Page 150 of The Love Operation

I nod, slower this time. “Okay.”

I sit in a chair by the window, holding Tad Cooper in my palm as I look out at the green grass, feeling a mix of contentment and utter despair—two emotions I’m not sure are supposed to coexist.

A while later, Benedict appears in the doorway. “Everything’s ready,” he says.

I put Tad Cooper back in his carrier and follow Benedict to a downstairs bedroom, where he stops just shy of the open bathroom door. “It’s through there.”

He massages the back of his neck again.

This is slightly awkward for both of us.

“Okay,” he says, clapping his hands once. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in the kitchen putting together some snacks for when you’re done. But no rush—seriously.”

I hesitate. “I . . . don’t know what to say, except thank you. This is really thoughtful. And completely unexpected.”

He nods, turns to go—then pivots back. “Oh, and everything in there . . . it’s what Kate picked out. I just recreated it.”

“Are you apologizing for drawing me a bath?”

“I . . . guess? When I did it for Kate, it felt like a good deed. But now that you’re actually about to walk in there, I’m a little self-conscious. I just—” He hesitates. “I don’t want you to read anything into it. I know you’re with someone else, and it’s kind of—”

I smile, already walking toward the door. “Just go. Let me have my bath.”

“Okay, okay. If you need anything, text me.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Right. Just find me when you’re done.”

And then he’s gone.

I walk into the bathroom—and stop.

Now I get it—the hesitation, the bashful smile, the feeling he couldn’t explain. Because this is not just a bath. This is something straight out of a high-end spa catalog.

The deep soaking tub sits beneath a wide window, its sheer curtains diffusing the golden-hour light. The overhead lights are off, and candles flicker from every surface. A wooden bath caddy spans the tub, holding a folded towel, a tiny bowl of what look like chocolate-covered almonds, and a stemless glass of sparkling water garnished with lime.

Mounds of bubbles float on the surface of the water, and the air is thick with the scent of lavender—one of my favorites.

I pause long enough to take a picture.

Then I strip down, letting go of the self-consciousness that tries to cling to me. This wasn’t made for romance. It was made for peace, for care.

He did this for his sister. And because Kate was involved, it feels okay. Innocent. Something I really, really need.

I don’t realize how much I need it until I lower myself into the deliciously warm water and sink beneath the bubbles.

My pulse slows. My chest relaxes. My muscles, finally, begin to let go.

I close my eyes and sink deeper.

And I let myself be held, not by a person, but by the moment.

Chapter 39

You Know, I Like These Chairs

Lavender still clings to my skin as I slip back into my clothes and find Benedict and Tad Cooper in the living room.