Page 100 of The Hookup
She didn’t have any other choice, though, did she?
It wasn’t as if she was going to turn a blind eye towards him when he was recovering from cancer surgery.
“It will only be this week we’ll have to keep an eye on him,” Marie said. “I know you’re really busy at work, so I’ll come by during the day time. I can work from here, so it doesn’t matter. I presume you’ll be here after work?” She looked up at Kay, expectantly.
“I’ll come by in the evenings,” Kay replied, slowly. Of course she was okay to check in on him. Marie expected that she would stay the night, but no. That wasn’t going to happen. Doing this was hard enough, but this wasn’t the time to tell Luke that it was over, not when he was recuperating after surgery to remove cancer cells.
It would be heartless of her, to walk away now.
“I have to go,” said Marie, closing down her laptop and gathering her things together.
“You’re leaving already?” she asked, alarmed. She liked the idea of Marie hanging around, liked the security of having a third-party to absorb the stoniness that would no doubt be present once Luke came out.
But Marie had walked away towards the shower. She knocked on the door of the bathroom. “How long are you going to be, Luke?” she asked. Kay couldn’t make out his answer. But in the next second, she heard a door open and then he stepped into the kitchen.
“Hi,” he said, still sounding hoarse. “When did you get here?”
“Not too long ago.” Her heart missed a beat when he looked into her eyes and they locked gazes. The hard barrier she had been determined to erect between them didn’t even stand a chance.
Today things were different.
Now he wasn’t lying in a hospital bed without a voice, nor did he look as weak. Now he resembled the old Luke, with his lips quirking up at the corners. He stood before her, barefoot, and disheveled with his damp hair, looking nothing like the cool, controlling businessman in his suit.
Tender, ruthless and bittersweet memories rose to the surface, and she melted. For right now, he was hers to have, and she was here to care for him.
“I have to go now, but Kay’s here,” Maria told him. She sounded optimistically happy, and Kay wondered when she should burst her bubble and let her know that things weren’t so great between them. “She brought you some soup, so you can have that for now. I’ll be over tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll be glad to have her company instead of mine.”
“Thanks for coming over,” he said, his voice so rough that it barely sounded like him.
“It was good of her, wasn’t it?” Marie agreed. “Now stop talking and try to get your voice back. See you tomorrow,” she said to Kay, and hugged her goodbye. Kay wondered when and how their relationship had suddenly elevated to bestie level.
“Are you hungry?” she asked when it was just her and him. It would help if she was busy doing something, so that she didn’t have to stand around awkwardly. This was a new role for her, and for him—something neither of them had envisaged; her being the care-giver and him being vulnerable for the first time since she had known him. A position he probably found as odd as she did.
“I can do it,” he croaked.
“You can barely talk,” she said.
“You don’t have to do this.”
She picked out two of the cartons, ignoring him. “Which one?” she asked. She’d gotten two different flavors. He nodded to the one on the right. Asparagus soup.
“I’m sorry if Marie’s put you—” he coughed as he tried to get his words out. “If Marie’s put you—”
She put a finger to her lips. “Shuush,” she said. “Can’t you even be quiet when you’re told to?”
He scooted onto the breakfast bar stool and watched her instead. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her back as she looked through the cupboards, trying to find a saucepan.
“That one,” he said, pointing. “And the wooden spoon is in that drawer under the stove.”
She nodded, and set to heating his soup up. Glancing around briefly, as she pulled out the spoon from the said drawer, she saw that he’d perched himself on the bar stool, and sat facing her, his hands clasped in front of him on the kitchen island. It turned awkwardly silent.
“About…about the other day,” he said, gruffly.
She didn’t turn around. “What other day?” Though she knew perfectly well what he was alluding to.
“When you said all those things.”
“I shouldn’t have said all that.” She still had her back to him. “Not yet, anyway. I should have let you recover first.” The soup was beginning to bubble, so she turned the heat off. She searched through his cupboards again, and found the bowls. Not saying anything, she poured his soup into a bowl, got him a spoon and put the bowl in front of him.
