Page 116 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

The corner of his mouth moved.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not.”

“You want to.”

“I appreciate your phrasing.”

A reluctant smile touched my lips and disappeared.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” His hand settled lightly on my waist. “Make the appointment.”

“I will.”

“And until you know what will help, we’ll keep extra sheets nearby.”

“We?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to sleep in a plastic-covered bed because my hormones have lost their minds.”

“I’m not covering the bed in plastic.”

“That’s what you heard?”

“It was the most troubling part.”

I rested my forehead against his chest. The damp cotton cooled my skin.

His arms closed around me.

“I hate this,” I whispered.

His palm moved slowly along my back.

“I don’t recognize my own body sometimes. I’ve spent forty years knowing what to expect from it. Now my period does whatever it wants; I wake up drenched; and I can’t remember the last time I slept longer than four hours without opening my eyes.”

The room remained quiet except for water striking tile.

“I know changes are coming,” I continued. “I know getting older isn’t something I should be ashamed of. But knowing that doesn’t make it easy when my body changes before I’m ready.”

Elijah kissed my temple.

“You don’t have to be comfortable with everything at once.”

I lifted my face. His gaze held mine.

“We’ll learn what you need as it changes.”

There was that word again.

We.

His thumb moved across my cheek.