“A mug.”
I pointed to the cupboard above the coffee maker, and he pulled two out, pouring us each a cup.
I finished my email and hit send, then placed my phone on the counter. “I feel fine,” I said. “I’m sorr—”
“Don’t,” he said, stopping my words short. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
I sighed, not sure that was true but too tired to argue. “I need to call the doctor.”
“The doctor?”
“About my mom’s fall last night.” I plucked a pen from the junk drawer and wrote a note on the pad I kept on the counter for when I had thoughts like that. “When the office opens. Ugh. I wish I could go down to LA for the weekend. I need to do inventory and analyze the space again.” Maybe being there would inspire ways to give it more personality.
“Your mind never shuts off, does it?” he asked.
“It did for a little while last night.”
“When?” he asked, pretending not to know what I meant. He lifted the mug of coffee. “Do you take cream or sugar?”
I nodded, opening the fridge and retrieving the vanilla creamer. I moved to his side and poured until the coffee was a light brown instead of black. I held out the bottle for him, and he did the same.
“How about a do-over?” he said. “My place? Tonight?”
“I…” I carried the mug to the table, sitting down there. “I can’t leave her alone after what happened. I’ll… I can’t.”
He joined me.
“I mean,” I continued, “if I schedule Lucy from the home health facility or maybe during the day when she’s…” I trailed off. I knew I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving again until she saw the doctor.
He put his hand over mine. “I get it. Don’t worry. There will be time.”
I nodded and pinched the bridge of my nose. Would there be time?
“Come here.” He pulled me by the hand onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck, resting my cheek against his head. The tension in my shoulders seemed to pour down my spine until I felt like a puddle in his arms.
I wiggled in his lap, rubbing my ass along his groin.
He chuckled and squeezed my sides. “Are you hungry?”
“Hungry?” I shifted, attempting to straddle him and doing a very poor job. He must’ve sensed my goal because he assisted me in the process, moving my leg into place.
“I can go pick up some food,” he said while I kissed his neck and then cheek.
“Some food?” I asked, moving my mouth to his, running my tongue along his lips.
“Your attempts to make my questions euphemisms are not working.”
“They feel like they’re working,” I said, pressing myself against his erection.
“Your body on me is definitely working, but my words are not sexy.”
I laughed. It had been a while since I felt this light. The power of a good cry, probably. Or maybe this man. Yes, that was likely the reason, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I didn’t like my emotions to be dependent on anyone, let alone a man. But that was a weakness, I reminded myself. One that needed to change.
“Areyouhungry?” I asked, still kissing him.
“See, now I’m confused, because I don’t know if you mean this”—he palmed my breast—“or actual food.”
I smiled. “I think we have eggs. I can make eggs.”
