“That’s for making Katie cry, asshole.”
I rubbed the spot she’d just abused and sighed. “Okay, fair.”
“Jesus, that’s so not cool.”
“I know. I need to make it up to her somehow. Maybe a spa weekend or something.”
“That’s actually a really good idea. I know just the place.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I’ll send you the details,” she promised, pulling into an open parking space.
After helping me into the wheelchair, she guided me inside and we waited for the x-ray tech to take me back.
* * *
One week later, after getting the all-clear from the surgeon to start putting weight on my leg, and after sending Katie the gift certificate for the spa weekend, she finally took my phone call.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Hey.”
“I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” I breathed out.
“Yes, so your note said with the spa certificate,” she said. “Thank you for that, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I have a really busy day, Razor, so can I help you with something?” she asked.
“No, I just wanted to apologize and see if you wanted to swing by tonight for dinner. Maisie’s askin’ and I told her I’d call you because I wanted tohear your voice and apologize. Again. And I’ll keep apologizing until I can get my arms around you and see your face when you accept it.”
“Did Flea really punch you?”
“Yep. Still have the bruise.”
“Sorry he did that, buddy.”
“I deserved it, sweetheart. I’ve been treating you like shit and you don’t deserve it.”
“Well, that’s true, but he shouldn’t have hit you.”
“I needed to pull my head out of my ass. Obviously,” I countered.
“Tell Maisie I’d love to come for dinner.”
“Okay, great. Six?”
“Six is perfect.”
“See you then.”
“Okay, Razor. Bye.”
We rang off and I smiled, feeling like the weight of the world was finally starting to lift off my shoulders.
Katie arrived just before six, walking back to the family room and immediately hugging me. “Hey, buddy.”
