Page 35 of Tart
I pointed down the hallway. “On the bed,” I said, ready to say more when he disappeared to get it.
“Holy hell!” His words were distant, but I snickered at the tone. When he reappeared, he was holding the pillow and shaking his head. “It looks like an office store exploded in there. What the hell?”
“I was going to explain,” I said, still laughing. Bishop handed me the pillow and sat opposite me in the chair by the doors. “You didn’t give me time.”
“I wasn’t expecting,” he motioned his hands around, “that.”
“Stop being dramatic. There aren’t that many boxes.”
“I counted like ten or twelve,” he said, a brow raised. “I missed something over the last eighteen hours. What’s going on?”
I sighed and let my shoulders drop back after I fixed the pillow. “I am officially out of the bakery except for interviews and paperwork.”
He leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “What do you mean out of the bakery?”
I held up my hand to clarify. “Sorry, not out of the bakery. I’m no longer working at the front counter. I’ll be doing all the management and marketing work from here on out. All of the customer service work will be employees only. Those boxes hold the paperwork and filing that we haven’t had time to deal with for over a year. My job is to spend the next week here at home, sorting it all out. Then I have to devise a new computer filing system for us, set up some accounts to go digital, and hire several new workers.”
His eyes widened, and he shook his head slightly. “That sounds like it’s going to take a lot more than a week.”
I laughed, glad it was relaxed for the first time all day. “Oh, it will. I’m just saying that I’m not allowed back in the bakery for at least a week while my leg heals a little bit, so I’ll work here with my leg up. It’s not in good shape.”
“I would never have guessed that,” he said, winking. “Actually, the need for two crutches was a dead giveaway.”
I nodded, biting my lip while I did it, so I didn’t cry. “I’ve been at the clinic since eight o’clock this morning. Um, things didn’t go well.”
“How not well did they go?”
“I should just show you,” I said, “unless you’re squeamish.”
“I’m a physical education teacher for elementary kids. I’m not even a little bit squeamish.”
I laughed and nodded, letting my chest relax a little bit more. “Good point.” I hiked my dress up to show him the knee that now sported a bandage. The rest of the leg was fire engine red.
He stood up and walked over, dropping to his knees to get a closer look. “God, Amber,” he hissed, his words barely audible, “this looks worse than it did last night.”
“It is,” I said, letting my head fall back. He held the back of his hand to the skin and then grabbed my gaze with his. His hand went to my forehead, and he shook his head, his lips in a thin line.
“You have an infection. That fever is something else. You must be miserable.”
“I’ve had much better days,” I admitted. “The doctor said I have septic arthritis in my knee. I guess the leg is more susceptible to it because of the hardware. He did a needle aspiration, which surprisingly made it feel better. The skin is also infected. I had to stay at the clinic for I.V. antibiotics before they’d let me leave.”
“Do you need to go back for more?”
I pointed at the bag on the table. “No, I picked up oral ones to start today. I’ll have to take them for at least two weeks and possibly up to six weeks.”
“Did he do x-rays?”
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. The heat of the day mixed with the fever made me want to take a cold shower and curl up in a ball. “He did after draining all the fluid out of the knee. There was a new fracture that wasn’t there after the original accident. He thinks Rex fractured the femur again when he kicked me.”
“And you walked around on a broken leg?” he asked in shock.
I made the so-so hand. “Remember, there’s a rod in there already holding that bone together, and it was just a small crack in the bone, so not a fracture the way you’re thinking. I should have said it was relatively new, but healed. It was painful because he cracked the bone, but it was always stable.”
He fell to his butt and grasped his knees. “I’m so sorry. You must be miserable. I guess you do need to spend some time off it. Does he think once the infection is gone that you’ll be able to walk better again?”
I laughed, and the sound took him by surprise until he glanced up and noticed my face. He stood and lifted my legs carefully, sitting on the couch and setting my legs over his lap. He pulled me into his arms and held me in a hug, not speaking or doing anything other than comforting me for a few moments. When he did finally speak, his cheek was resting on the top of my head, and my face was buried in his shirt.
“Maybe you should call your parents and have them come home? I’m sure they’d want to be here for you.”
