Page 146 of The Best Men
“Daddy!”
When Rosie grabs the bar again, she misses the metal and loses her grip. Without thinking, I rush toward the bars right as she topples to the ground. My heart crawls up my throat as she lets out a shriek of pain.
* * *
Four hours later, Rosie is conked out, her right arm in a pink cast stretched out on her twin bed, the orange cat draped around her head.
My heart rate has slowed, but only slightly.
Pretty sure I won’t forget the sound of that fall for a long time.
Turns out it’sonlya forearm fracture, and the doc said she could play on the monkey bars as soon as three to four weeks after the cast comes off.
Tell that to the gray hairs I probably have.
There is nothing?nothing in the whole world?as harrowing as witnessing your kid fall. I head to the kitchen, grab a beer, and text Asher again. I texted him when I left the ER in one piece. But he asked me to text him, too, when we returned home, even though it’s the middle of the night. I send him a quick note letting him know that Rosie’s sound asleep.
His reply is instantaneous.If you’re not asleep, FaceTime me. Want to see your face.
I dial him, stat.
The second his handsome profile fills the screen, my pulse calms. Crazy, how one person can both get you going and settle you down. “Hey,” I say.
With a red pillow behind him, Asher stretches on his side in bed, propping his head in his hand. His hair is shaggy again. No scissors have touched his locks since the wedding. “How is she?”
I give him the details. “. . . and she'll have it on for four weeks. Through Christmas.”
“Was she bummed about that?”
“Not at all,” I say, laughing for the first time in hours. “She was more concerned with when she could have it signed.”
“And the verdict?”
“Monday. So tomorrow, guess who’s taking her marker shopping?”
He chuckles softly, then yawns. “Sounds like fun.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, sure.”
“I mean it, Mark. It does sound like fun. Wish I could go with you two.”
That sounds like a perfect Saturday. I take a swig of the beer. “Me too.”
“She's going to be fine, though. I've broken plenty of bones. I bet you were way more freaked out than she was.”
“I think I aged ten years, Ash,” I say, leaning against the counter.
He yawns once more, and I really need to let him go. But talking to him is my favorite part of every day.
“Listen, Mark,” Asher says, sitting up in bed.
For a second, I tense. Hardly anything good starts withlisten. But I don’t have a single reason to suspect anything bad is coming so I decide not to worry. “What is it?”
“I hate to say this, but I don’t think you should come next weekend for my birthday. It seems silly when you have a kid in a cast. She needs you. And I don’t want you to have the added stress of worrying about letting me down. I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine. Your little girl needs you.”
My brow creases as I stare at my sleepy boyfriend who’s impossibly sexy in his Parisian bed, and incredibly thoughtful too. He’s so fucking good to me.
“I think you’re right,” I say, relieved.
