And for the first time in days, I didn't dread what the next hour would bring.
We lay like that forever.
Or at least until my stomach growled again. Emma jerked upright.
I gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry..."
She bolted from the bed.
"That's it," she announced, yanking open a drawer. "We're getting up."
"Look at you, using your big girl—" A pair of my pajama pants hit me square in the face.
Point taken.
With an overly dramatic groan, I dragged myself from the bed. "What's the plan, Drill Sergeant?"
"You're going to eat," she snapped, covering her body in a nightdress.
I let my disapproval of the fabric show, but obeyed—sliding into the pants and following her from the room. Her feet slapped against the floor ahead of me, quick and light. Like a duckling on a mission.
But she didn't head toward the kitchen—instead, the couch, landing on a cushion with my phone already in hand.
"I thought we were eating?"
"We are," she answered, the screen illuminating her face. "I'm ordering Lucio's."
My stomach growled—a trained dog.
"Nice. I want the—"
"I know," she cut me off. "A medium Sicilian."
I nodded in approval, taking my seat beside her and slinging an arm around her shoulders.
She had Lucio's number pulled up before I'd even sat down. The moment she tapped call, I snatched the phone back.
She gave me an affronted look.
"Damien! I'm glad to know you're still kicking. We missed you this week." Lucio's parmesan-crusted voice came through the line.
"Yeah, sorry," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "This week's been a bit rough."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?"
"A couple of pizzas would be fantastic," I responded.
"A couple? Is that young lady with you again?"
I turned to smile at her, her brows knitting in confusion. "Right beside me."
"She's a lucky gal."
I shook my head. "Making it weird, Lucio."
A warm chuckle filled the speaker, and I couldn't help grinning.
"She'll have a cheese pizza, please." I paused, enjoying the confusion on her face. "Make that extra cheese."
