Page 61 of Fall Into You
“What?” he asks in his gravelly voice.
“You know what,” I admonish him. “I can practicallyhearyour smile.” We both chuckle. I push down his pants and underwear, and he stands naked in front of me. It’s taking everything in my power to remind myself that Matt is hurt, because, right now, Ireallywant to tackle him. Especially when I look down and can see just how happy he is to have me here in his bathroom.
“Shower with me?” he asks, his eyes pleading, a different kind of hunger in them now. I get where he’s coming from, because I feel it too. It’s not about sex. It’s about needing to feel me close after the awful day we’ve had. It started with us getting into an argument and not talking all day and then ended in a physical altercation with my brother. I need his arms around me just as much as he needs mine.
“You gonna behave?” I ask, because this will only work if he controls himself.
He smiles sheepishly and nods, tugging on my sweater, silently instructing me to take it off. I undress completely, slowly, in front of him. I know it’s cruel of me, but I can’t help teasing him a little. I place our clothes on top of the white marble countertop and turn back to face him.
“I’ll change your bandage before bed anyway, but try not to get it too wet,” he says, grimacing from the pain.
I shake my head at his inability to follow orders and nod. “Fine, come on. Let’s go.”
He smirks and grabs my good hand, opening the glass door to his massive shower. I gasp at the sight of his lower back, and he turns to face me with a questioning look.
“Your back! The bruises! Oh my God,” I say. He walks over to the mirror and twists in front of it to get a better look, the movement causing him pain. I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his waist, leaning my head on his chest, breathing him in, doing my best to keep the tears from falling. “I’m so sorry,” I say again, kissing his chest. He wraps one arm around my waist while his other hand goes into my hair, holding me to him. After a while, when the hot water from the shower completely fogs up the mirror, he leads me into it, and we proceed to spend a good half hour in there. We don’t talk. We don’t kiss. We only hold each other under the stream of water in complete silence. I only break the comfortable silence when I remind him just how late it is and that we should probably go to bed so that he can get his sleep.
Once we’re out of the shower, have dried ourselves off, and he’s redressed the gash on my palm, I have him lie facedown on his bed in his boxers, shirtless. I softly rub some arnica cream on the bruises that are slowly forming on his lower back and place a large icepack on it after I’ve let the cream dry for a bit.
I lie down on my side next to him, wearing only one of his t-shirts, and I stare into his dark-green eyes. He looks exhausted. I settle my head on my bent arm, and he reaches out for my hand. I don’t think I’ve ever loved him more.
We’ve just spent the entire night taking care of each other—me helping him with his back and jaw, and him redressing my wound. We’ve settled easily into our roles as partners and lovers and best friends, and even though today was a mess—a complete and total shitshow—I wouldn’t change it for the world.
“I love you,” he says seriously, his eyes smoldering. “I don’t regret anything about us—not if everything we’ve been through has led us to this exact moment in time.” My heart soars at his reassurance, at the knowledge that he feels exactly the same way.
I know saying that must have hurt him in more ways than one—physically, obviously, but emotionally as well. Having to admit out loud that he doesn’t care how awful today was because this was all worth it must not have been easy. He might have potentially lost his best friend over me, but he’s saying he doesn’t regret it.
Once again, I remind myself how lucky I am to have found someone as incredible as Matt, and I resolve to try and reconcile him and his best friend. I owe him at least that.
I kiss his hand, and we close our eyes, facing each other, fingers intertwined, as Matt’s sweet cedar signature scent and the sounds of his deep breathing lull me to sleep.
MATTand I spent the entire weekend locked up in his apartment while I took care of him. He woke up Friday morning with back spasms, unable to move. So, guided by his medical knowledge, I did my best to help him through it. At one point, the pain was so bad that he had to call his boss and ask for a prescription for muscle relaxers. I picked them up for him, and we spent the entire next couple of days switching up ice and heat therapy on his lower back, eating take-out from containers, and binging really bad reality TV on the couch while he dozed next to me.
It was hell for Matt but heavenly for me. I got to spend the entire weekend with him, and I loved every second of it. I loved taking care of him and showing him how much I love him. I loved going to bed next to him in his king-sized bed and showering together in his massive bathroom.
I asked him why he had always insisted on spending the night at my apartment when his bed is so much more comfortable than my full-sized one and his shower is more spacious than mine. He simply shrugged and said it never felt like home to him, that my apartment smelled like me, and it made him happier than being alone in his own space. I rolled my eyes and told him he was ridiculous, but my heart was beating wildly in my chest. That definitely earned him a big smooch.
By Monday, Matt was feeling well enough to go back to work as planned, which was good since I was about to begin three weeks of complete and total hell at school and wouldn’t have been able to help him as much. Finals were fast-approaching, and I had to study for tests, write papers, and finish my touch-base with my thesis advisor. I was about to be buried in work, so I wanted to resolve this problem with my brother before essentially being forced into disappearing under a mountain of work.
The truth was, I missed my brother a lot. It had only been a few days since the last time I spoke to him, but I was used to regular communication with him, especially since our father’s death. It was weird to not have heard from him all weekend—and I didn’t like it.
By Monday afternoon, I decide to show up to his apartment to see if we can clear the air, if we can make up. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I can convince him that Matt isn’t a bad guy, and they can go back to being friends—or at least be civil. But when I knock on the door, it isn’t Vinny who answers the door—it’s Danielle, and she looks like shit.
“Hey,” I say, a little taken aback. “Oh my God, what’s wrong?” Dani looks exhausted, bags under her eyes, hair a mess. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this disheveled—not even after giving birth to the twins. As soon as the babies were out of her, she made sure to brush her hair and do her makeup before letting anyone besides Vinny see her.
Danielle sighs and waves me into the apartment. “It’s been a bit hard around here,” she explains as I follow her into the living room. We both take a seat on the cream couch, and she sighs deeply. “I don’t think any of us actually considered the fact that this wasn’t all about the stupid bro code or the fact that Vinny seemed to think he was the head of the family and was being protective.”
I raise an eyebrow at Danielle. “I don’t think I understand what you mean?”
“I didn’t realize just how lonely he was in terms of needing a friend,” she tells me. I think back to what Vinny told me, before he stormed out for the second time, about me stealing his only friend, having not really understood why he was so hung up on that idea. “I guess when your dad died, he was caught up in the twins—he had to be, you know? Your dad died when I was about a month away from giving birth, and then we had to focus ontwonewborns, and I think that, now that they’re older, the grief has caught up with him, and it has made him really lonely.” She exhales. “I don’t think he ever really had time to process it. He was just trying to keep us all together. You, your mom, me, and the babies.”
I feel like an idiot now. Of course.
“He never took care of himself,” I say, and Danielle nods.
Vinny has always been an incredibly charismatic person, one of those people who everyone naturally gravitates toward. He’s never been someone to struggle with making friends or fitting in, like me. But his true, one and only best friend was always my dad. They would talk about everything and nothing, and he respected his advice above everything else. I guess I never truly realized how superficial his other relationships were or how deep a friendship he had developed with Matt. I never completely understood why Matt was so wracked with guilt over our relationship and how it would affect my brother, but I finally get it.
“Anyway,” she says. “He’s not exactly happy with me right now—or your mom, for that matter. He feels like everyone kind of betrayed him,” she says sadly. “I hate that,” she whispers.
