Page 30 of Graciously His

Shep chooses that moment to give me a sloppy kiss. I pat his head, then go about making some fresh eggs in a clean pan. The familiar motions of flipping and frying help me to give Grace a moment of distance. I want her to keep the feeling of safety and sweetness Shep gave her, and I need to ensure a good breakfast to start her day.

“Is the whole kitchen gluten free?” she asks. I turn to find that she’s taken a seat on a stool, her chin on her clasped hands. Up close, her eyes are puffy.

“Of course.” I retrieve a gel pack from the freezer, which I wrap in a towel and hand over. “For your eyes, Grace.”

She takes it with an impatient huff. “You’re going to make me ask, eh? Fine. Why is your kitchen ‘of course’ gluten free, Nate? Are you gluten intolerant?”

I put some gluten-free bread into the toaster.

“Not really, but I prefer to keep things the way they should be—for you.”

Her answer is incredulous. “Even though you didn’t know I was coming to stay here?”

“You were always going to come here.” I plate the eggs and toast. “Now, let’s have some breakfast and we can discuss next steps for today.”

She digs in hungrily, and I suppress a smile at seeing her eat her first meal in our house.

“What about Shep?” she asks between bites.

“He only gets one meal a day, so I’ll consider this morning’s half-breakfast a bonus for keeping you company.”

She sends the dog a smile. “He is good company.”

I resolve to give the lug an extra scoop of food and an extra walk; Shep alone might have stopped Grace from leaving this morning.

She looks at me from across the counter. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I’m a one-meal-a-day guy, too.”

“Why on earth would you only eat one meal a day?”

“Well, our doctor recommended it, for one. For two, the results have been excellent. Clarity of mind, easier workouts, and less time spent cooking.”

She mulls that over while I get her a short glass of orange juice, a tall glass of water, and start the espresso machine.

“Our doctor?” she asks, stressing the pronoun.

“Yes, ours. Your first video appointment will be this afternoon, which was the soonest Eileen—Doctor Gowan, that is—could squeeze you in. It’ll take an hour, maybe two. You’ll love her.”

“You made me a doctor’s appointment with some doctor I’ve never met?”

“It’s a video call, and yes. You haven’t met her, but she knows quite a bit about you.”

Grace puts her fork down and pushes the plate to the side, frowning. I pretend not to notice, flicking through notifications on my phone.

“And—wouldn’t you know?—your bullet journal will be here just before noon. You’ll have it in time for your chat with Eileen.”

“I don’t need a new doctor. And it’s weird that you talked to her about me.”

“She’s an integrative specialist, which means she asks about all the important aspects of my life. It would have been weird if I hadn’t told Eileen about you, Grace.”

“So, what, you sent her my medical records?” Her cheeks flush. “You know that’s an invasion of privacy, Nate!”

“This is ground we’ve already covered, love.”

I put my phone away and walk around the kitchen island. Grace slides off the stool, putting it between us.

Cute.