“Details.”
“My knee still hurts. Physical therapy is a pain in the ass. And Raphael—” I paused, trying to choose a word that wouldn’t betray too much.
“Yes?” she pressed.
“He’s been . . . amazing.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end.
“Define amazing.”
“He color-coded my therapy exercises.”
“What?”
The disbelief filled her voice. If I hadn’t witnessed it myself, I’m not sure I would have believed it either.
“He read my discharge papers twice.”
“Wow. Raphael Renault. Who knew?”
“And last night I fell asleep on his shoulder.”
The silence this time was longer.
“You what?”
“We were on the couch,” I rushed. “Talking. About nothing and everything. And I just—” I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “I guess I was tired. I woke up, and he hadn’t moved.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “Oh.”
I stared out the kitchen window toward the river bluff.
It had felt so natural. Warm. Safe. His arm, solid around me, like he’d been built to anchor things.
“And this is still crazy. “ I said, shaking off that warm feeling taking hold inside of me. “I married him for insurance. It’s not real.”
There was a pause.
“But it's starting to feel real,” she said gently.
I swallowed.
“No,” I whispered. “Maybe . . . a little.”
I wasn’t ready to say it louder than that. Not yet.
El let that sit for a moment before her voice brightened again.
“Okay. Enough of that. Are you by chance working in your second office today?”
“At the coffee shop?”
“Yeah. James texted. Apparently, someone called out. He asked if I was up to cover a short shift until someone else could come in.”
There was immediate concern in her voice. “Belle, are you up for that?”
“I’ll be fine. It’s only a few hours.”
