She squints her eyes at me. “Where did you just go?”
“Sorry. Must be the ribs. They’re aching quite a bit at the moment.” Which is true—I’m overdue for some ibuprofen.
Her suspicious expression shifts to concern. “Sit down. I’ll bring you your tea and some pain medicine.”
That was a close one. “Thank you, wife. You always take such good care of me.”
“Don’t mention it,” she replies sarcastically.
A few minutes later, Lily brings me a cup of tea, a bottle of water, and two ibuprofen.
“Cheers.”
“You’re welcome.” She walks back to the kitchen, grabs her own mug, and heads toward her room.
“Where are you going?” I sound like a petulant child. What kind of sop am I turning into here? I know it breaks all the rules, but I want nothing more than to take whatever’s forming between her and me to the next level. If she’ll even let me.
A smug grin splits her face. “I have a date with some very important reports and people. You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Of course not. That’s ridiculous.” I sling her words back at her with a cheeky grin.
And while I’m momentarily proud of my success in seeing her smile slip ever so slightly, I’m borderline bereft when she closes the door, leaving me alone with only my book and a hot cup of tea to keep me company.
And a box of hushpuppies.
It’s time to switch tactics. That’s what I told myself an hour ago when I got the bright idea to make Lily dinner. Not an easy feat with my ribs, but I was determined. I managed to figure out something to cook with minimal movements that didn’t require bending over or lifting heavy items.
That brought me to spaghetti and meatballs, a specialty of mine. Turns out I can roll a ball of raw meat with one hand and fill a pasta pot with water, one measuring cup at a time. Before long, the aromas of tomatoes, garlic, basil, and savory Italian meatballs permeatethe kitchen.
As the sauce simmers, I set the table, which looks decidedly bare. Then I remembered the hibiscus bush outside of my apartment building. I grab a pair of shears and head out the door with the intention of clipping a few blooms I’m sure won’t be missed. I’d rather they be lilies for obvious reasons, but these will do in a pinch.
Just as I’m about to clip a third bloom, I see Lily racing toward me, and she doesn’t look happy at all.
“Payton!” She comes to an abrupt stop in front of me, then starts pushing me toward the apartment. “What are you doing?”
I quirk a grin and hold up the flowers. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“Get inside. Now.” She hustles me through the door—or rather I let her—and then turns the lock once we’re back in the apartment. “What were you thinking?”
She’s standing there with her hands on her hips, looking at me as if I just broke some cardinal rule. Perhaps I did. “I didn’t see the harm in stepping outside for a moment. Your partner has eyes outside, so I figured it was safe enough.”
She drops her hands to her sides and takes a step closer to me. “Safe enough won’t keep a bullet from piercing that humongous head of yours, and with those broken ribs, a child could take you down in a heartbeat.”
I search the cabinet for a container to serve as a vase and find a tall glass. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to make a special dinner for you. My way of saying thank you for taking care of me.”
Her stern expression falters a smidge and, as she parts her lips to say something, a knock sounds on the front door. “Are you expecting someone?”
I shake my head.
She checks the peephole, then opens the door, still looking rather peevish.
Wade swaggers in, followed by Ethan, Mathéo, Elias, and finally, Luke.
“We thought we’d pay our Pay a visit.” Wade chuckles. “Get it? Pay our Pay…”
Ethan pops him on the arm. “Give the Dad jokes a rest, man.”
Luke grunts. “Sorry. When I told them I needed to stop by and get a few things I forgot, they insisted on coming with me.”
