Breaking Down

Chapter 27

27

Gabi

I picked up all the plates, trays, and cups and brought them to the kitchen, and then I took off my boots, put on an apron so as not to ruin my dress, and set to work.

My hands kept busy rinsing the plates before putting them into the dishwasher, and scooping the rest of the food in small containers and storing them in the fridge, but my mind was free and wild.

Charlie seemed like a great man, and despite his weak appearance, I was sure he had been a strong, robust man a few years ago. He had the same intense eyes as his son, and strong chin and jaw, and he had seemed pleased with the little production I had set up. For a moment, right before they arrived, I thought I had overdone it. After all, it wasn’t anyone’s birthday, graduation, or celebration. I was just going to meet the father of my not-so-fake husband—a man who was dying of cancer. Who, on their deathbed, wanted a party?

Yet, he had loved it. Or he had pretended he did.

“What is that pout for?”

I almost dropped the glass pan I was washing—it didn’t fit in the dishwasher—at the sound of Tyler’s voice behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Meu Deus, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Only because you were lost in thought.” He grabbed a drying cloth and one of the bigger pots from the drying rack. “So, hm, the man didn’t shut up about you until I left the bedroom, and even so, I thought he would get up from the bed just to tell me how wonderful you are one last time.”

I smiled. “That’s sweet.”

He placed the pot in its place inside the cabinet then turned to me, his eyes serious. “Thank you. You certainly didn’t have any obligation to do all this …” He gestured to the kitchen and the living room. “But you did it anyway and everything was great. He loved it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I whispered, returning my gaze to the sink before I sank into the depths of his warm eyes.

In silence, Tyler helped me organize the kitchen. We fell into an easy rhythm. I washed and he dried, and then put it away. After, he wiped the table, while I shook the tablecloth over the sink and folded it to be used tomorrow.

I washed the sink one last time and then reached behind me to untie the apron, but when I pulled on the ties, they got stuck. Biting my lower lip, I glanced to Tyler.

“Can you help me, please?”

Tyler, who had finished cleaning the table, and was now mindlessly looking out the window, glanced at my hands on my back.

“Sure.”

I turned my back to him, holding up the ties. He stood behind me and his fingertips brushed mine when he took the ties from me. I pulled my hands away and folded them over my stomach. I could feel his tall, strong body behind me, so, so close. I felt it when he lowered his head to work on the knot, putting his face, his forehead, so close to my exposed neck. I suppressed a shiver.

After a quick tug, the apron loosened around me.

“Done,” Tyler whispered, his breath tickling my neck.

This time, I did shiver.

I turned around and looked up at him. So, so close. “Thank you.”

His eyes were fixed on mine. So, so close. “You’re welcome.”

Neither of us moved for another long second. Then finally, Tyler stepped back and went back to the window.

I let out a long breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

I had been nervous about meeting Tyler’s father, but it had been a good night after all. And I deserved a little recompense. I found a bottle of my favorite wine in a corner of the pantry and opened it up.

“Want some?”

He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

I poured a glass for me and one for him. “Here,” I said, handing him a glass. Tired, I went to the couch where I sat down and lifted my feet on the coffee table.

Tyler leaned his back against the window and sipped from his wine. I tried thinking of something else, anything else, but with him standing there, turned to me, and with the intensity of the day, it was hard to come up with any other topic. Even though my curiosity was scratching at the surface, I wouldn’t give in to it and ask the millions of questions in my mind. He had thanked me for that earlier and I wouldn’t make him regret it.

Surprising me, Tyler spoke up.

“The first cancer appeared when I was seventeen. It was an early stage and small. The doctor removed it and did a few chemo sessions to make sure it hadn’t spread. Soon after, the doctor said he was all clear. Two years later, during a check-up, the doctor found out the cancer was back, and it was a little bigger this time. Dad was treated the same way. He had the tumor taken out and then did more chemo sessions. By then, he was already weak. It was hard to see him like that. Fortunately, a few months later, the doctor announced Dad was clear. However, I was more apprehensive this time. After all, he had said the same thing before and it didn’t work. Dad had check-ups every three months after that, and not even two years later, it was back. And I had known it would come back. I just … I can’t explain it. I knew it would be back.” He pushed off the window and halted behind the armchair beside the couch. He rested his free hand on the chair. “But this time the doctor said it was worse. It was bigger and the more aggressive kind. And from where it was located, he couldn’t remove it all. He said that we wouldn’t win this time. But I didn’t lose faith. I still haven’t. The doctor cut out part of the tumor and then Dad started aggressive chemotherapy and radiotherapy sessions. He has bad days and he has terrible days. That’s why he spends so much time at the hospital, because he needs extra care from nurses and he needs IVs and such, which would be even more expensive if done at home.”

He stopped talking and I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I can’t process all of this,” I confessed. If it was too much for me to assimilate, how could he live with it all?

“Well, at least now you know why the bills are so high. After battling this illness for so long, there was nothing we could do. I signed up for loan after loan to cover what insurance wouldn't and then we lost his insurance. I don't qualify for any more loans, and I just had to ignore the bills.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The grace period of one loan had just expired when you made me the offer. That was the first one I paid off … when you gave me the first third of the payment. Another one will expire soon.”

“Do you need me to give you the second third sooner?”

He shook his head. “No, I can manage with what I still have from the first one. Thanks, though.”

This was all just so terrible. Tyler had to deal with all of this alone. The emotional mixed with the financial weight had to be running him into the ground. How he was still going this strong was a mystery to me.

“I know …” I started, but then shut my mouth. I drank the rest of my wine in one big gulp, hoping the alcohol would have an instant effect so I could say what I wanted to say. “I know we’re in a pretend relationship, but since we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, I would like to think of you as a friend and I want you to think of me as a friend too. Friends talk to each other and they lean on each other. So, when you need to talk or you need another pillar to help you keep standing, I’m here.”

He stared at me for a long time, those intense eyes locked on mine. There was a new glint in them, something I couldn’t quite make out. “Thank you,” he finally said.

“Bom.” I pushed off the couch and stood. “I should go to bed too.” I walked to the hallway and turned into my bedroom.

“Wait,” Tyler whispered, catching up with me. “I … we …” He ran a hand through his hair. “Dad won’t buy it if we sleep in different rooms.”

“Oh.” My eyes widened. “Oh!” Heat crept over my face as his words sank in. “So, hm, you need to sleep in here.” After all, his bedroom was a facade. I had known that when buying the apartment, I hadn’t thought someone would be around to witness it.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“No, hm, it’s okay.”

“I’ll grab some extra blankets and sleep on the floor.”

My throat closed up. “Okay,” I croaked. “I’ll …” I pointed toward the bathroom. “I’ll go get changed in there.”

“Sure, sure,” he said. “I’m gonna go to my bedroom first, then come back with the blankets.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He retreated into the hallway and I let out a long breath.

My hands shook and my mind was a haze as I changed from my dress to the less skimpy pajama set I owned—shorts and a loose tee—brushed my teeth, and put on some face cream. When I came back to the bedroom, Tyler was—

His actions were completely erased from my mind as I took him in. Him. Without a shirt. Just some thin sleeping shorts. No shirt. A broad chest. Muscles. No shirt.

Meu Deus, he was ripped. I had seen it before, but it still boggled my mind how rock hard his abs and chest and shoulders and arms and—my mind became mush.

Tyler looked up and I averted my eyes. Swallowing hard, I thought back on what he was doing when I walked out of the bathroom. What was it? All I could remember was him and his n***d chest. Oh, sim, he had been folding the blankets on the floor at the foot of the bed, making a bed for himself.

My heart squeezed. As much as I didn’t like the idea of him sleeping on the floor, I also didn’t like the idea of offering for him to share my bed with me. I took up a lot of space. What if I rolled in the middle of the night and landed on him? On that n***d chest. No way.

But as I slipped under the covers in my bed, I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay there?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He made sure the bedroom’s door was closed, hit the light switch, and then lay in his makeshift bed. That wasn’t probably too comfortable, poor guy. “Just for the record, I like the idea of having you as a friend too.” A smile spread over my lips. In the dark, he cleared his throat. “Good night.”

“Good night,” I said, forcing my eyes closed before I spied on him.