He pauses at the door to my room, looking from my mattress on the floor to me. “Toni, why don't you have a bed frame?”
“I do,” I say dismissively, plopping onto my mattress.
“Is it invisible?” he asks, crossing his arms.
“Hiding.” I motion over my shoulder to the box in the corner. “I also have all the furniture a well-adjusted adult should own. It just happens to be in pieces.” I'm sure if I feltless like roadkill, I'd feel more shame at that statement, but I’m simply too tired to care.
Cillian rubs his beard. “Can you nap on the couch?” He asks, looking from the frame to the rest of the chaos of my bedroom.
“Why?”
“Yes or no.”
“Yes?”
He nods. “Good. Come on.”
“Why?” I ask, batting away his proffered hand.
“Because I'm gonna put your bed together.”
“No.” My whole body bristles at the thought. Letting him warm me up some soup and toss my trash was bad enough.
“Why not?”
“Because—” another coughing fit racks my body.
He disappears into the living room, reappearing with water in hand. I take it but don't thank him, still prickling at the idea of him assembling my long-ignored furniture. “Because I don't need you to.” I could take care of it, I just hadn't.
“Yes, I am aware you don't need me to do anything for you.” He holds his hand out once more, letting it hang. “If it makes you feel better, I like putting things together.”
“What are you, some kind of carpenter?”
“Technically, yes. I worked in construction for a while before taking over the bar.” I glare up at him, trying not to imagine him covered in sawdust. “But I'm guessing this is more of a hex wrench situation. Which I'm also proficient in.”
He meets my scowl, unfazed.
“You're not going to let it go, are you?”
“No.”
“Fine.” I take his hand, and he pulls me up and into him. He tilts my chin up. “Just the bed.”
“Sure.”
I want to keep pushing, but the soup and medicine have already begun combining forces, making my limbs and lids feel heavy. “You're the worst.”
“I know.” His lips tenderly brush over mine. “And just think, if I lose our bet, I'm only making my job harder in the long run.”
I roll my eyes to mask how the thought of my winning that bet feels a whole lot like losing. It wasn't like I knew what would come next. When I tried to think of a future outside of this place...
He tucks a wild curl behind my ear, “Lie down and I'll take care of this.”
“Can I at least move the laun?—”
“Antionette,” he takes my face between his broad palms, squishing my cheeks a bit, “you might be the most stubborn woman I have ever met, and that is saying something. Go. Lie. Down.”
It takes me about three minutes to fall asleep on the couch. Hard.
