He raised an eyebrow and picked up his phone. "I’ll add a white mocha to the order."
“Thanks, babe.” I closed the cabinet and poured hot water into my bowl of oatmeal. “You’re the best.”
He winked and placed the order before getting back to work. It was fascinating to watch him when he was working. He could switch between serious banker chasing down every last penny to concerned citizen out to help the little guy catch a break. And I could usually tell which mode he was in just by the furrow in his brow. It was adorable.
My gaze didn’t leave his face until my bowl was empty, and I couldn’t put off work any longer. “I’m gonna go change and wait for my coffee.”
He looked at me and smirked. “You mean you’re not gonna wear that ratty old hoodie to work?”
"I'm riding in today." I pushed off the counter and started to walk toward the bedroom to find my cycling clothes. My bike had been sitting in the corner of my apartment gathering dust for years because I was always too tired or too congested to wantto ride it. But neither of those things had been a problem since I started drinking Ozzie’s milk on a daily basis. My sinuses had been clear for a while, and I was waking up with more energy than I knew what to do with.
"I better not see any new scrapes on your elbows." He looked up from the screen and waited for me to come up with a good excuse.
I didn’t have one, but I tried anyway. "That wasn’t my fault. A cat jumped right in front of me. Would you rather I had run it over?"
He smirked. "I’d rather you not fall off your bike in the middle of the road and come home bleeding..."
“Meh. That kind of bleeding is fine. If it’s drawn as the result of saving a kitty, it doesn’t count.” I ran the rest of the way so I couldn’t hear his lecture. He didn’t do it often, but when he got the slightest hint that I wasn’t making my personal health and safety a top priority, he got grumpy. A sweet kind of grumpy.
A while later, I came back just as the doorbell rang with our delivery. I grabbed the bag from the grocery store but focused on the little bag from the coffee shop two doors down. They had the best mocha with chocolate shavings on top, and when I peeked in the bag, there was a cat-shaped cake pop in there too.
“You got me a kitty cake?” I pulled it out and held it up after putting the groceries down.
He shrugged. “It’s no Ding Dong, but I know you like them.”
“I love them.” I wrapped my arms around Ozzie’s neck and gave him a big kiss. “And I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He took a sip of my mocha and then handed me the cup. “Do you want to put this in a travel mug so you can take it with you?”
I glanced at the clock as I took a drink. “Oooh, yeah. I should probably get going.” I pulled out a travel mug from his cabinet and transferred my drink into it. “I’ll be home by five thirty.”
He stood up and pulled me in for another kiss. "Have a good ride, sweetheart. And be careful."
Ozzie's kitchen was better stocked than mine and we both knew it, so we cooked there most nights. He had actual spices in labeled jars that he'd bought on purpose and not just a drawer of chili flakes and parmesan that I saved from pizza deliveries.
Most nights, I stood at his counter and handed him things, pretending I was helping when I was mostly just admiring him. That was my favorite thing to do. Well, second favorite. Okay, third. Definitely my third favorite thing to do.
"You could actually chop that instead of just holding it." He nodded toward the onion I was holding.
"I'm a moral-support chef." I set the onion down and hopped up onto the counter to sit. “My skills aren’t optimized for preparing the food. I’m really much better at ingesting it.”
He chuckled. “Yes, I’ve noticed.”
I sat on his counter and watched him cook for me because he wanted to. He liked providing me with nourishment and healthy food. Food made with love.
He nourished me in every way. Mind, body, and soul. Even his milk was literally healing for me. During the day, I had more energy than I’d had since grade school. And I was sleeping through the night. No nightmares. No tossing and turning. No cold sweats.
Just safe arms caging me against a delicious chest.
And things seemed to be better for Ozzie too. He hadn't touched the pump in a while. His body had adjusted to my needs, and now he never leaked or felt pressure. He just produced what I needed from him. Not too much and not too little. It was like he was made to nourish me in every way.
Some nights we watched TV together and fell asleep on the couch, and some nights, we stayed up too late talking about nothing because neither of us wanted to stop. And that was exactly as amazing as it sounded.
One night, while we were curled up in bed, I had an epiphany. "I can't remember what I did before this.”
The lights were off and he was rubbing my head. "Before what?"
"This." I shifted so I could look up at him even though it was dark. "You. All of it."
