“That’s my good boy,” I mutter between heaving breaths, wiping the sweat from his brow with my fingertips and giving him a long, slow kiss.
His arms wrap tight around me, pulling my head to rest on his chest. The steady percussion against my ear has me drifting in and out of consciousness, spent from the long day and perfectly sated by him. He presses his lips to my hair, mumbling something about ice cream that I’m too exhausted to catch.
“Bear,” he nudges my shoulder. “Let’s go get you cleaned up and ready for bed.”
“Can’t move,” I grumble.
He slips out from under me, then scoops my body into his arms and starts to lift me from the bed—clearly struggling, but trying to pass it off like he’s fine.
I shriek, flinging my arms around his neck. “Stop, you’re going to throw out your back or something.”
“Just…let me…carry you.” He heaves me upward, and my life flashes before my eyes for a second when I’m momentarily suspended in the air. Then I’m clinging to him, and he’s grinning. “See. It’s fine. I lift heavier things than you all the time.”
“Bullshit.I probably weigh as much as you do. Let me try to Bambi my way to the bathroom on these shaky legs.”
He takes a couple shuffling steps across the small room, teetering with each one. “Just sit back and be impressed by how strong your man is.”
My lips roll together, reining in a laugh. “Very strong. So impressive. Please stop before you hurt yourself.”
“Baby, let me take care of you.” He stops outside of the bathroom, considering how he’ll fit both of our bodies through the narrow doorway.
“Unless your plan is to take care of me while I’m bedridden with broken bones, let me down.” I scrub a hand across his jaw and kiss the short stubble. “You’re already doing enough to care for me.”
With a sigh, he slowly lowers my legs until the soles of my feet are firmly on the cold bathroom tile. Then I sit on the edge of the tub—at his insistence—and let him meticulously clean my skin with a warm washcloth.
We share sleepy, loving glances in the bathroom mirror as we go through our bedtime routines. And I can’t help but picture how perfect life would be if every night was spent getting ready for bed encased in the comfort that comes from a gentle pat on the butt, or a raking of fingers through hair, or a wink in the mirror. Having the love of my life stand next to me at the bathroom sink, with a drowsy smile while we brush our teeth, is a fairy tale.
Both too tired for ice cream, we groggily crawl into bed and fall asleep tangled in each other’s arms.
—
The next morning, I wake up to find Denver sitting in wait with a pint of ice cream and two spoons. His smile’s brighter than the sun pouring in through an easterly-facing window.
“Little early for ice cream, isn’t it?” I yawn, squinting at him with hazy vision.
“Ice cream for breakfast is one of the only perks to being an adult. Live a little, Hart.” He hands me a spoon, and cracks the lid off the tub while I sit up.
Honestly, I feel so drained and parched and the most relaxed I’ve ever been, ice cream for breakfast makes sense. I hold a spoon heaping with strawberry ice cream in my mouth, letting it slowly melt all over my tongue, and my head falls to rest on his shoulder.
“You good after last night?”
I’m deliciously sore, and overwhelmingly content. “Perfect.”
“Blair, you’re everything to me,” he whispers, his lips brushing my hairline.
I lick my lips, pulling the spoon slowly from my mouth, considering biting the bullet and telling this man, with no uncertainty, how in love with him I am. Lay it all out in front of us like a picnic. Admit to myself that it was silly to think for a single second we could take things slow.
But an obnoxious sound blares from his phone, making us both jump out of our delicious stupor.
“Oh, see.Thisis why I set the alarm.” He hands me the tub of ice cream and slips out from under the thin sheets. Once the alarm’s shut off, the room falls silent, and he looks at me. “Where are your meds? In the end pocket here?”
Immediately he starts rummaging, turning up with my antidepressants in hand before I even have the chance to tell him where they are.
“What…” I start to ask a question, but I don’t even know what to ask, honestly. “Do you have an alarm for my pill?”
“Just one more thing I figured I can take off your plate.Obviously, I can’t take them myself. But I can make sure you do.” He thoughtfully reads the label, then cautiously pours a single white tablet into his hand. “I didn’t see any other pill bottles there, but if you have something else you need to take, I’ll grab it.”
“N-no. Just this one.” The way he’s so nonchalant makes my heart skip a beat. I lick my lips, slowly reaching for the pill. “Is it, um, weird to you that I take these?”
