“You’re warm.”
“You used to complain about that.”
“Your feet are cold.”
I smiled into his hair. “So I’m told.”
The brace kept him from wrapping both arms around me, but his right hand flattened against my back.
He breathed in.
Then slowly out.
“You make the room stop moving.”
“I have you.”
“I know.”
His weight grew heavier.
“You’re falling asleep on your feet.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Date tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t cancel.”
“I won’t.”
“Even if I feel terrible.”
“Then the date involves blankets and silence.”
He smiled against my chest.
“Good.”
I helped him into the chair, then through the evening routine and into the bedroom.
Marlowe claimed his place at the foot of the bed.
I arranged Noah’s pillows, checked the water glass, put his phone within reach, and switched on the old green lamp in the hall.
Then I went to the spare room for my pillow.
When I returned, Noah watched me place it on my side of the bed.
“You came back.”
“I said I would.”
I changed in the bathroom and returned in sleep pants and a T-shirt.
