“Not funny. Can you check our eggs? Did any survive?” Moaning, I glance at the plastic bags strewn all over the room.
“I’m more worried about you. Can you stand?”
“No.” I probably can but I’m not about to say so. I told him a gym in the reception area was a bad idea. What if we had a fire? We’d kill all the first responders before they could make it in the house. No, worse than that. No one could get in. Me and Suds would die of smoke inhalation because of all the shit in front of the door.
“Babe, wrap your arms around my neck.” He helps me onto the bench, kneels, and inspects my poor ankle.
“Ouch.” I’m entitled to the petulant tone. He almost killed me. Not to mention, if I want more eggs, I’ll have to again risk catching the coronavirus.
“Can you put weight on it? He lifts me by my underarms and I limp more than necessary, but trust me, he deserves it.
With his help, I hop through the door and drop on the couch. Either the cushions were filled overnight with cement or I got a hell of a bruise on my ass.
“Shit.” I pull down my pants, look over my shoulder and stick my butt in the air. “Is it bad?”
Suds winces. “Your booty has a big bump.”
“I know. Your stupid gym is possessed and you left your weights everywhere.”
“Sorry, darlin’.” He looks so miserable I feel awful for grumping at him but not overly so.
“I know you didn’t mean to, but I need to be able to leave the apartment without taking my life in my hands.”
“To be fair, it really isn’t my fault you’re kind of… clumsy.” His brows lift and I lose it.
“Really? Really? We’re going there?” I jump on my good foot, limp over to the door and inch it open.
To make a point, I squeeze through and retrieve the spewed groceries. Everything is pretty much intact, except for the eggs dripping out of their containers. I save as many as I can and glower at my spouse.
Suds follows. “Why didn’t you just hit stop?”
“Well, I was kind of busy trying to keep our food from flying all over the place.” I send him my most perfected scowl while he inspects the machine, kneels, and gathers the rest of our provisions.
“How did you turn it on, anyhow?”
“How the hell do I know? I was squeezing through the door, grabbed a handle, and must’ve placed my palm on the panel. After that, it was mayhem. And for the record, I am not a klutz.”
He has the good sense not to say anything but his hint of a grin makes me lose my fucking mind. “I cannot help it if you’ve got ninja skills. Me Jane. You Tarzan. You need fix jungle or grow vine. Me swing over gym.”
When I return to our kitchen wall, he smiles and kisses my boo-boo which happens to be on my butt cheek. After, he steps into our tiny living room, which is barely large enough for a couch and small coffee table.
“I suppose I could install the bench in here.” Then, he points up at the loft. “Or, I could bring it up there. I don’t have to stand to lift weights.”
I picture him on his hands and knees, switching heavy discs, and giggle. “No. I’m sorry. I’ll get used to it. Just promise, the moment the zombification ends, we remove all of the gear. And leave orange tape on the floor where I’m supposed to walk… and find a priest to exorcize the treadmill. Get it? Exorcize?
“Funny. Anything else?”
“Can you make breakfast?” I’m about to mention how much better I would feel after almost-tripped-to-death-guilt-sex when my phone pings.
NICE TRY
I hand my Samsung to my partner. “What do you think it means?”
“Fuck.” Frowning, he calls Jason. “Who sent Sam’s most recent text message?”
A map with a yellow star in the middle of the Red Sea opens on my computer and we both rush over.
“Who is this guy? Moses?” Sebastian scowls at the avatar then at me.
