. โLily,โ he says, brushing his thumb over mine. โIโm in love with you.โ
I feel his words in every part of me. And when I whisper, โI love you, too,โ itโs the most naked truth Iโve ever spoken to him.
