Curvy Perfection by Christa Wick & C.M. Wick

Author:Christa Wick & C.M. Wick [Wick, Christa & Wick, C.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Christa Wick

Chapter 13

The doctors released Ellen from the hospital on Tuesday with the caveat that she needed bed rest for a few more weeks.

Cayce and I helped Marcus get her home. We didn’t say anything to one another or to the teen, but it was clear that Ellen wouldn’t be coming back to work. Even after she recovered with bed rest, therapy would be needed to work on restoring her speech and the use of her left arm and fine motor skills in both hands.

It was also obvious that Marcus was going to have to cut down his hours. Ellen’s husband had died a decade ago, her only child Rachel was divorced and on disability. When it came to looking after a bedridden Ellen, most of the work would land on Marcus’s young shoulders.

For the clinic, that meant Cayce was down two employees. He was also paying sick leave for Ellen and Marcus and overtime for the employees who had room in their personal schedule to put in extra hours on the clinic.

Mostly, though, it was Cayce at the clinic working from at least six in the morning until at least ten at night, with Jess putting in a few hours after the practice was closed to clean up and prep for the next day.

I knew I was going straight to hell for thinking it, but the extra hours my new husband was away were a relief. I didn’t have to worry over our “first night” because we split it between sitting in the emergency room and then the ICU with Marcus, then following him home to make sure he made it back okay. I didn’t have to worry about Saturday because, despite the late opening and early close, Cayce had to work the same crazy hours he did Monday through Friday because both Marcus and Ellen had been scheduled.

On the following Saturday, I came downstairs to find Cayce sitting upright in one of the winged side chairs, still dressed in the clothes he wore at the clinic, with one foot in his boot and the other foot bare. I wasn’t sure whether he had fallen asleep getting ready to go back in or if he’d sat down upon arriving home the night before and never made it to bed.

Terrible fake wife that I was, I had been hiding upstairs each night from about eight on.

I called his name a little above a whisper, not wanting to startle him. When there was no response, I moved within arm’s reach and patted his shoulder as I repeated myself.

“Cayce, shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?”

He responded with a full-bodied jerk, his eyes flying open to reveal the gray irises surrounded by bloodshot whites. He wiped at his face, muscles straining against a yawn. His head sort of fell to one side as he looked at the window near the front door and saw all the sunlight.

“Hell,” he said, then looked at his watch, his face going through all sorts of contortions as he tried to get his bleary eyes to work.

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