“Okay, can you hold the gauze back in place? It’s hemorrhaging more than I wish it were.”
I pressed the gauze to my face. If I passed out or had to be rushed to the hospital, Lila restrained with tape over her mouth might not look the best. It would be very difficult to spin that.
Blake returned with a bowl and opened a saline bag.
“Could this not end well? What are the chances of you rushing me to the hospital? I have some things I need to take care of that are time sensitive.”
He chuckled. “Hold the bowl right here. Do you want to leave me instructions in case this goes south? Do you have a hooker locked in a closet?” He snickered more.
No hooker. Just my wife bound and gagged. No big deal.
“Fuck …” I grimaced as he flushed out my wound.
“Sorry.” After torturing me for a good thirty seconds, he narrowed his eyes, inspecting my cheek. “For this to heal with minimal scaring, I think you need a skin graft.”
“Whatever, just do it.”
“Graham … no. I can’t do a skin graft here in your office. You need to come to the hospital.”
“Then no. Just make it stop bleeding.”
“It won’t look right.”
“You’re the best, Blake. So do your fucking best. I can’t leave.”
He returned another frown. I closed my eyes and worked out my next moves while he repaired my face.
“It’s going to be sore. Here’s some pain meds for you. I can’t get you more without you making an official visit to my office. Don’t get it wet for a few days and change the bandage daily using this antibiotic ointment for the next three days. I’ll check it in a week. Call me if you spike a fever, have increased swelling or redness. Got it?”
I popped a pill into my mouth and swallowed it without water. “Got it. Thanks.”
He zipped his bag and squinted at me. “Are you okay? You don’t have to tell me who bit you, but if you’re in trouble or danger …”
“No trouble. No danger. See yourself out.”
I waited for the door to click shut before sitting up.
“God …” I lay back down. I didn’t do well with injuries to myself. They always made me nauseous and dizzy. After another ten minutes on the sofa, I sat up slower and remained sitting for another few minutes before climbing to my feet.
Taking slow deep breaths, I made my way toward the stairs, swaying a bit but willing myself to man the fuck up and stop being so queasy.
“What are we going to do about this?” I collapsed onto the bed next to Lila. “I’m too fucking weak to deal with you.” I rolled onto my side so we faced each other.
Her wide eyes darted from my eyes to my face.
“A friend stitched me up. Apparently you ate part of my face, so there could be a scar. Remember when we were named Most Beautiful Couple of the Year? I fear that honor will not be bestowed upon us again. You look like you’re dying of cancer and I look like a rabid dog attacked me. We are in such a pickle, babe. I just don’t know what to do with you.”
She wrinkled her nose and thrashed her head side to side.
“Do you have an idea?” I ripped the tape from her mouth.
Lila flinched. “Just kill me.”
“I don’t want to kill you.”
“Then let me go.”
“Go where?”
“Anywhere but here.”
I rubbed my neck. “Doesn’t work that way. We’re not some low-class suburban couple who no one gives a shit about.”
“Maybe I die in a car accident.”
I inspected her face. It showed no emotion, just like her words. “Fake your death?”
Inching her head side to side, she whispered in that eerily calm voice, “Not fake.”
“You want to die?”
Lila blinked a few times before giving me a single nod. She thought her husband was screwing her best friend. She had no family, no other friends. She lied to Ronin about having cancer. Of course she wanted to die.
Could it be that simple?
That simplistic idea swirled in my head. Was the answer to simply untie her, go back to my daily routine, and wait for her to end things? Evelyn would be devastated. I would be there to comfort her … I would need comforting too. It was brilliant. Well, tragic, but brilliant.
“After Christmas. I don’t want to ruin the holidays for Evelyn, Ronin, and the kids. This is their first holiday season without her mom. I don’t want to add to that grief until Christmas is over.”
How did she do it? How did Lila talk about planning her death with the confidence of planning a dinner party?
“And how am I supposed to believe you won’t say anything before then?”
“You don’t. But you also don’t have a better option than to trust me.”