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In no time, he’s leaning over me, gently placing a pillow behind my head. It’s comforting in a way I haven’t been taken care of in a long time, if ever.
“Thank you.”
“Eat,” he insists. “Which one? Chicken or tomato. I can get rid of the dairy.” He doesn’t even wait before he’s lifting the grilled cheese and bowl of tomato soup.
“No.” I wrap my hand around his arm, stopping him. “I’m okay with dairy, and that looks delicious.”
Thank God the nausea has gone away. I take my first bite of the grilled cheese and sigh in relief. The sourdough bread is buttered and crisped to perfection. The cheddar cheese melts as soon as it hits my tongue.
“So good,” I groan.
When I open my eyes, which I hadn't realized I closed, Kyle is standing over me, those hazel eyes not missing anything.
“Thank you for this.”
He nods in the direction of the soup bowl. “It’s even better if you dip the sandwich into the soup.” He looks at me expectantly, as if he just gave an order to follow.
An involuntary laugh spills from my lips.
“What?”
I shake my head but quickly stop when the movement reminds me that I’m not out of the woods yet with this migraine.
“Of course, you even try to control the way I would eat the food you ordered for me.”
His eyelids narrow. “I’m not controlling. Just letting you know what tastes better.”
I smirk but don’t say anything. Instead, I dip the edge of the sandwich into the soup. Yes, he’s right, using the grilled cheese as its own conduit to get the soup into my mouth makes it even better.
“Told you,” he mutters even though I didn’t say anything. Kyle reaches over me and takes the other plate and bowl. “I’ll put these in the refrigerator in case you want them later or for tomorrow,” he explains.
“Are you leaving?” I quickly ask.
He stops and turns to me. “No. You’re still in pain. I can see it in the lines on your forehead.”
My heart swells with gratitude.
“I had Mike bring over my laptop. I’m going to get some work done in the kitchen, though.”
“Bring it in here,” I blurt out. “I won’t ask you about it.” I glance at the other side of my bed. “And my bed’s big enough.”
I almost cover my mouth because the meaning of what I just said could be construed a number of ways. Kyle doesn’t answer with words, though. He nods and then leaves my bedroom. I don’t know if that response is a yes or a no to my invitation to stay. In my bed, no less.
A breath escapes my lungs when, a few minutes later, Kyle comes sauntering into my bedroom, laptop and a few files in hand. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted his company until right now.
I watch his fluid movements as he adjusts the comforter, pillows, and bedsheets to make room for his lengthy body. Due to my own five-foot-ten height, and the fact that I never had my own bed as a kid or young adult, I made sure to buy the bed of my dreams when I got this place. It’s long enough for me, but it feels almost like a twin when Kyle gets in.
Though our bodies aren’t touching, his warmth envelopes me.
“I take it you like it.” He juts his head at my almost empty soup bowl.
I grin. “I can’t remember ever having grilled cheese and tomato soup together.” I lift and lower one shoulder. “One of the elementary schools I went to served grilled cheese every Wednesday. But they kept them in these foil sandwich bags, and by the time my grade had lunch, condensation had gotten into the bags and the sandwiches were soggy.”
“That sounds terrible.” He grunts and turns up his nose.
I roll my eyes even though that causes the pain in my head to worsen a little. “We can’t all eat caviar off of gold-framed plates every night.”
“Is that what you think my life was like growing up?” He sounds almost offended.
