Table for Two-epub (14 page)

She pressed her hand to her heart.

Another hand landed on her shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” Greg said again. “I promise.”

She nodded, but seeing James like this made it difficult to believe Greg. Liv walked to one side of his bed, Ava stood on the other.

“It’ll take a while, though,” Greg told them. “He’ll be in hospital until the surgery and a good few days after too.”

“Which is when?” Ava asked.

“The orthopedic surgeon couldn’t make it today. He’s coming in tomorrow just for Jimmy.”

“He’s good?” Olivia checked.

“Best in Sydney.”

“What happens after surgery?”

“Depending on the length of the op, he’ll need another day or two recovering here before he can go home. And heaps of physiotherapy after that.”

Olivia sat in the hospital-issued armchair, and Greg told them everything he knew. The injury would take a while to heal. Probably months before James got back the full use of his leg, but he really would be one hundred percent fine.

By the time Greg was done explaining, Liv had calmed down enough to recognize when his tone changed—along with the direction of the conversation.

“So, Liv, I’ve told you everything I know. Is there…something you’d like to tell us?”

She raised an eyebrow in question.

“The morphine loosened Jimmy’s tongue. He did a lot of talking before he fell into this semi-comatose state.”

A good description of James now, as he’d hardly twitched since they’d walked in the room. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was the only thing assuring Liv he was still alive.

She frowned. “I heard some of his loose-tongued talk when he phoned earlier.” She could only imagine what else the nurse had been privy to—and worse, what he’d told Greg.

“Care to share it with us?” Greg prompted with a mischievous smile.

Liv smiled back. “Not even a little bit.”

“Aw, c’mon, Liv,” Ava said. “Tell us what he said.”

“Not a chance.”

“Greg?” Ava turned her pretty brown eyes on him. “If Liv won’t say anything, why don’t you tell us?”

“Well, Av, it appears I owe you fifty dollars.”

“You do?”

“Yep, you won the bet.”

“I won?” Ava let out a small whoop.

“According to our sleeping friend here, not only are things smoking between him and Liv, but apparently Liv made the first move.”

“She did?” Her gleeful gaze swung to Liv. “You did? Oh, sweetie, I’m so proud of you!”

“Wha…?” Liv’s jaw dropped.

“Tore the shirt clean off his shoulders, I believe.” Amusement danced in Greg’s eyes.

“Oh, my God! I did not,” Liv denied vehemently.

“Standing outside your flat, Av. She couldn’t even wait to get inside.”

“Oi! Lies. All of it.” But Liv couldn’t fight off the flush that crept up her face. Her cheeks burned.

Sheesh, what had James said, anyway? Okay, yes, she’d, er, accidentally unbuttoned his shirt in the lobby of their building—but she hadn’t made the first move. “He kissed me first,” she flung at them.

“And then you ripped off his shirt?” Ava asked, her tone delighted, her eyes as amused as Greg’s.

“
No.
I never ripped off his shirt.” His towel maybe. Not his shirt.

Greg smirked. “That’s not what Jimmy said.”

“He’s high as a kite. You can’t possibly take his word for anything in this state.”

“So you’re saying he made the first move?” he asked.

“Yes.” She sniffed. “He definitely did.” Not that she’d fought him off in any way. The only thing she’d tried to do to stop the kiss was strip the man naked.

“That’s good news, Liv. Really good news.” The teasing had disappeared from Greg’s voice. “I was worried Jimmy was hallucinating there for a while.” His smile spread across his face. “I’m happy for you guys. It’s taken long enough.”

“Liv and Jimmy sitting in a tree,” Ava crooned. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

The burning in her cheeks flared across her neck and chest as Liv realized what she’d done. “Y-you tricked me into telling you that,” she accused them both.

“Hey, you weren’t exactly breaking speed records sharing the deets,” Ava responded.

“There’s nothing to tell,” she said emphatically. Yeah, she and James had slept together. A lot. But more than that, nothing had changed. Well, okay, everything had changed, but nothing had really,
really
changed.

“When two of my closest friends shag each other, there’s something to tell,” Greg insisted.

“Shit.” Liv glared at him. “I should have poisoned him when I had the chance. Or better yet, poisoned you.”

He just laughed and turned to Ava. “You owe me fifty bucks.”

“It appears I do.” Ava opened her bag and took out her purse. “Best fifty dollars I’ve ever spent.” She handed Greg the yellow note. “Hey, maybe we can put that toward their engagement present.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Liv huffed. “We’re not getting engaged.” Jeez, they weren’t even a couple. A quick hook-up every night for a week, yeah, but not a couple.

“Absolutely not,” Greg told Ava. “I’m buying myself something awesome with this money. I earned it fair and square.”

“But…but what about their engagement present?”

“We can go look for one tomorrow. While Jimmy’s in surgery. It’ll make the wait seem shorter.”

“There is no engagement!” But for all her effort, Liv might as well have been talking to the wall.

“Okay,” Ava agreed with Greg. “Maybe you can spend your fifty bucks at the same time?”

“At the same time as what?” Spencer asked as he and Levi walked into the room.

“At the same time as we shop for Liv and Jimmy’s engagement present,” Ava said.

“You’re getting married?” Levi asked, clearly impressed. “I thought we were here because Jimmy broke his leg.”

“A wedding’s a much better reason to visit,” Spencer said.

“Jimmy did break his leg,” Greg filled them in. “But that was only after he kissed Liv, and Liv tore his shirt off.”

“So he came to the hospital shirtless?” Levi asked.

“Nah, mate.” Greg shook his head. “She tore his shirt off a couple weeks back. He came to the hospital in his rugby gear.”

“Right. You said he’d broken the leg at today’s game.” Levi turned to Liv. “It’s better this way,” he told her. “Would have been concerning if he’d broken it because you tore his clothes off.”

Liv just gaped at him, speechless.

“So, when’s the big day?” Spence asked. “And why’d it take so long? We’ve been waiting years for the announcement.”

Liv dropped her head in her hands and groaned. Partly because she had the most annoying friends in the entire world, and partly because she had the best friends in the entire world. There they were, discussing her and James’s imminent nuptials—and Liv wasn’t even sure how she felt about the man.

“Whose big day?” The room grew even more crowded as Theo and Zoey walked in.

“Liv and James,” Spence told them. “They’re engaged.”

Zoey squealed in delight.

“That’s great,” Theo enthused. “About time too.”

“Oh, my God.” Liv spluttered. “We’re not engaged, and we’re not getting married.” But she did take a second to imagine what it might be like being married to James. She couldn’t help herself. And what she imagined was altogether too appealing for her peace of mind.

“Yet,” Ava said. “It makes sense to wait ’til Jimmy’s well enough to walk down the aisle.”

“I’m walking down the aisle?” a gruff voice asked. Liv’s heart jerked, and all eyes turned to the man lying on the bed. “When?”

“Soon as your leg’s better,” Ava said.

“There’s something wrong with my leg?”

“Yeah, mate.” Greg stepped closer to the bed. “You broke it.” 

“I did?” James looked down at the cast in curiosity. “Hmmm, fancy that.” He closed his eyes and the muscles in his neck stood out, as though he strained to do something. “Well, shit.”

“Problem?” Greg asked.

“Yeah.” James looked perplexed. “I can’t walk down the aisle. My leg won’t move.”

“It’s temporary,” Ava said. “You’ll have an op, then a few weeks of recovery, and after that you’ll be able to walk just fine.”

“Okay.” He looked at his leg again, then back at Ava. “Wait. Who am I walking down the aisle with?”

Ava’s voice was drowned out in the cacophony of answers echoing off the wall.

“Liv.”

“Olivia.”

“Liv.”

“Liv.”

“You’re getting married,” Zoey said. “Remember?”

“We are?” James squinted and looked at every person in the room until he found Liv, sitting beside the bed, squirming in hideous embarrassment. He grinned when he saw her and held his hand out.

Aware that every person in the room was watching, she took his hand in hers. It was cool and a bit clammy, but it was James’s hand, and when he linked their fingers together, Liv was so happy to hold it, she wondered if she’d ever let go again.

“We’re getting married?” he asked her. Before she could reply, he nodded happily. “Cool.” Then he lay his head back on the pillow, closed his eyes, and once again fell fast asleep, leaving Liv alone to accept the chorus of hearty congratulations for an engagement that did not exist.

Her only saving grace was that James would not remember a word of this conversation.

“I feel like an invalid,” James grouched four days later, as he sat heavily on Liv’s bed, setting the crutches against the bedside table.

“You’re not an invalid, you’re recovering from major surgery. Now stop moaning, put your feet up and lie back.” Liv pushed his shoulder as she spoke, urging him to do as she said.

Gingerly, James lifted his injured leg to the bed and set it down. At least the cast was smaller than the first one he’d had, coming to just below his knee.

The trip from the hospital back to her flat an hour ago had left him exhausted, and the medication the doc had given him for pain was starting to wear off. “I don’t see why I couldn’t just have gone home to my place,” he said for the twentieth time in an hour.

Yeah, he sounded like a petulant kid, but damn it, he just wanted to go upstairs, get into bed and sleep for a month.

“Because you wouldn’t have made it. Bum-jumping up eight flights of steps is tough under normal circumstances. A recently broken leg makes it almost impossible—even for a muscle-bound oaf like yourself.”

Liv’s patience was obviously wearing as thin as his. They’d debated his rehab accommodation for days, and though James had argued vigorously, Liv and Ava had railroaded him into staying with them.

Their flat was the obvious solution, being on the ground floor and as close to his place as possible. While the physiotherapist would teach him to tackle stairs on one leg shortly, now was too soon. Plus, he’d have two people to help him when needed, and considering he was all but immobile, he was going to need the help.

Still, it was their place, not his, and James was not used to relying on anyone else.

He was sore and grumpy, and his mood wasn’t helped by the knowledge that he should have been at rugby practice now, along with the rest of his team. Rugby practice—and games—had officially been deleted from his schedule for the rest of the season. As had weight training and physical exercise of any sort. The only workout James would be getting was under the strict supervision of a physiotherapist.

Judging from the buckets he’d sweated at his first two sessions at hospital, physio sessions were about as much physical exertion as he’d tolerate for a while.

He grimaced as he shifted to get more comfortable.

“It’s time for your meds.” Liv helped him adjust the pillows before walking to the door. “I’ll get them.”

James breathed in the floral scent of her sheets when she left, accepting that he’d be smelling them for the next two weeks, at least.

He sighed heartily. Christ, next time he’d be more careful about what he wished for. Yeah, he wanted to spend whole nights in bed with Liv, but there were better ways of achieving his aims than smashing his bones to smithereens. The pins and metal rod currently resting in his shin bore testament to the amount of damage he’d done.

Bottom line? James was fucking miserable.

Ava bustled in with a tray of tea and home-baked cookies. James hadn’t drunk tea in years, and the last thing he felt like now was a cuppa. But Ava looked so determined to make him happy, he accepted the hot drink graciously. He used it to wash the painkillers down and managed to swallow a cookie or ten while at it.

The tea was oddly comforting, as was Ava’s continual chatter. It helped him relax and quit wallowing in self-pity. Liv wasn’t quite so talkative, but she was there, in the room with them, her presence a quiet strength.

Ava might have been the one who tried to talk James into coming back to stay with them, but it was Liv who’d made the final decision in that no-nonsense way of hers, telling him he was recuperating at their place—end of discussion.

The drug-induced haze that sent James floating off to nowhere in particular was the only reason he’d let the discussion end.

James couldn’t deny being here was a good thing. Going home now, alone and in pain, would likely trigger a severe depression.

The curtain had just gone down on James’s rugby career. He’d known it would be over soon—he’d been dreading it—but he’d figured he have months to get used to the idea. This sudden-death situation? It crushed him. Obliterated him.

Yeah, he’d get back into his weight training, and he’d return to work when he was healed enough, but playing rugby was well and truly a part of his past, and James just wasn’t ready to deal with that.

The drugs began to take effect, and he drifted in and out of the conversation before falling into a deep sleep.

The only thing that stirred him to semi-consciousness was the shifting of the bed as Liv climbed in. And though she didn’t curl into him, or attack his body as she usually did when the two of them got near a bed together, her presence beside him felt reassuring.

James tucked her hand in his and didn’t wake again until the next morning.

“Dad.” James suppressed the urge to rap his fist against his forehead in frustration. “If you took a minute to consider my suggestion, you’d realize it wasn’t the stupidest idea on earth.”