While he disappeared into the kitchen, I rolled onto my back, stretching out like a lazy cat. Every inch of me felt used up in the best way. Spent, but not empty. Worn down, but cared for.
Rafael returned with two mugs. One had a cartoon bear scowling into a mug of coffee. Mine, obviously.
I sat up enough to take it and sipped gratefully. Chamomile and honey. Of course he remembered.
I set the mug down on the table and leaned back again, sighing as I rubbed one sore foot against the opposite ankle.
Rafael glanced down. “They really hurting?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but it’s fine. Occupational hazard.”
Without saying anything else, he crouched in front of the couch and gently lifted one of my feet into his lap.
“Wait, what are you—” I blinked as his warm hands wrapped around my ankle, then began kneading the arch of my foot with steady, careful pressure.
“Oh my god,” I groaned. “You’re hired.”
“Thought your feet went on strike,” he joked.
“They’ve rescinded the paperwork.”
He chuckled, thumbs pressing into a spot that had me melting into the cushions. “How long have they been this tight?”
“Since the holiday rush. Possibly forever,” I admitted.
“You work too hard,” he pointed out.
“Says the guy who just threatened a loan shark.”
“I don’t do it in adorable aprons,” he countered.
I laughed, my head tipping back as his thumbs worked slow, delicious circles. The tension in my calves, my arches, even my toes began to melt away.
His touch was confident but gentle, not clinical. Intimate, even. Like he was pouring every ounce of care he had into this moment, into me.
He picked up my other foot and started again, just as thorough.
My breath caught when he pressed into the ball of my foot and then slid his fingers down with a rhythm that made heat coil in my gut.
“You keep that up and I’m gonna fall in love with you,” I murmured, only half joking.
He didn’t stop. Just looked up at me, slow and steady. “Then I’ll keep going.”
My chest did that fluttery thing it sometimes did when he looked at me like I was the most important thing in the room.
“I already do, you know,” I said softly, heart hammering. “Love you.”
His hands paused for just a beat, then resumed, slower now. Reverent.
“I know,” he said, voice rough around the edges. “I love you too.”
Silence stretched between us, not awkward. Just full. Full of everything we didn’t need to say because we already knew.
Eventually, he set my feet down and rose, sitting beside me. I didn’t hesitate. I curled into him, tucked my head against his chest, and let him hold me.
His hand smoothed over my hair. “Better?”
“Way better,” I said, already half asleep.
