“That’s exactly why I’m here.”
He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “Thanks.”
“Hey,” I said. “Good news.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I could use some good news.”
“I was talking to Jake and Max and they've decided to work around your injuries. Jake said his crew and Tyler can handle the basics while you get back on your feet.”
He groaned softly and rubbed a hand over his face. “The show. I wasn’t even thinking about how this would impact production.”
“It's okay. You've had a lot going on. But it's good news that they're not interested in replacing you.”
He gave me a little grin. “I'm irreplaceable. Duh.”
My breath caught in my throat, my heart thudding hard in my chest. After a second, I shoved his thigh gently and laughed. “I guess you are.” Another moment passed and I cleared my throat and patted my thighs. “I should get back to making dinner. Are you okay in here?”
“Can you get me into the living room? I’m tired of being in bed.”
“Of course.” I reached out and helped him stand, waiting to be sure he’d be steady on his feet before I stepped away. I had the urge to reach out and let him lean on me the way I’d done previously, to touch him and support him. I suppressed that feeling and instead hovered behind him as he hobbled down the hallway and into the living room.
When he settled into his recliner, he let out a sigh of relief and grabbed the TV remote from the side table.
“Absolutely not,” I said with authority.
“Come on. Please?”
I took the TV remote out of his hand. “No. The articles all say no TV. You need to rest your brain.”
He grumbled something that sounded like “party pooper” and settled back into his recliner. “It’s boring just resting here.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “Listen to some music. It’ll be good for you. Here, I’ll put on this meditation channel and you can just relax.” I pointed the remote at the TV and clicked on the music app.
Asher snorted. “I feel like I’m in a spa. Or in a therapist’s waiting room.”
That drew a hearty laugh out of me. “Whatever you say. It’s good for you.”
“I have an idea.”
I raised my eyebrows and made a “continue” gesture with my hand.
“Let me sit at the breakfast bar while you cook. I won’t be in the way.”
I sighed. “Aren’t you going to be uncomfortable on a barstool? Wouldn’t you rather be in your nice, plush recliner?”
“Not really.”
“Alright, but if you start to feel bad, promise me you’ll come back in here.”
“Promise.”
“Fine,” I said, giving in before getting to work in the kitchen. By the time dinner was eaten, Asher was tired again, and I helped him get back to bed before settling in the guest room myself.
I admitted to myself as I was getting ready for bed that having him watch me cook was nice. Domestic. I liked it, more than I’d expected to.
The next day, he announced that he needed his first post-accident shower. He said it had been too many days and he felt gross.
I nodded in understanding. “I’ll help you get into the bathroom, but only if you promise to use the shower chair I made you buy.”
