Page 91 of Tap Left
I nod. Daire is back in control. It’s where he belongs and where we are both most comfortable. I let him take the wheel, but he doesn’t get to steer the conversation.
“Is what Grazi said true?”
He nods reluctantly, eyes broken, but determined.
“They wanted to take my leg, but I’ve been getting around for the last twelve years alright. What’s another forty?”
“Will you… I mean can you… are you paralyzed?”
He gestures to the tent currently holding up his pants. “If I were, would I be able to do this?”
I laugh, but only because I’m so relieved. “I guess not.”
“It’s a long road ahead,” he says, and this time he’s serious. “Physical therapy. Even then, nothing’s a guarantee. I’ll be in pain. All the time. I’ll be a moody son of a bitch.”
“So nothing new,” I offer.
“Nothing new,” Daire agrees.
My tears have stopped, but I don’t move. He’s still the Daire that I know, and I needed to see that. I needed to know that his spirit isn’t broken. He’s warm and comfortable, and he smells good, even in his currently disheveled and unwashed state.
“If I could, Lola, I’d make you a million pretty promises.”
I swallow as I meet his eyes. He’s not joking anymore. And I don’t know where we stand. I don’t know anything.
“I don’t need promises,” I tell him. “I just need you to try. Every day, I need you to get up and keep fighting.”
He focuses on my face, drinking in every detail. It’s the most vulnerable he’s ever been. And his go-to method of dealing with that is usually to push me away. But this time, I won’t let him.
“I can’t ask you to stay,” he says. “Not like this.” “You can’t ask me to leave. Because I won’t.”
“It would only be out of guilt,” he surmises.
“Maybe,” I answer. “Or maybe not. Maybe, Adrian, and I know you might find this difficult to believe… but maybe I actually care about you, and I want what’s best for you.”
“Hmm,” he hums. “Does this mean I get to fuck you again?”
I slap him in the arm and roll my eyes. “No. Friends first.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he pouts.
“Friends first,” I insist. “The rest… well, that’s a mess for another time.”
41
Daire
Iam not a patient man. For the entire portion of my business-minded life, I’ve done everything in my power to avoid meaningless tasks. Waiting in lines? There’s an assistant somewhere who can do that. Droll everyday errands? Not my problem. Making sandwiches? Most definitely not my fucking problem.
When you run an empire, you learn how to delegate. Nobody in my life seems to understand this simple concept, and most especially Lola. She crosses her arms and squishes her breasts between them. “You can do it yourself.”
“I think you missed the point. I don’t want to do it myself.”
“Boo-fucking-hoo,” she snaps. “We all have to do things we don’t want to, Daire. That’s a part of life.”
“Not my life,” I mutter.
“She’s right,” Grazi butts in, and I liked it better when they hated each other. Now they’ve assembled a team whose sole purpose is to make my life miserable.
