I’m halfway down the corridor and almost to the toilet door when I realise Tristan is right beside me.
“I can manage to go to the bathroom by myself you know, I–” I stop talking as my gaze falls on Delores, who’s tottering along behind us like a homing pigeon.
“Oh for—” Tristan shakes his head. He holds out his hands and takes hold of her gently, manoeuvring her onto the little row of plastic chairs lined up against the wall. “Sit… stay,” he says slowly as he holds up his hands and backs away carefully. “Ah.” He holds up a finger when she tries to stand. “No,” he tells her firmly. “Sit and wait.” She sits back down in the chair, watching him as she grips the handle of her handbag tightly and settles it on her lap. “Okay.” He lets out a breath and turns back to me. “We need to talk.”
Seeing another nurse pushing a patient in a wheelchair down the corridor, I open the door and step into the toilet. I reach for the pull cord and hope it’s not the one for the patient alarm system. Fortunately, the room is flooded with a dim light, and I lock the door behind me. I stop in front of the toilet and lift the hospital gown out of the way.
“You know, you really do have a very nice looking penis, Tristan,” I ponder as I look down and aim.
“Oh god.” Sounding mortified, he rubs his forehead as if he’s in pain. “Can you not look?”
“Not really, unless you want me to pee up the wall,” I reply. “Really, honey, there’s no need to be embarrassed. I've seen so many cocks it would make your eyes spin like a fruit machine.”
“That’s not really a ringing endorsement, Dusty,” he replies. “And to be honest, it makes you sound a little slutty.”
I find myself laughing despite the ridiculous situation we are currently in. I glance across at Tristan and see his mouth curving into a reluctant smile.
“What the hell are we going to do, boo?” I give a little shake as I finish peeing for England. Seriously, how many bags of fluids did they give me last night? And I flush the loo, turning to wash my hands as Tristan watches me thoughtfully in the mirror. “Danny’s waiting in that room to fuss over his boyfriend, but instead he’s getting me packaged as you. This is a whole avalanche of awkward.”
“It can’t be helped,” he sighs in resignation. “Until we can figure out how to switch me back into my body, you’re going to have to pretend you’re me.”
I can feel my eyes widen as I turn toward him sharply. “You don’t mean I have to… you know…” I make a ring with one hand and stick my finger through the hole.
“Classy.” His tone is droll as he raises his brows. “And no, absolutely not. No sex whatsoever. You’re about to have a lot of headaches, so get used to it.”
“Oh please.” I roll my eyes. “I’m sure I can come up with a better excuse than that.” Another thought occurs to me. “Fuck, what am I going to tell Bruce?”
“Let’s not borrow more trouble, Dusty,” he says as I ball up the paper towels I’ve just used to dry my hands and chuck them in the overflowing bin. “We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it.”
“I suppose we better go back and deal with Danny,” I sigh.
“Just be gentle with him,” Tristan says quietly. “I imagine what happened yesterday was a big shock for him. He thought I’d be safe, and I’d bet my collector’s edition steel book ofLord of the Ringsthat he’s blaming himself.”
“Don’t worry, boo.” I blow him a kiss. “I haven’t just got your back… literally. I got your man’s back, too. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”
Tristan nods slowly and I unlock the door and step out into the corridor. As we pass by the row of plastic chairs, Delores rises obediently and takes Tristan’s hand. At least with him herding her along, she might be less inclined to wander off.
Upon reaching the room, I draw in a breath. I can totally do this. I can convince a clever and sweet detective that nothing weird is going on and that I am, in fact, the cute, kinda awkward, marginally sarcastic pathologist he’s in love with. I’ve got this.
I walk into the room and take one look at his face.
I so haven’t got this.
Thankfully, the evil nurse with the port-a-potty is nowhere to be seen. Danny immediately rises from the visitor’s chair where he was perched and reaches for me, his face so filled with concern my heart almost breaks. He takes my hands as if I am literally the most precious thing in the world to him and draws me over to the bed and helps me sit down, then lifts my legs, carefully removes the paper booties, and tucks me under the thin hospital-issue blankets.
“Better?” He plumps up my pillow.
“Much, thank you.” I smile for him and it’s genuine.
I’m so glad Tristan has him. This is a very strange position to be in though. I’ve watched him and Tristan interact with each other for months. It’s plain to see they love each other deeply, but seeing it… feeling it from Tristan’s perspective has me pausing.
I’ve only ever had superficial relationships. I’m sure a shrink could dissect why—losing my mum at such a young age, my issues with my father growing up—but the truth is, I was just never interested in anything serious. Life was for living and believe me, I did a hell of a lot of living in the thirty short years I had a pulse. I never felt like I’d missed out on anything. I have no regrets—other than being murdered, of course.
But now, seeing the way Danny looks at me, or rather Tristan, I can’t help feeling a little envious, and with that foreign feeling comes a startling realisation that maybe I do want something more.
My thoughts are immediately drawn to a dark-haired rugby player that haunts a certain bookshop, and I wonder for the first time if more has been under my nose this whole time.
“You seem really deep in thought.” Danny draws my attention back to him.
