I nip at her bottom lip, finally letting go.
“You’re actually evil,” she whispers as I withdraw. “You better not use that power too often, or we’ll have to talk.”
I flash her a cheeky grin. If she thinks I’m going to let that reaction to me slide… “Just glad to see the feeling is mutual for a change.”
She crosses her arms with a scowl on her face. “Oh, please, when have I ever had you wrapped around my finger likethat?”
Every second of every day for the past five years. Thank you very much.
No, we’re probably not at the I’ve-been-in-love-with-you-since-the-moment-I-saw-you-again stage.
“You remember that silk camisole you wore in the summer?” I trace my finger over her shoulder, blanketed in a thick layer of flannel. She closes her eyes as I slowly trail down her arm. “Payback’s a bitch, sweetheart.”
“Really?” she asks, her eyes wide with innocence.
I brush a piece of hair out of her face. “You were absolute torture.”
“But I didn’t even know what I was doing. How is that fair?”
“Not my fault that you didn’t realize I’m a mess around you most of the time.” I shrug.
“It kind of is since I thought you’re a mess in general.” She smirks, bringing her hand to my chest and placing her palm over my ink. “How about we strike a deal? Tell me what this tattoo says, and I promise to be the perfect patient.”
Ice floods my veins at this request, but I keep my expression neutral, careful not to show how much that request terrifies me.
For now, I’m eager to have her keep thinking it’s just a nothing burger tattoo I got as a college kid, not living proof she’s had my heart for years.
“How perfect?”
“I’ll let you boss me around for however long this recovery is. Hide my planner, whatever you want.”
I hide a shiver as she follows the curve of the ink with her fingertip. “Why do you want to know what it says so badly?”
“Because whatever it is, it meant enough for you to put it on your persona, and I want to know every inch of you, including this.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. Having Aulie resting and listening is tempting, but I can’t tell her, not yet. I’ll tell her someday, like when we’re old, and we’ve been married for fifty years, but not yet. “I’ll take my chances with my powers of seduction.” I lean in for another kiss but am less eagerly received.
“Oh. Right. Well, that’s just as well because I wanted to work, so now I can.” She pivots back to the desk, and I gently guide my hand to her hip and steer her to the bed.
“Aulie, you need to rest. Please leave all of this to Bridget, Emy, and me. We can handle it without you, I promise.”
“Oh right, you’re right, you’ll all have it under control, no need for me.” Her face falls, and I sense that maybe this runs deeper than a stubbornness to keep working. Dragging her feet, she returns to bed, and her sullen figure rips my heart to shreds. “Night.”
With a sigh, I tuck her in, flick the light off by her desk, and crawl back into bed beside her.
Clearing my throat, I do the only thing I can think to lift her spirits, even if it gives away more of myself than I’m ready to give. “It’s a poem from Byron.” My voice floats, unsure in the dark, landing between us.
“What’s it about?”
You.
“It’s a poem about stars, nothing more.”
“Oh. Why are you so embarrassed about it?”
“Not a part of my public image to have a nineteenth-century poem tattoed on me. But I was a weird college kid anyway, so whatever.” I lean over and lay a kiss on Aulie’s forehead. “I look forward to seeing your interpretation of a perfect patient and bossing you around.” The smirk plastered on my face clear in my tone.
“Worth it,” she says, in a way that suggests we’re both grinning through the darkness.
