I took the mug in my hands, embracing the warmth it provided.
“I heard black coffee can be good after an asthma attack,” he said as he sat next to me on the couch.
“You heard?”
“Well, I read it online.” He cut into his toast. “It can relax airways and reduce inflammation in your lungs.”
I paused before I could even cut into my breakfast. “You researched asthma?”
“Of course.” He acted like it was no big deal. And maybe it wasn’t. Asthma wasn’t a super rare condition by any means, but most people didn’t learn about management beyond an inhaler.
I blurted out, “I’m sorry.”
His brows furrowed in confusion. “For what?”
“For…that.” I gestured vaguely. “For having a full-blown asthma attack literally hours after sleeping together for the first time.”
Noah shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but…” I trailed off, trying to find the right words. “I feel like I ruined the moment.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. Last night was amazing and so is this morning. Your asthma attack didn’t change anything for me, except that now I want to be here for you even more.”
A sense of relief washed over me, mingled with a deep affection.
I looked down at my plate, the French toast suddenly seeming more appetizing. I shoved a piece into my mouth. Slightly burnt on the edges, but it tasted good all the same. “I’m just not used to people being around when it happens.”
“Get used to it, Scribbles,” Noah said, voice teasing. “Do you have a spare inhaler?”
“I have one somewhere in my room.”
“Maybe we should keep one here, or I could carry one with me. Just in case.” My face must have echoed the surprise I felt because he rushed to continue. “I know you’re usually prepared, but if something happens and you don’t have it, I’d like to be able to help.”
A lump formed in my throat. No one had ever offered to do something like that for me before.
Part of me wanted to protest, but I shoved that part of me down in favor of moving us forward. Any instinct I had to deny his request wasn’t about needing help. It was about letting someone in again.
“Okay.” I smiled. “I’d like that. But…”
“But?”
“I hate black coffee.” I held my mug out toward him. “Do you have any sugar?”
His laugh echoed across the apartment, but he brought me a few sugar packets without complaint.
It tasted much better now. “Did you even post the Stories from Sushi Nirvana?”
Noah cursed under his breath and reached for his phone. “I knew I forgot something. Sushi sneak peek, yada yada.”
The sugar in the coffee and the breakfast were working their magic. I knew Noah had attempted to cook us something healthy before he ruined the dish. In my opinion, it was a sign from the universe to stick with delicious, non-healthy breakfasts.
“You are a terrible influencer,” I said. “How do you get away with so much?”
He shrugged, eyes trained on his phone. “I pay my manager a lot of money.”
“Does he know about the fake dating?”
Noah’s torso stiffened, but he continued swiping through his photos. He posted a selfie he took of us when we first walked in. “No, he doesn’t.”
