Page 112 of Beautiful Forever
“She has three husbands.”
“And you.”
“As a friend.”
“Hmm,” he hums. “There is an old English proverb:You can’t see the forest for the trees.”
“I know it. Why?”
“But do you know what it means?”
There’s a light knock. “Sorry to interrupt,” Syn says, coming into the room with a glass of iced water, complete with a bendy straw, in one hand, and a bowl with a spoon in the other. She sets everything down on the nightstand. Whipping out a flashcard with a row of different face emojis hand-drawn on it in pencil, she asks, “What is your pain level?”
I give her a perplexed look.
“I’d say this one.” She points to the face in the middle with spiral eyes and a wavy mouth. “Let’s get some chicken broth in you, so you can take your pain meds.”
Sitting on the side of the bed, she picks up the bowl and dips the spoon in the broth. And then to my mortified horror, and Drako’s entertained chuckles, she tries to spoon-feed me.
I still her hand and get hot liquid spilled on my sweatpants. “I’m an adult, not a two-year-old.”
Undeterred, she tries again. “You’re the patient. I’m your doctor. Besides, my house, my rules. Now open up, or I’ll start making choo-choo noises.”
Knowing when to pick my battles, I relent and let her have her way. She’s barely left my bedside since we got here. How she’s able to function with no sleep for two days, on top of takingcare of Fénix and everything else she does, only proves that women really are the stronger sex.
“He’s not used to people taking care of him,” Drako comments.
“He’ll get used to it,” she replies, carefully feeding me the broth. The salt stings the scabbed-over cuts on my mouth, but it’s fucking delicious. “Eat up so I can give you some ibuprofen.”
“Hendrix make this?” The guy is a culinary genius. He can make what is basically flavored water taste like the best meal you’ve ever eaten. Syn thinks he should open a restaurant.
“Yep.” She catches a drop that escapes down my chin. “For the non-bedridden, we’re having steaks on the grill for dinner, if you would like to join us. Just be warned, if you like yours well-done, don’t tell Hendrix. I’ll sneak it into the microwave with mine.”
Drako walks around the side of the bed and bends down to kiss the top of her head. “Thank you for the invitation, but I need to get going. When this one gets back on his feet, come to the house for dinner. All of you. Open invitation.”
Switching from the broth to the glass of water, she holds the straw to my lips. “I’d like that. Thank you. Do you celebrate Thanksgiving?”
“We do. It won’t be the same without Aleksander there this year.”
Syn’s mouth curves downward at the corners. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mind that not happening.”
“I’m right here,” I protest. “Third-person commentary isn’t required.”
Drako takes her hand and kisses the back of her wrist. Lowering his voice, he tells her, “You’re good for him,” and walks out.
“He’s sweet,” Syn comments.
“Only to people he likes.” I grimace through the pain as I ease my legs over the side of the bed.
Syn immediately reacts. “What are you doing?”
“Going to the bathroom?” I answer with inflection.
She crawls across the bed and takes my arm.
“Songbird, I don’t need?—”
