Fulfillment Golland, M. (best classic literature TXT) 📖

“Nothing,” Idismissively answered.

“Alexis, don’tkeep things from me. Not where Gareth is concerned.”

I exhaled indefeat. “I told Sam about the DID and he is unhappy about it.”

“Fuck!” hesaid quietly as he looked up after Gareth.

I felt Ineeded to defend my actions and it annoyed me, but deep down I knewthis was not so black and white. “She had a right to know. It waskilling me.”

“You should’vetold me of your intentions first.”

“Bryce, I’venever run anything about my life past anyone for approval. I’m notabout to start doing it now.”

“Gareth’ssituation is complex. You know this,” he said with an irritatedsigh.

I turned andbegan to head toward the limo. “Of course I fucking know this. HaveI not just been having a conversation with Deirdre for the pasthour? That was probably one of the most complex situations I haveever found myself in.” I approached Danny who was waiting by theopen door, but turned back to face Bryce, lowering my voice.“Listen, I had to tell Sam. I would not have forgiven myself ifanything happened to her. And again, she had a right to know.” Igave him the end-of-story look before I awkwardly climbed into thelimo.

***

Things were alittle tense during the ride home. Gareth had stared out the windowand hastily left us when we arrived back at City Towers. Lucy andNic had focussed their attention on Alexander right before wedropped them off at their house. And Bryce had been quietlypondering but still tenderly touching some part of my body at alltimes, whether it was my shoulder, my arm, or my leg.

As soon as wewere back in the apartment, I got dressed in my gym attire as myphysiotherapist was due to make a house-call in a matter ofminutes. Bryce had made his way to his office, but not beforemaking me a heart-shaped sandwich and setting it on a plate in themiddle of the dining table. I smiled at his sentiment. Even in hisfrustration and sometimes anger toward me, he could still find away to let me know he loved me.

The buzzer tothe door sounded as I bit down into my sandwich-of-love. “Coming,”I muffled with a mouthful.

I grabbed mycrutches and headed for the door, opening it up to let in Tim, myphysiotherapist. I’d had a couple of sessions with him already andfound him really easy to get along with. He was also quite helpfuland extremely professional. Tim was in his mid to late twenties,tall, shoulder length caramel hair, dark brown eyes andathletically built. I’d also found out during our last session thathe had a fiancé and a two-year-old son.

“Hi, Tim. Comein.” I hopped backward, clearing the door way to let himthrough.

“So, how’s thefoot?”

“Good,although my upper thigh is tight and sore.”

“Yeah, thatwill happen. You’re no longer using those muscles like you shouldbe,” he explained as he made his way down into the lounge like hehad done last time. “I’m going to get you to start riding theexercise bike today, to build up strength in your leg muscles andto get your blood flowing properly again.”

He dropped hisbag on the floor and opened the bi-fold doors. “Come on, let’s getto it.”

I spentfifteen minutes on the bike on a low setting, then with Tim’sassistance and guidance, did some weights to strengthen my upperlegs. After that session was complete we went back inside.

“Now before Igo, I’ll get you to lie down on this mat here, and I’ll stretch outyour legs for you.”

Tim rolled outthe yoga style mat and helped me position myself on my back. Hekneeled down at my feet and took a hold of my foot, removing themoon boot. “Have you put any pressure on it yet?” he asked as hegently felt the tender area. Urgh! Stop touching my foot, I hateit. Why didn’t I break my finger, or nose even...okay, maybe notthe nose.

I winced. “No,not really.”

“Well thisweek, I want you to put a very small amount of weight on it acouple of times a day, but not enough so that it hurts. Pain is notgain in this situation.”

He shuffledforward, having one knee pushing against my arse and his other footout beside my body to steady himself—kind like he was about topropose. Then, lifting my leg into the air, he pushed his bodyagainst it, stretching my hamstring. “Feel the pulling?”

“Yep,” Istruggled to say, feeling the strain on my leg. I ignored thestretched ache of my muscles by continuing to talk. “So, how’s yourson?”

“Good,although he thinks his bedroom wall is a giant piece of paper,” heanswered with a roll of his eyes.

I laughed.“Tell your fiancé to get some ‘Magic Erasers’, they live up totheir name.”

“Sweet. Iwill.” He pushed my leg closer to my head just a little bit more.“You feel that? Is it a good stretch?”

“Yeah,” Iawkwardly mumbled again.

Just as Ianswered, Bryce stepped out from behind Tim, his hands in his pantsuit pockets.

“Hi,” Igroaned, while straining as my leg was pushed into my abdomen,making it difficult to speak.

“Hi,” heanswered sternly while holding his hand out to Tim and introducinghimself, “Bryce Clark, Alexis’ partner.”

Tim let go ofmy leg but pushed his body harder into me so as to not lose thetension in my stretch. He reached his now free hand out to shakeBryce’s. “Tim,” he answered as he gripped Bryce’s hand. “Alexis’physiotherapist.”

I noticedBryce’s eye twitch as he looked down at our position on the floor.He’s jealous. My Mr. Possessive Clark is jealous. Thenagain, I wouldn’t blame him. If Tim and I weren’t wearing clothesor on the floor for the sole purpose of stretching, one could thinkwe were attempting the art of Kama Sutra. Hmmm Kama Sutra andBryce all mixed together in a big ball of sexual Play-doh. I musttry that.

I smiled up athim, letting him know I was aware of his unease. I didn’t do it torub salt into his wounds. I did it to reassure him that everythingwas fine and that I felt his jealously was cute. He didn’t see thatmeaning behind my smile and glared at me.

Bryce took aseat on the sofa in his sexy, laid back couch position, with onearm stretched out across the back of the seat and his