(I knew this was coming. If I make dates with the fairy boys Caleb always gets riled.)
I worked my ass off this morning one-handing my chores. Not because they put my name back into the rotation but because I am stubborn and I felt like I should just do my part even though if anyone else has a broken anything I will wait on them, spoil them, sign them off on anything more troubling than breathing until they are healed with a rehabilitation window and then ease them back in. If it's me than I will slide a big ziploc bag over my whole hand and just do whatever I would have been doing, had this not happened.
And I am getting annoyed. My skin crawls. It's hot. Casts are horrible. I feel like it's melting. It never dries inside. It smells very bad. It looks ragged and hilarious. Apparently if it gets bad enough condition-wise it will be replaced and so after dinner I'm going to get them to run over it with trucks.
But first? Ice cream.
Caleb blocked the whole hallway and asked if I wanted to do an ice cream run. Is the sky blue? Hell yes I want to do an ice cream run. I've never said no. Actually, I have quite a few times but a perfectly warm sunny day with no plans and all my chores done just screams ice cream to me.
Caleb got peach and I got coffee. Sugar cones. Extra sprinkles. They were melting before we could eat them and it was so good. I love those spontaneous lunches somewhere out of the way.
It comes with a price, like all nice things.
Is Schuyler a checkmate?
No. Not at all.
Is Daniel?
Of course not.
They're taking all of your free time as of late. You're back to avoiding me.
Yes, as soon as I finish having ice cream with you I can get right back to ignoring you.
And so I'm going to make an offer and I'd like it if you just take it with you and consider it. Don't tell me yes or no for a week and then you can decide after you take your time. Is that fair?
Yes, but if it's too outlandish don't expect a yes, Diabh-
Humour me.
Of course.
Seven days.
I turn around looking for a girl climbing out of a well. Sorry? Seven days what?
I'd like to book a week's holiday with you.
Where?
Maybe just Whistler. Maybe the Gwaii. We'll figure that out shortly but it will be a private week for two. All pampering. All luxury. Just you and me. As much sleep and swimming as you want. Whatever you want to eat. Just time we can spend together. I'd like to make it an annual thing.
Okay.
So let me know next Thursday or even Friday and we can decide where or you can tell me if that's too long or-
Diabhal.
Mmm?
I said okay.
You did.
I did.
Damn. I need to make some calls. Any dealbreakers?
No helicopter rides, no shellfish-only menus.
That's so easy, Bridge.
No heat.
I got you.
For a week anyway. Wait, when?
Mid-September? How does that sound?
Perfect. I have no plans other than spending time with you.
I get a gentle, almost-timid kiss and he is off the ground, flying along a million feet up. You made my day, Neamhchiontach.
Thank you for the ice cream.
Thank you for the company.
There is ice cream on the cast now. Sigh.