Like Real People Do - part fourteen

roughly edited

Married.

You’re married.

That’s all you can think as you stare at yourself in the mirror, scrub cap tied tight across your forehead.

Married.

You thought the ring would be so heavy, like a ball and chain, an anchor to the sea floor trying to drag you down, but after only a few days of wearing it, its weight feels natural, like it’s been there all along. It’s even oddly comforting.

“Hey, you good?” Key pops her head into the bathroom, peeking around the corner with a concerned frown.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry.” She’s seen the ring and said nothing, choosing to let you straddle the line of telling everyone, or keeping it to yourself. The thing is there are too many layers, too many lies to make up to try to explain it all. And that’s if you only confirmed you were married. It’d be a whole new puzzle trying to craft a story to explain being married to Simon.

Simon.

You’ve started calling him that in your head now, subconscious immediately jumping to his first name instead of using the formal title.

You don’t know how to feel about that. About any of it. About the way he kissed you, tender, soft, and strong at the same time, an unbreakable force holding you down. You didn’t fight him, you didn’t pull away, you just got lost. You melted into it, into him, you let yourself be taken away.

You’ll wear my ring.

It’s a shock to your system to realize you can handle anything, everything-

Except him.

You’re not circulating today. You’re babysitting.

Standing at the back with a group of four nursing students, you’re quietly pointing things out to them as the case begins, narrating, teaching to the best of your ability. You begged Key to switch with you, but she knows the rules as well as you do. No swaps.

“What’s he like?” One of the girls whispers, and you silently pray she’s not being too loud.

“Very good. The best.” Blue eyes flick and pierce yours, corners crinkling above his mask. Your heart pounds, and you look to the floor, mouth twisting with a small smile of your own, one you’re unable to stop.

That smile, the secret, the ring, it’s all yours.

And the way that makes you feel… is wrong. It turns your stomach over and disintegrates it into butterflies. You’re fighting a losing battle against yourself, two sides of a wall trying to climb over to one another. Your entire world has been flipped upside down, your walls cracked and crumbled, your control pulled away from you and into his hands.

You failed.

You were supposed to be strong for Riley. You were supposed to uphold your promises and take care of her, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t hang on tight enough, you could keep everything under control. You needed someone to swoop in and help you, like you’re a damsel in distress.

You let yourself break. You let him break you.

When you look up, Simon is still watching, and his expression changes, brows knitting together under his cap. Briefly, there’s concern, confusion, and then it hardens to stone.

You force your focus back to one of the students. It’s better that way.

“Daisy.” Jesus Christ. Your ghost, your husband, is walking towards where you stand in front of the elevator doors, and you press the down button twice more for good measure while gritting your teeth.

“I can’t talk right now.” He sighs, and steps into the car, hot as the sun, heat radiating in waves all around you. Don’t look at him. Don’t. It’s worse when you look, when you see his eyes, how honest they are, how intense. He’ll catch you on your back foot and do that thing where he makes you feel like he’d catch you if you fell.

“Alright then.” Rain splatters on the glass as the elevator takes you down to the parking garage. It started just after you gave report, light, barely a sprinkle, but now it’s only getting worse, and the overcast sky has turned grey. Stormy with a low rumble of thunder.

Your phone vibrates. It’s Callie with an update.

Riley is upset, and you need to get home.

“Everything okay?” You nod because you don’t trust your voice to betray you. The elevator dings and you tense like a rabbit, ready to dash, but Simon sets his snare, fingers around your elbow. “Stop.” You close your eyes on instinct, you try to shut down when he cups your cheek. “Look at me baby.” Baby. Your stomach hurts, and you shake your head like a petulant child. “You’re not gettin’ off this elevator until you tell me what’s going on.” The switch is effortless. Thaw to freeze without a hitch, the pendulum swings and it knows right where to hit you every time, and you lean into it, mentally, emotionally, blinking your eyes open.

“I have to get home. Thunderstorms scare Riley.” And they don’t exactly make you feel good either, but that’s different than fear. It’s something else, something blackened and buried beneath your skin that they try to bring out. Something you always push away because it can’t be your focus, it can’t take over. Riley is your priority. “She’s home with Callie right now, I should be there.”

“Because of the accident.” His hand presses to the small of your back, urging you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“I think subconsciously she remembers bits and pieces even though the shrink says it’s unlikely. Like it’s still there in her mind somewhere. She can’t sleep through them, has to be in bed with me, or if they happen during the day we uh…” you trail off with hot cheeks.

“You…”

“We’ll hide under the blankets.” Embarrassing, but his face is soft with understanding.

“So she needs you.” You touch your ring. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but you refuse to examine the action’s reasoning, though you’re sure it relates to how the ring feels less like a burden and more like a security blanket.

“She needs me.” Rain is crashing down on the garage like a symphony, and it’s giving you a headache, hurting your heart. Knowing she’s at home without you, scared, is making your chest tight. The thunder booms, and you wince.

“I’ll drive you.” Three words, but they confuse. Less so when you realize he’s herded you all the way to his car and not your truck.

“What? No. I’m fine.” Absolutely not. Take you home? The passenger side door opens.

“You’re stressed, and the visibility is shit. I’ll take you.”

“Simon-” He covers your hand with his, and tucks two fingers under your chin, directing your focus in its entirety, to him.

“Daisy. I’m not asking, ‘m taking you home and that’s it.”

Simon’s at your back when you open the front door, and you immediately go to one knee in front of Riley’s stampede, catching her as she flings herself into your arms. “Daisy!”

“Hey ladybug. You okay?” She presses her face into your neck and sniffles. “Want to go lay down?”

“Yeah.” Her little voice vibrates through your skin to your soul, and you squeeze her tighter.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

“I did everything I could.” Callie whispers as you rub Riley’s back, and you shake your head.

“You’re fine Cal, I’m glad you’re here.” The two of you have been working on some distractions to try to keep Riley calm during storms if you’re not home, especially for the summer since they roll through pretty often, but the tactic hasn’t had much success yet.

The floor creaks behind you, a reminder of who’s in your house now, and Callie’s eyes go comically wide. “Uh, hi.”

“Callie, this is Simon.” You still have Riley in your arms, trying to juggle both situations without much success. “Simon, this is Callie.” He gives her a nod.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too?” She throws you a bewildered look, and you can’t blame her. You’ve never brought anyone here except for Ava and Olivia. “Are you um, okay if I go? I have some school stuff…” she casts Simon another wary look.

“Yes, all good. Thanks again.” She doesn’t look very reassured but leans in to give Riley a half hug.

“Bye Callie.” Riley whispers, still holding tight as more thunder rumbles.

“Bye kiddo.”

The sight of Simon on your couch an hour after you thanked him for the ride and took Riley upstairs shocks you.

“You’re here.” His thighs are spread, two cushions dipping towards one another under their weight.

“I’m here.” This is not normal and you should be unsettled. There’s nothing normal about any of this. Him in your house, him as your husband, his ring of your finger.

But here you are. Standing in front of him with your hands on his hips as he smiles, casually twisting his own ring around his finger. It’s not normal, but something about it feels good.

“Come sit down Daisy.” You raise your eyebrows.

“You’re inviting me to sit down, on my couch?” He cocks his head. It’s a challenge, will you, won’t you, and just when you expect the hard edge, the clinical blade, he surprises you.

“You’re tired.” Fuck this. You try to build a wall, brick by brick, but it crumbles.

“Yeah, I’ve had a long day, it’s not a big-”

“No.” He rises to full height. A marbled roman god, complete with the nose, dwarfing the room, the house. Your life. “You’re runnin’ on fumes.”

“I’m fine.” He sighs and moves in, not circling, but closing. You don’t fight the hands on your shoulders.

“And you don’t need help, I know.” The backs of his knuckles rub your cheek, and you can’t force yourself to pull away. “My sweet girl, so stubborn.” Your heart races at the same time your stomach twists. Will you, won’t you. Fall, catch. His eyes search yours, studying, scrutinizing, but they’re warm, and understanding. “I said I’m gonna take care of you, and I am.” He hooks into the shred of vulnerability inside you, and tugs. Drags.

“You did. We did… we got married.”

“That’s not where this ends, and I think you know that.” You try to take a step back but he doesn’t let you. He doesn’t let you do anything. Fight. Hide. Run away. He has you in his sights and you’re too stunned to move, like always. Your breath hitches, and his hand slides from your shoulder to your neck, thumb under your jaw over your pulse. “You’ve done so well, baby, you’ve been so strong but you don’t have to do it all alone anymore. You won’t do it alone anymore.” You try to turn your head away but he frames your chin and forces you to face him.

“I don’t need your help.” You croak, throat dry. “I’ve told you-”

“You can be stubborn all you want. We can go around in circles for the rest of our lives Daisy,” what? “But it won’t change the truth. You won’t win.” You choke as his mouth presses to your forehead, thumb stroking your cheek. “Everything’s just fine,” he murmurs into your skin, “it’s gonna be okay.” You dig in your heels but that portion of that’s falling, that’s desperate to be caught by him, flexes and tests the leash you’re barely holding onto it by. That piece wants this.

“I don’t want you.” He chuckles and releases his grip, grabs his jacket off the back of the couch.

“I’ll pick you up for work tomorrow at six.” It’s so self assured your jaw drops. Arrogant asshole.

“I’ll get an uber.” You snap, even though you know it’s a lie. You couldn’t possibly afford an uber from all the way out here, and you have to take Riley to school. You’ll need to figure something out. He doesn’t even turn around, but you know his face has the hardness, the clinical edge on it by the firmness, the unyielding demand of his next words. A switch flipped so simply it’s shocking.

“No. You won’t.”