Page 70 of Take Me to the Wedding

It all came back to me. The bag of medicines and the other, extra things Caleb had DoorDashed to my door. The way he’d drawn my bath and waited for me and rubbed medicine into my back. I didn’t remember anything after that, but he must’ve covered me up too.

I dragged myself to the door and opened it to a worried-looking man in gym shorts, a gray T-shirt, and a bright green cast. His hair was mussed like he’d just gotten up from a nap too.

He looked relieved. And he was holding a pizza box. “You scared me.”

“I was dead asleep.”

“Well, it’s nine o’clock. Time to eat.”

He handed me the box and hobbled straight past me into my apartment with the confidence of someone used to moving around in the world with ease.

“Come on in,” I said as if that made any difference, running a hand through my hair and realizing that it was sticking up all over the place. I didn’t ever worry about how I looked to men, but right now I found myself in a mild panic. The swollen eye, the ugly red rash, the hair every which way—I was scarier than a creature on Halloween. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” He said it like I hadn’t been sarcastic, as he plowed through the medicines, coasters, books, and other things on my coffee table, clearing room for the pizza.

The smell got to me. Cheese and warm baked dough, and I swear I could smell the pungent pepperoni before he even opened the box. I ran and got plates, napkins, glasses, and a two-liter bottle half full of fizzless Diet Coke and set everything in front of us.

“Half pepperoni, half veggie,” Caleb cracked open the lid. “Okay?”

“More than okay. Thanks for this,” I said awkwardly.

He flopped two pieces onto plates and handed one to me. “You’re welcome.” He took a bite of pizza. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to need some favors these next few weeks, so you might want to stop feeling bad pretty quickly.”

I nodded, but I was worried about—well, everything. How was I going to get him out of here? Could I ask him to put more ointment on my back without it sounding like a come-on? Now that he’d seen me like this, would he still—want me? I mean, not now, but after I could open both eyes again?

Did I want him to? The honest, naked answer was yes.

And then I did something unusual for me. I let it all go. He was here, not with Lilly. He’d brought pizza, which I love. And he had this look in his eyes whenever he looked at me that made me want to smile. I decided right then and there to do my best to try to get over myself. “When you’re ready to go back to work, I can drive you,” I offered.

“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that. But I’m not going in for two days, doctor’s orders. Then I’m relegated to floor duty only. No surgery.” He sounded disappointed.

“No surgery?”

“No weight-bearing for six weeks.” He was staring intently at his pizza. Tapping his good foot. Looking a little upset. “Six weeks of purgatory.”

“Six weeks of sleeping in,” I said in my most cheery voice.

He shrugged. “I come from a family of farmers. I love getting up early.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but he stopped me. “And don’t tell me I can exercise more or read more books or watch my favorite shows. It’s going to be torture, period.”

“Okay, fine. If you don’t try to cheer me up, I won’t try to cheer you up.”

“Deal. Have you called your chief resident?”

I set down the pizza and wiped my mouth with a napkin, careful not to touch any part of my face. I was learning that even accidentally touching my skin set off a torrent of insane itching.

“Why would I do that?” I asked.

“Because she needs to know that you’re not coming in for a few days either.”

“Ihaveto go to work tomorrow.”

“You work with kids.”

“If I don’t show, people will have to cover for me, and everyone’s already overloaded with cases. I can wear a mask when I’m doing pre-ops. No one will notice.”

“Sam, forget that you’ll scare patients, which you will. You can only see out of one eye.” He ran a hand lightly along my forehead. It felt cool and wonderful. “You might even have a little fever.”

---