″Ow! Ow!″ I close my eyes before holding back the pain, not liking how much pressure she’s currently putting on my scrapes—then again, she doesn’t bother to care about my pain or my complaints. ″Have you ever tried this ‘thing’ called slow dabbing?″ I ask.
To my surprise, she ends up dabbing onto my wounds, a little bit too hard; probably on purpose which causes me to clench my jaw. ″God . . . are you trying to kill me?″ I groan.
Her blue eyes look up into mine before her lips curve up into a cheeky smile, ″I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you have a bad tolerance towards pain.″ She replies, throwing away the dirty cotton bud before slowly placing a clean bandage onto the wound. ″Maybe, you’re just a crybaby,″ She adds.
″Excuse me?″ My eyes widen, ″Me? A crybaby? Sweetheart, look at me—I’m anything but a crybaby. You were just being too rough on me,″ I smile without looking away from her face, seeing that she’s currently enjoying my disagreement as she stands up, writing something on the papers in her hand.
″So . . . I can’t write?″ I ask, glancing down at my left arm.
″No, unfortunately. Not until you’ve fully healed which would take up to eight weeks, according to your age—people of younger age tend to heal faster.″ She answers as she glances towards my direction for a couple of seconds before looking back at the papers.
″Do you know that there’s actually an international left-handers day? I mean, I assume that you would know because it’s general knowledge and all but I may have assumed too high.″ I continue to speak as she chuckles, finding it as a simple joke; probably slightly offended but I’m just trying to lighten up the situation.
″On August thirteen,″ She turns towards me.
″How would you know that? Was it a wild guess?″ I raise an eyebrow.
″Isn’t it obvious? I’m left-handed,″ She points down at her hand, seeing that she has been writing with her left hand . . . all along while I fooled myself. It doesn’t take me long to immediately burst into laughters, covering my embarrassment.
Within seconds, the door is being pushed slowly, revealing a familiar pair of brown eyes; looking directly at me as we both stare at one another before realising that my lips are slowly curving into a smile, ″Look at that . . . if it isn’t the woman who broke my arm,″ I say.
Kenna steps inside, glancing at the doctor who has turned to look at her.
″Mrs. Ashton,″ The doctor greets her with a smile, plastered on her face.
″Kenna’s fine. How is he?″ She asks, pointing towards me while I stay focus onto my best friend who seems to be a little bit worried about me ever since the accident. It cheers me up to see the look on her face when she found out about my arm—she was panicking, confused and even more . . . she cared.
″Right . . . Kenna. So, your husband has a broken forearm. Nothing too serious but it’ll take awhile to properly heal—it shouldn’t be a problem if he’s well taken care of.″ Nora—the doctor, points down at my casted forearm. ″This orthopedic cast will stabilise and the anatomical structures in place until healing is confirmed which would take at least eight weeks or more, depending on how fast he heals.″ She adds, slowly.
″So, both of his bones are broken? The radius and the ulna?″ Kenna asks while I stare at her intently, liking how she has both of her arms crossed—seeing how focused she is, showing how she knows almost everything about the basics which makes me chuckle lightly.
Nora seems a little bit surprised before nodding, ″Yes. It is very common when the arm receives a certain amount of pressure from harsh impacts. Luckily, it’s not severe and only a moderate fractured bone . . . you or your husband shouldn’t worry. It’s all taken care of,″ She smiles, assuring Kenna and I.
My wife nods, ″What about his bruises and the swelling?″
″All will heal in time. If you don’t mind, you can simply follow me to my office and I will show you his X-ray results to reassure you that everything is under control.″ Nora replies, pointing towards the door, waiting for her respond.
″I’d like a moment with my husband for awhile,″ She says and Nora nods before leaving the room—leaving Kenna and I, to ourselves.
My eyes wander up to Kenna, seeing that she’s currently eyeing my broken forearm before looking into my eyes as she takes a seat beside me. ″I’m sorry, Aidan . . . I can’t help but think that this wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me.″ She breathes out, sincerely apologising.
I chuckle, ″You’re feeling bad just because I broke my arm? You worry too much, Kenna Anne—it’s nothing bad . . . besides, it’s making me look a little bit bad ass, don’t you think?″ I raise an eyebrow which causes both of us to lightly chuckle, enjoying how a situation like this can easily be a happy one if we just simply, let it be one.
″I can’t really deny that,″ She replies.
As I clear my throat, I slowly place my right hand onto hers; causing her to look up into my eyes, slightly surprised. ″I know that you didn’t expect this to happen and I didn’t either. I should probably blame myself for losing my balance but there’s not much that can change from that . . . not even by blaming you for wanting to teach me how to ride a bicycle. Something that my own father can’t even do,″
I stop for awhile, ″I missed out on a lot of things as a child, Kenna. I want to thank you,″
Both of us are looking deeply into each other’s eyes as our lips curve up into a smile, ″I couldn’t think of a better way to make sure that you don’t miss out. So, you’re welcome.″ She squeezes onto my hand, entwining our fingers together before smiling wider.
″Good . . . so when can I discharge?″ I ask.
″You were supposed to be discharged tomorrow morning but I told him that was not possible. I asked for an early discharge today and you’re going to be discharged in a couple of hours, they just need to make sure that you’re okay. Your treatments are being transferred back to my hospital in New York—I’ll make sure that you get the best doctor there to make sure you’ll get a speedy recovery,″ She replies.
″Sounds like you got it all mapped out,″ I chuckle, leaning my head back.
″Just the best for you,″ She mutters, causing my heart to beat at an unstable pace; not expecting her answer to be so blunt or somehow, direct. Yet, she meant otherwise.
″I called Diana and Marc, they were worried sick. They asked what happened and I told them; at first they didn’t really believe it . . . they started to laugh a little, they expected a bit more of a serious case than falling from a bike.″ She continues to speak while I listen, looking at nowhere but her light blue eyes, ″They’re waiting for you at home,″ She adds.
″Alain is probably going to tease me until I die,″ I reply.
″I can’t doubt that,″ She grins.
Once Kenna and I have made it home after a long trip from the hospital, I finally let out a sigh of relief—she was driving insanely slow because she didn’t want me to be in any sort of pain from the bumps and all. I appreciate the effort but she was slowly making me go crazy, I wanted to rip my hair out just because she was being extremely slow.
″We’re home,″ I say as Kenna pushes the door open for me, surprised to be greeted by all of my family members—all of their faces staring back at me in surprise except for Alain, a sly smirk is currently plastered onto his face.
″I was very worried!″ Mother exclaims before making her way towards me, cupping onto my face to make sure that everything else is fine which causes me to furrow my brows; not liking the fact that I probably look like a fish, ″You simply fell of a bike?″ She raises an eyebrow.
″Unfortunately. I don’t have a better story to tell,″ I answer as Kenna chuckles beside me, making me glance at her with a smile on my face. ″You’re not mad at your daughter-in-law?″
″Why would I be? It’s about time you learn how to ride a bicycle.″ She responds as Harley laughs, not expecting such an answer coming from mother but I’ve known her long enough to be expecting those kind of answers. ″I’m going to cancel the party tonight,″ She adds.
″Huh? Why would you cancel the party? It’s your anniversary celebration,″ I frown.
She turns towards me, ″How can I celebrate when my son just came back from the hospital with a broken arm? You need to be resting and having the party tonight will only disturb that,″ She answers before picking up her phone; wanting to text the other guests but I immediately grab it using my other hand, not wanting her to simply cancel it because of me.
″You’re not cancelling it, mother.″ I firmly, say. ″For god’s sake, it’s your anniversary tomorrow and you’re celebrating it tonight—you don’t get to do that everyday. Every year is different and every time you celebrate it . . . it’s a new memory. You can’t cancel it because I’m not letting you. We’re all having the celebration and that’s final,″ I add.
Alain stands with his arms crossed while mother turns to look at me in surprise. As for father and Harley, they’re both just staring at me.
″If that’s all . . . I’ll see you tonight,″ I mutter before walking up the stairs, leaving everyone speechless at my sudden ′order′ as it felt a little bit more at work than at home. It doesn’t only surprise my family members but it shocks me even more to find out that I was firmly giving a strict order—I was bothered by it.
I push my bedroom door open before slowly sitting at the edge of the bed, looking up to find Kenna closing the door behind her; not moving my gaze away.
″You look tired,″ She says as she stands at the exact spot.
″Not really,″ I reply.
Kenna’s eyes are staring directly at me and it bothers me that I can’t read what’s on her mind because sometimes, I wonder what she’s currently thinking about. Is it about life or is it about me? Has it ever been about me?
There are times when I can’t help but only think about her . . . it worries me, not knowing what exactly is that I feel when I’m with her or without her. It confuses me even more when she appears on my mind almost every single day—spontaneously just trying to interrupt my daily activities by the thoughts of her.
I’ve never exactly been in love. I wouldn’t really say that I don’t want to fall in love because I do want to fall in love but with someone that matters most to me, someone that would make me happy, someone that would make me feel as if there’s nothing else more important than being close to her and someone that I can love for the rest of my life.
Maybe, just maybe, I’m asking for a bit too much.
Worse . . . my expectations are maybe too high. It’s hard for me to fall in love and maybe it’s even harder for me to fall out of love—that’s why I expect more from other people. I expect them to return back and even more, by far . . . it hasn’t been working out the way I want. I’ve always looked at the things around me, trying to see them in a different perspective but I’m left more and more confused.
There, the woman standing in front of me, has been the only one who cared about me. More than my money or my title . . . more than how I care about myself. She was there through thick and thin, she was everything anyone could ever ask for and more importantly, she was the one who made me laugh, who made me cry and who made me scream in anger.
She was entirely someone I had hoped to appear in my life.
″It bothers me,″ I mutter under my breath but loud enough for her to hear which causes her to take a few steps closer towards me before frowning.
″What does?″ She asks, eyes focusing into mine.
″Certain things . . . there are certain things that bothers me. I don’t exactly know what but it’s bothering me,″ My voice low and almost inaudible as she frowns, not completely understanding the whole thing but she places her hand on mine, entwining our fingers together before giving me a squeeze of hope.
″You’re just tired. You’re also a little bit high from the painkillers,″ She says which causes both of us to chuckle. ″I don’t understand what you’re talking about but that’s okay. You just need to rest for a little while. Would you do that?″
″Yeah . . . I’m starting to feel a little bit dizzy. The painkiller is also starting to wear off,″ I reply before wincing at the pain on my left arm before laying on the bed—slowly, not wanting to hurt my already broken arm.
I blink a few times before falling into a deep sleep, not realising how fast it was to immediately let my surroundings shut away while I rest.
For what it seems to be hours, I start to open my eyes after hearing noises coming from downstairs before looking around, seeing Kenna standing near the closet in her bra and panties on without anything other than that which causes me to frown; making sure that I’m not having a dream about her.
I end up pinching myself, in order to make sure that this is real. In fact, this is as real as it can get as she tries to look for a suitable dress for tonight, not realising that I have woke up from my nap.
My eyes remained focus onto her back and down her legs, seeing how I’ve never seen or looked at her this way before. Yes, I’ve seen her in bikinis before but no, I haven’t seen her in her undergarments. The way she stands stall, defining her posture and by the way her hair falls down to her mid-waist . . . it amazes me.
Just as she puts on her long summer dress, she accidentally bumps onto the dresser which causes her phone to fall onto the ground; making me close my eyes, immediately—not wanting to get caught for staring.
″Shit,″ She mutters under her breath.
I open my eyes to find her looking down at her phone before placing it on the bed, looking at me to find that I’m currently awake which causes her to smile. ″You’re up? Feeling any better?″ She asks, sitting beside me.
Her dark brown hair falls in loose waves behind her while I try to erase the images of seeing her standing there, sexily; almost making me lose my grip of reality.
″Yeah . . . what time is it?″ I ask, frowning as I pretend to be exhausted.
″Seven. The guests have arrived half an hour ago but I decided to stay until you wake up. Now, that you’re already awake . . . it’s time for you to change,″ She says before heading back towards the closet, looking for a proper shirt for me to wear before bringing myself downstairs and meet the people who I’ve come to forget.
I stand up, making my way towards her as she turns towards me. ″How about this? Just a simple shirt with a colour that matches my dress,″ She points at it and I nod, smiling.
Within seconds, she is already starting to walk away towards the bathroom but then I realise that I can’t simply do this on my own. ″Kenna . . . I think I need a little help with this.″ My eyebrows frowning before looking down at my casted forearm, ″Can’t really take it off myself,″
She walks back towards me.
Both of her eyes are looking up into mine before slowly placing her hands near my waist, lifting up the shirt to reveal my abdomen area. As her eyes remain focused onto my upper body, I look away from her—not wanting to make the situation more awkward than now. Just as she lifts up the shirt, taking it off my right hand first before slowly moving to my left hand, I can feel her small fingers tracing onto my skin, accidentally.
Once she has successfully taken the shirt off, I am left shirtless in front of her which causes me to stare down at her; seeing that she’s trying her best to avoid any further eye contacts but I can’t help myself, I can’t help it when I want to look at her more than once.
To my surprise, our eyes meet as she tries to pick up the shirt from the ground, which had fallen when she was clumsily trying to hide her blushed cheeks.
She slowly starts to stand up, our bodies inches away from one another as we continue to stare without uttering a single word or make a single movement. ″I . . . I think this is a bad idea,″ She breathes out as I lean in, slowly and slowly brushing my nose against hers.
″What is?″ I ask, clenching my jaw.
I stay still without making any further movements, not wanting to make it seem like I’m forcing her into something that she doesn’t want but by the way she glances down at my lips and lean her body forward towards mine—I can tell that this is not a one-sided thing.
″This . . . you and me,″ She bites her lower lip. ″Being this close or even doing what we’re thinking of doing,″
″What exactly are we thinking of doing?″ I raise an eyebrow as I smirk, wanting to tease her as I brush my nose against her cheek, making her close her eyes at the contact.
My head leaning deeper and deeper before slowly going down to her jawline, planting kisses down her neck; making her run her hand down my arm before stopping at my elbow. Both of her eyes are closed from the sparks overflowing our bodies as I kiss onto her neck, one more time . . . this time longer than before.
″Mmm, I don’t know.″ She finally answers.
My body eases at the smell of her fragrance, the same exact perfume that she have been using for years now; Bombshell by Victoria’s Secret and I can’t help but say it has been my favourite when she wears it—not because it has a certain seductive smell but because it mixes well with her own scent.
I lift my head up, looking into her eyes as we are only inches apart before seeing them open again, looking into mine with slight hesitation in them but I know that deep down, we’re both slightly needing and mostly confused.
Within seconds, I manage to find the softness of her lips with mine. The way her full and luscious lips move against mine in a passionate yet slow kiss; it starts to make me realise how much I miss the taste of it—more likely, make me realise how I never had the chance to really experience it fully, more busy trying to impress the people around me.
Just as it starts to make my heart flutter, I immediately break the kiss to stare back at her, seeing her lips becoming pinker and her cheeks have warmed up from the short kiss.
She breathes out as I clench my jaw, ″Can we just do it one last time and forget this thing ever happened? Can we not mention it as soon as we walk out of this room?″ She asks, looking into my eyes with a pleading look; somehow not wanting the moment to end.
″Deal?″ I look down in between to find her raising her little finger, waiting for me to complete the ′pinky promise′ which causes me to smile, entwining her little finger with mine.
″Deal,″ I reply before kissing her lips, her hands cupping onto my face as I place my right arm around her waist—making sure that this moment lasts as long as it can before we step out of this room, pretending to forget it ever happened.