Her eyes widened. “No,” she said immediately.
“Why not?”
“Just no. That one is not . . .foryou.”
“Notforme?”
“You don’t appreciate it properly.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No. Also, you can’t afford it.”
“One day I’ll be able to afford it—” A cough interrupted his words.
“I really don’t like the sound of that cough.”
“It’ll be gone tomorrow.” As he shifted to rise, his elbow collided with the jar on the nearby block and sent it flying. His hand shot out and he caught it in midair.
Remy gasped.
Gently, he replaced the jar.
“Your reflexes,” Remy said, “are incredibly fast.”
“Are they?”
“Yes.”
“What is your background?” she wondered out loud.
“I wish I knew.”
The next day Jonah’s cough wasn’t gone.
In fact, as Remy sat across from him at the breakfast table eating an egg’wich while he ate oatmeal, she noted that in addition to the cough, he looked flushed. It was chilly inside this morning, but he wore only a T-shirt and joggers. “Feeling all right?”
“Fine.” He nudged his chin toward her coffee table. “How come you haven’t added on to your puzzle lately? It’s been at that stage since I got here.”
She waved a hand. “I haven’t added to it in more than a year.”
“And the knitting?”
“Two years. Maybe three.”
“The stand mixer in the kitchen? The one painted wall in the bathroom?”
She took a sip of coffee. “I can become very . . .devotedto a project. Sometimes I stay devoted long-term. Like with my work. Or reading. Other times, I only stay devoted for a little while before losing interest.”
He turned to the side, coughing.
Fear turned the coffee in her stomach to ice. “I’m going to take your temperature.”
“No need.”
Despite his words, she retrieved the thermometer and ran it across his forehead. Her heart dropped like a rock when she saw the read-out. “Ninety-nine.”
“You look upset but that’s in the normal range.”
