It’s intoxicating.
Or maybe it was the hit to my head?
I swallow the pills while he fills my plate with my favorite breakfast combination. Cheesy scrambled eggs, hash browns, and crispy bacon.
“Eat up, Clover. You missed dinner last night.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice, because he’s right. I haven’t eaten since yesterday's breakfast. I’m starving.
I take a bite of my eggs and hum with pleasure. “They’re perfect.”
“I’m glad. I tried to remember your usual order at Gracie’s.” He stops in the middle of the kitchen. “Shit, another Gracie.” He smiles.
He’s referring to the Gracie who owns a cafe on Main Street and my brother's new daughter.
“Have you ever seen anything as cute as that baby girl?” he swoons. “Cal and Charlie did so damn good.”
This man is killing me. The fluttering in my stomach proves it’s not safe to be exposed to this much of the sweet, domestic, baby-crazy side of the bane of my existence.
“They did,” I say, before taking a bite of nearly burnt bacon. It crumbles in my mouth, eliciting another hum.
His chest lifts with a chuckle. He moves some dishes to the sink before taking the seat next to mine.
“I would have brought this to you, you know?”
“As nice as breakfast in bed sounds, I needed to move. And I need to figure out how to walk in this stupid boot.”
“I’ve been there. It’s strange at first, but once you figure it out, you’ll wonder why it seemed so difficult at the start. At least that’s how it was for me when I ruptured my Achilles.”
“I hope that moment comes sooner rather than later.”
“Well, you won’t be doing much walking the next few days. You need to rest. Doctor's orders.”
“Good thing you go back to work tomorrow then. I won’t have a babysitter keeping me down.”
“I took the week off.”
Choking on my hash browns, I take a sip of my juice to clear my airway. “You what?”
He chuckles under his breath.
“Have you lost comprehension of the English language? I know the hit to your head was hard, but this is a strange side-effect.”
“Shut up. Why did you take the week off?”
“To take care of you.”
“You didn’t need to do that. You can take me home after breakfast. I’m happy to get out of your hair. But not before I eat this bacon.”
“It’s not too burnt?”
“It’s perfect. I can’t believe you remembered.”
He rolls his eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.”
This is his usual comment when I say something he deems obvious or below my intellect.
“Seriously, I don’t want to be a burden. I’m happy to go home, and I promise to rest.”
