Rafe felt like he was in the middle of one of the melodramatic movies that Eliza had begun to watch on her iPad. She did not move a lot, but at the least she had stopped crying as much as she had been.
He knew that she did not want him there, but she was too weak to fight him. She slept a lot, and when she was awake she let him feed her when she bothered to eat.
But it was the uniformed Ingrid, standing in the middle of the living room that caused him the most grief. It would be his luck that the one time he slipped while he and Eliza broke up this time, that he would have had something fleeting with the woman who would end up being her nurse.
Ingrid was legitimate in her concern for Eliza, she had been caring for her while she was in a coma. When Rafe was called and appeared, Ingrid looked startled. But she masked it by being professional while Eliza was around. When Rafe asked about what he would need to do as her primary caretaker, Ingrid told him in painstaking detail about the care of the cuts and bruises Eliza had suffered—dressing and cleaning them. Giving her her pain medication, her diet—all of this Ingrid detailed patiently.
“I did not expect to see you again?” Ingrid started after she was done.
Rafe shook his head in agreement, and they both just stared at each other.
Rafe had been in a business meeting at a bar uptown, he was feeling particularly low and had definitely had more to drink than he should have. He was focusing more on Eliza, and only occasionally went to this Lila who was now the bane of his existence’s apartment where she dominated him.
When he saw Ingrid, he saw she was looking at him shyly. She was at the bar with two other people, but she was riveting. Her hair was pulled up and she looked retro, but current and beautiful. They just exchanged looks at first, but graduated to him offering her his hotel room card. She did not have to use it, because she was kissing him and touching him as he opened the door. Her warm breath went through his shirt, and her hand was on his thigh.
Now he looked at her, and she looked like a scrubbed down version of herself from that first night.
“Me either,” he said, looking at her with slit eyes so he could barely see Eliza in the background. Ingrid in all white was a blur, but in his full vision.
More Wicked Wednesday here. Did you read my Masturbation Monday/Kink of the Week this week? And Friday is Fleur Friday!!!
uniforms via wicked wednesday
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And so the plot thickens yet again. You are such a talented storyteller!
Rebel xox
i was wondering what you would think. Ingrid totally came about because of the uniform prompt! you keep turning the story around and around for me. i love it! xx