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I need to think of some way to properly thank him that doesn’t involve me throwing myself at him or bum-rushing him into kissing me until my lips are sore.
Because that’s all I could think about when he was here just now. This illness has totally rearranged my priorities.
I busy myself in my kitchen, pulling out pots and pans. Can a person just whip up some chicken broth? Probably not, and me just even thinking that for a second is indication enough that I have no business being in a kitchen right now.
I consult my pantry for something ready-made, but gag at my measly selection of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and cheap Ramen. If I wanted tawdry Ramen right now, I would go back to my college days, or even my leaner, I’m-an-adult-but-living-the-life-of-a-starving-artist days.
As it is, I’ve gotten very used to the lovely Drake bringing me most of my meals. I haven’t had to go grocery shopping for a couple of weeks now, which means I’ve also forgotten to special order my high-end Ramen.
I pad around the house, knowing if I were to sit or lie down, I’d be out like a light, and who knows when I’d wake up again.
The doorbell rings and Destiny’s Child goes crazy. Is it Sebastian again? A girl can dream, so I make my way to the door, successfully avoiding the hoppy antics of my barking dog, which is quite the feat considering my fuzzy head.
The aroma of something involving chicken hits my senses before it registers that Drake is indeed on my doorstep, white bags in each hand. I press the dog away with my knee.
“Are you feeling any better, Elianna?” he asks, his brows raised, his tone cautious. What did Sebastian say to make Drake so concerned?
“I’m hanging in there.” The scent of celery and broth make it hard to focus.
“Sebastian sent these over. One container is plain broth and the other has noodles and veggies and stuff. He wasn’t sure what state you were in.”
“Hmmm.” I tap my mouth. “Am I in a noodle state or a plain broth state?” I ask myself out loud. Because I can’t say what’s actually on my mind right now. That Sebastian somehow knew I needed soup. He’s that attentive, that in sync with me. And willing to send me his food guy with sustenance.
“Hey, food guy,” I wave like he just got here.
Drake eyes me carefully as he sets one of the bags down on the floor. He rifles through the one he’s still holding. “There are also a couple of soup spoons, a can of Sprite, a bottle of Gatorade, some peppermint oil, some rolls . . . I think that’s about it.”
“Wow. This is incredible.”
“Oh, and a card.” At this, Drake grins from ear to ear, lifting a hand to fiddle with his ear bud—he always only ever has one in. “Hey, we miss you in the office,” he says. “Hope you can join us soon.” He turns and jogs down a couple of steps before turning back around. “But not too soon!”
“You sound just like Sebastian,” I mutter under my breath before waving and offering the most cheerful “Thanks!” I can manage.
I shut the door, root through the bag, and find the card in a sealed envelope. It must have been right next to the soup because it’s warm to the touch. I lift it to my cheek, and now I’m standing in my living room, with an unopened card with “Elianna” written in Sebastian’s nearly indecipherable handwriting, almost ready to cry.
Oh my gosh. Did I cry last night? I remember something involving tears at one point, but I don’t know what the context was or if Sebastian noticed.
Once the envelope cools to the touch, I press it to my nose to see if I can smell his musky scent on it. The smell of the soup is overpowering, but as I rip open the envelope, I catch a whiff of something that may be related to Sebastian and my blood starts going crazy once again.
Elianna,
I don’t know any sonnets, and I won’t bore you with my attempts to pretend that I do. I do know one thing: you’re cute when you’re sick (and when you’re not).
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to get well. Because I do.
Love,
Sebastian
Okay. That was . . . sweet and a little funny. And he signed it “Love, Sebastian.”
Hmmm. Does he? My heart does a little skipping thing. I have it bad. I really, really like Sebastian. How could I not? He’s the most thoughtful, successful, kind, intelligent, driven man I’ve ever met. At this point, all other men pale in comparison.
I hate that I’ve fallen for my boss of all people. And what will Ethan think?
What doIeven think of that?
I’ve dated a lot, but never seriously. What makes me think I’m ready for that?
