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Red nose.
Oversized sweatshirt.
Glasses.
My heart does something embarrassingly painful.
She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
Her eyes narrow.
“What are you doing here?”
“You're sick.”
“I have a cold.”
“I brought soup.”
Her gaze drops.
“And apparently, a pharmacy.”
“I like contingencies.”
“You're insane.”
“I've been told.”
She sniffles.
I want to kiss her.
I want to pick her up, carry her to bed, tuck her beneath the covers, and stay until she feels better.
I do none of those things.
That's the point, I'm finally learning.
“I won't come in unless you want me to.”
That surprises her.
“I just wanted to bring you this.”
“Mitchell—”
“No pressure.”
I hold out the bag.
“No contract.”
Her eyes flick to mine.
“No expectations.”
Something in her expression shifts.
