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She’s still got the bra on, though, and while it’s probably not all that comfortable for sleeping, there’s no way I’m tackling its removal.
Charlotte rolls onto her side, facing me. I pull the duvet up over her shoulder and tuck it in around her legs.
Okay. Now there are some practical things she needs. I drape the skirt over the arm of the sofa, take the two steps to the kitchen and start opening cabinet doors. It doesn’t look like she’s going to enter round three of barfing, but I want to leave some sort of puke-catching receptacle beside her just in case. And definitely a glass of water.
The only trash can in the place seems to be the one screwed inside the cabinet under the sink. But it’s not like there’s a mass of kitchen cabinets to rifle through, and the last one I open produces a large blue plastic bowl with “popcorn” written all around the sides. That’ll have to do.
I grab a glass from the shelf over the sink and fill it with cold water.
“Here you go.” I put the glass on her nightstand and the bowl on the floor next to the bed. “Oh, actually, one more thing.”
I turn to the sofa where I’d dropped her bag earlier, pull out her phone, and place it next to the water.
Crouching down beside her face, I pull the duvet higher, tucking it under her chin so she’s fully cozy. “I’ll draw the blinds and leave you to sleep.” I whisper. “But your phone’s right here. If you need anything, call me.”
Her head nods slightly against the pillow.
“Understand?” She might be so close to sleep she’s not grasped it. “Call me. Any time.”
As her eyelids drift halfway open, a hand emerges from under the covers and grabs my lapel.
“Thank you,” she mutters.
She pulls on my jacket, tugging me toward her with a strength I didn’t think she’d have right now. She yanks me so close our noses almost touch.
My heart judders and beats faster, the proximity of our faces too much for it to deal with.
Her eyes are almost fully open now, but glazed, like she’s still not altogether with it.
“You’re very kind,” she says. “And caring.”
There is truly nothing better she could have said. Almost four years I’ve known Charlotte, but perhaps it’s only right now, in this strange moment, when she’s not quite conscious, that she might see who I really am.
Her breath reeks, though. But she can’t help that, so I fight the instinct to screw up my nose.
“You’re welcome.” I stroke her shoulder over the duvet. “Just want you to feel better.”
“And you have nice arms.” She lets go of my jacket and pats me deliberately on the chest, like an uncoordinated drunk person who’s concentrating hard to hit their target.
I suppress a chuckle at how cute it is she’s telling me that for the second time. “Thank you.”
But I can’t suppress my heart stepping up the pace for its own reasons. If she’s said it twice in one evening, when she’s completely uninhibited, it must be what she genuinely thinks, right? And has possibly thought for a while?
Well, thank goodness for the chicken dumplings then, or I would never have known there’s a part of me she finds attractive.
I run my hand over her hair and cup the back of her head. This might be the one and only chance I ever get to do that. “You have nice arms too.”
As I start to straighten, she grabs my sleeve and pulls me back down. I have to brace myself on the bed to prevent myself falling on top of her.
She opens her eyes as wide as is probably possible in the current circumstances and looks right into mine. “Would you stay with me?”
Her words halt my breath. Stay with her? She must be even more out of it than I thought.
“Just till I’m asleep?” she adds.
My chest could burst with everything that little sentence means. She trusts me. She wants me with her. She’s allowing me to take care of her. To watch over her.
“Of course.” I stroke her head again. “Of course I will.”
