What isn't surprising is the mug of coffee clutched between her palms.
“Have you even had water today?” I ask. She looks up at me, the diffused light coming from the bay windows behind the couch making her red hair glow.
My heart and my lungs clatter together in my chest. Even in this state, she was a goddamn wonder.
“You saw me?—”
“More than three sips?”
She shrugs, looking at her mug. “There's water in coffee.”
I pluck the mug from her hands and replace it with the water bottle I sent in here with her. “Drink this.”
She pouts. “I'm going to text Lucy and tell her you're being mean to me.”
I smirk. “Do that and she'll be over here in five minutes.” I pass her a box of cold medicine. “And if you think I'm bad, you've never seen Lucy in mom mode.”
“That feels like a threat somehow.”
“It will be if you keep fighting me.” I point to the water. “Drink.”
“I knew I shouldn't have let you in,” she says after taking a sip.
“Can't take it back now.” I grab an empty box of cold medicine and a few other things that could be tossed from the makeshift coffee table.
“Cillian,” Toni says as sternly as she can manage. “Put the trash down.”
“Toni,” I mirror her tone. “Take your meds.”
“I'm being serious, I don't need?—”
“You didn't need to come work a whole shift at the bar—for free, mind you—but you did. So unless you want to be a hypocrite...”
She groans and falls over into her nest.
I laugh softly at her dramatics. “Friends take care of each other, right?” Setting the bits of trash aside, I coax her upright by her shoulders. “Right?”
“I guess.”
“Good enough. Now, do you want to keep arguing with me, or would you like some soup?”
She sighs. “Will saying yes to soup get you out of my apartment?”
“It will certainly speed the process along.”
“Soup it is,” she concedes.
“Good.” I plant a kiss on her warm forehead.
I bring her a small bowl with a bit of the baguette. “Don't worry about finishing it.”
While she eats, I inspect what appears to be the only other furniture in the room, a console with a record player on it and two of those cube shelves filled with records.
“Holy shit.” I run my fingers along the alphabetized tabs. “This is?—”
“Too much. I know.” There’s a bitterness in her answer I don’t like.
“I was going to say impressive.” And I mean it. A collection like this takes years and dedication to build. I can’t help but wonder who made her feel like it was a negative. “May I?” I gesture to the player.