Page 131 of What About Us

“Hi, baby,” he says softly and leans in to kiss my lips. “Come on, let’s get you fed.”

“Okay.”

My voice sounds so small, even to my own ears, and I follow him up to the house.

“You’re not wearing shoes,” I say as he holds the door open for me. “It’s too cold for that.”

“I’ll be fine. I live my life on ice, remember?” He turns to walk deeper into the house, but I tug on his hand, and when he turns to me, I walk into him, press my face to his chest, and hold on tight. “Hey. Hey, I’m right here.”

With a deep inhale, I breathe him in and let it settle my rough edges.

“I’m so sorry you had a rough day,” he says against my head before pressing a kiss to my crown. “How can I help?”

“You’re doing it,” I reply. “Okay, I’ll eat now.”

He kisses me once more and then simply lifts me in his arms, and I don’t fight him or tell him he shouldn’t carry me.

I bury my face in his neck and wrap my legs around his waist and hold on as he walks easily through the house and then deposits me on a stool at the island.

“Cassie made the lasagna, and it smells fucking good,” he says as he pulls a deep baking dish out of the oven, sets it on the stovetop, and then dives back in for what looks like garlic bread. “There’s salad too.”

“Just lasagna and bread for me,” I tell him. “I want carbs.”

“I know it’s been a shit day when you request carbs, so what happened and who do I have to annihilate?”

I smile softly. “It was back to back all day. Hip replacement that was tricky, pneumonia patient that I had to work on breathing with, a baby with a broken shoulder, and I don’t want to know how it got that fracture.”

He frowns as he passes me the plate and then leans on the counter. “Do you think a parent did it?”

“Probably.” I cut a bite with my fork, blow on it, and then shove it in my mouth and sigh as I chew the miraculous food. “So good.”

He’s standing across from me so he can see me, eating his own meal. He was good, though, and made himself some salad.

Whatever. There’s spinach in this lasagna. I’m good too.

“It was a lot for the first day back,” I tell him and shift my shoulders, trying to stretch them out. “I don’t mean to complain⁠—”

“Complain, Red. That’s what I’m here for. When shit’s tough, we eat dinner and talk about it. This is what it looks like for the rest of our lives. So, if you had a bad day, I want to hear everything. And trust me, I’ll be telling you all about mine too.”

“That sounds like a fair trade,” I tell him with a soft smile. “I can’t tell you specifics, but it was a long fucking day. And because we’re short staffed, it’s not like I could call someone in to help me. So it was back to back. This is the first meal I’ve had since before I left here this morning.”

He frowns over at me. “That’s not enough food.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. My head is pounding. And no, I didn’t drink any water.” I pick up the tumbler and take a long drink.

“Quit the fucking job, Red.”

I blink at him. “Come again?”

“Quit. I hate that you’re working yourself to exhaustion. You don’t even love this part of it.”

“I need my job, Xander.”

He looks like he’s about to get frustrated, but then he takes a breath, pops more food in his mouth, and watches me.

“I think we both know that you don’t need the job,” he says.

I, too, stay calm as I watch him in return and chew a bite of bread.