“Don’t be stubborn when you’re still fuckingbleeding,” I hiss. It comes out angrier than I mean it to, but I can’t handle her stubbornness when it comes at her own expense.
“Please, can you just bandage me up yourself?” She blinks up at me, her eyes still swimming with tears. “We can call the doctor if the bleeding doesn't stop.”
“Fine.” I don't like it, but if she lets me clean it and bandage it, at least I can be sure it won't get infected. I can always send a photo to my doctor for a second opinion.
She follows me to my bathroom, where she perches on the counter while I get supplies out of the medicine cabinet. She winces when we run her wound under water and wash it with soap, but she doesn’t say anything. I suspect she thinks if she complains, I’ll call the doctor whether she likes it or not.
She might be right about that.
Fortunately, once I clean the wound, I see that it’s actually smaller and cleaner than I expected. It stops bleeding long enough for me to apply antibiotic ointment. By the time I’m wrapping her hand in a clean bandage, my hands are shaking as much as hers.
“Thank you,” she says when I’m done.
Asking her if she’s alright seems pointless, since the answer is obviously no. Instead, I ask, “No stiffness? No problems moving your fingers?”
“No. It feels fine—I mean, apart from hurting a bit. I can take some Tylenol.”
I bite my lip. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her to stay with me tonight, just in case something happens. But it’s not like this is a head wound. If it starts to hurt, she can always just come to my room and get me.
“You’ll tell me if the pain gets worse?” I ask.
She shoots me a crooked smile. “I think you just saw the worst it could possibly get. But I’ll let you know. Good night, James.”
As I watch her walk back to her room, I hope she’s right.
I don’t want to see her in pain like that ever fucking again.
18
JAMES
Meetings keep me at the office until almost midnight, but I text Maura three times during the day, asking how her hand is doing. The first two times, her answer is a simple:fine.The third time, she sends me a gif of the armlessMonty Python and the Holy Grailknight with the quote, “Tis but a flesh wound.”
Luckily, she’s still awake when I get home, curled up on the couch with a book. I frown, seeing the thick white bandage still on her hand.
“It’s fine,” she says, rolling her eyes before I can even ask.
My frown softens. “I have something for you.”
Maura glances down at the rolled paper in my hands. “Is it a canvas?”
“No.” I bring it to the kitchen counter and unroll it for her. “It's a blueprint.”
Her shoulder lightly brushes against mine as she moves over to my side. “A blueprint of what? Should I be able to tell?”
“Not unless you have a background in architecture that you forgot to mention.” I point to the walls. “This is your studio.”
“What’s this?” Her paint-stained finger lands on a square in the corner.
“Nothing yet. But if you approve, it'll be a dumbwaiter system. It will be capable of carrying large loads of stone up from a new storage area in our parking garage. That way you can process it in the industrial rock crusher. The architect drew up two options for where that might go.”
I flipped the top blueprint over, revealing the two options underneath. Maura sucks in breath. “I thought my studio was finished,” she murmurs.
“I thought it was. It turns out, you needed a way to crush your diamonds, and any other stones you find. We don't have to build it, if you think it'll take up too much space.”
“Shhh.” She nudges my arm. “Don't say silly things like that. Of course I want it. I just can't believe you thought of this. It's…It's amazing, James.”
“Does this mean I'm forgiven for the optics comment?”
