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I sit up in bed, my latest plan in my head.
Maybe I should just give up. Maybe it would be better if I just accepted my fate and let him win, but I can’t do that. I would never let a character do such a thing, and for now, the only plot I can focus on is my own.
When the door opens, I’m waiting on the bed, the blanket pulled up around me. I smile at him, doing my best to look sleepy.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, Mari,” he says, shutting and locking the door behind him before heading my way with a tray of food. “Just toast and eggs this morning.” His voice is almost glum, like this is a punishment that’s hurting him as much as it hurts me. “I need to run to the store later.”
“Oh.” My face lights up, and it’s completely genuine, because this couldn’t have been more perfect if I’d set it up myself. “Is there any way I could ask you to pick something up for me when you go?”
“Anything.” He drops to the bed, eyes wide. “What do you need?”
I look away sheepishly, clutching my hands together. “Well, I hate to ask, because you were almost perfect in getting me everything I love, but there is one thing you forgot, and I’ve been missing it so much.”
“What is it?” He glances at the bowl of mostly eaten grape candies.
My lips curve into a small smile when I meet his eyes. “Mint chocolate chip ice cream.”
“Mint chocolate chip?” He scrutinizes me. “You’ve always mentioned Rocky Road in your stories, never mint.”
“That was my husband’s favorite. But mint chocolate chip is mine.” I look down, appearing as if I’m lost in thought. “I don’t know that I’ve ever told anyone that, actually. You might be the only person to know. Except Declan and Liam. And my best friend, Kassara.”
He eyes me.
“Anyway, if it’s too much trouble—”
“It’s not,” he says quickly. “I’ll get it today.”
“Thank you. I was thinking we could have dinner together, if you’d like. And then ice cream.” I reach forward and squeeze his hand gently, and he looks down at it, his grin growing wide. “That is, if you like mint chocolate chip, too.”
“Yeah, I love it. It’s great.” I suspect he’s lying, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll eat it if he thinks it’ll make me happy.
Looks like you’re not the only one who can set a trap, Chris.
CHAPTERTWENTY
I’m not surprised in the least when my door opens several hours later, and he appears with a tray of pizza, my glass of wine—today’s saysI’m not slurring my words, I’m speaking in cursive—and two bowls of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
I smile at him.
It’s so funny how we’re both acting like nothing at all happened yesterday. How we’re being pleasant and cordial as if this is just another day and we’re just regular people.
He places the tray on the end of the bed, the glass of wine on my nightstand, and reveals the laptop tucked under his arm. “I thought we could watch another movie.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“First, I need to check your wounds.” He lays the laptop next to the tray on the bed and picks up the first aid kit from the dresser, walking around to me. I lie back so he can examine my stomach.
He presses on the exposed wound gently. “Does it hurt?”
I wince. “Not too bad.”
“It’s a little warm to the touch. Could be an infection. I’m going to clean it out with peroxide.” He dabs a bit of peroxide onto a cotton ball and rubs it over the cut. I suck in a breath through my teeth.
Lowering himself down closer, he blows a soft, slow breath on the wound, easing the pain but probably reinfecting it, too. Next comes the antibiotic cream and a fresh bandage.
“Thank you,” I mumble as he lowers my shirt and checks my calf next. “Your knee is swollen.” It’s as if he doesn’t realize he’s the reason for that. “Does it hurt?”
