“You still feeling up for dinner?”
“I think so. I just took some meds that will hopefully knock out the headache and nausea. Fingers crossed. It always starts with a tension headache—the meds should kick in soon.”
“Would a massage help the tension?”
Kill me dead.I know it would.
“Maybe? I might feel better after dinner, so thanks, but it might not be necessary.”
“Well, let’s eat and then see how you’re feeling. I’m pretty good at massages, or at least I’ve been told.”
Of course, he is. I honestly don’t know what would be worse: a migraine or Joshua’s hands back on me… plutonic for him, but not for me. Maybe I should accept a few crumbs, even if I want more of a meal.
“Sure, we’ll see how I am feeling,” I swallow.
We tuck into dinner, and I don’t know how, but I’m ravenous. My nausea is resolving, and the pasta and meat sauce taste like the best I’ve ever had.
“This is delicious,” I say between bites.
“I tried to make meatballs, but they weren’t holding together.”
“Well it’s exactly what I needed. And the garlic bread. I’m starving, even though we didn’t do anything besides eat today.” I laugh, and overall, I am feeling better about everything with a bit of food in my belly. Finishing our meal in silence, I decided to find out more about what is planned for tomorrow.
“Tell me more about this clinic. What time do you think we should head in? Will it be busy?”
“It could be busy or slow, so recommend you bring a phone charger and a book to read, just in case. It’s pretty standard for its purpose. All the basics for routine and urgent care. Thanks to a famous actor with a home nearby, who made generous donations, there is some high-end equipment.”
“Okay, I don’t have anything to read, maybe I can check out your bookshelf?”
“Sure, I have a mini library of sorts — it’s the room adjacent to the den where we were watching TV.”
“Great. I’ll check it out.”
We both stand at the same time to clear the table. My earlier disquiet is returning, so I keep myself busy, clearing the table.
“Lily, you weren’t feeling well earlier. How about you sit down and I’ll take care of this? Do you want tea or coffee or anything?”
“I’m feeling better, and I’d like to make myself useful. But I’ll take a decaf coffee, thanks.”
“Sure.” He is making some coffee in a French press while I get started on the dishes. After a few minutes, I feel his hands on my waist as he sneaks up behind me, and I forget how to breathe.
“Let me take it from here.”
I’m still breathless as he lifts me and sets me to the side of the sink. I can’t find words because of that feeling of his hands on me—so all I hear myself say is, “Oh.”
Without saying another word, Josh takes over the washing. Meanwhile, I stand there, drying my hands on my pajama pants. After he noticed I was still standing where he had placed me, he nodded to a side cabinet. “There’s sweetener in there and some flavored syrups if you want.”
“Thanks.” I fix myself a coffee and sit on the loveseat in the adjoining room, the sides of my waist still tingling.
I’m sitting, lost in my head, when he walks over and stands in front of me.
“You feeling okay?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Still need that massage?”
My brain short circuits. I cannot think of anything I want more, but I’m vaguely aware that it’s not a good idea. For the life of me, however, I can’t say no.
