Page 82 of Risk It All
“Didn’t I text you?” Or had I hallucinated that? I was even more confused as he started to pull out salmon, sweet potatoes, lemons, and kale, along with olive oil and seasonings.
“You did,” he said simply, eyes flicking to me.
“Right,” I drawled. “And didn’t I say you didn’t have to bring me soup?”
“You did,” he repeated. “Which is why I didn’t bring you soup.”
I huffed at his remark and smoothed down my messy hair, trying to tame what likely resembled a bird’s nest. “I bet I look like a mess,” I grumbled, not even wanting to look in the mirror.
Leo’s expression softened as he made his way over to me, gently tipping my chin up. “You look absolutely beautiful, like always.”
My stomach flipped at his words, which were so simple, yet I knew they were genuine from the look in his eyes. I didn’t think I’d ever had someone look at me with such care and tenderness.
“Are you feeling any better?” he asked.
I didn’t have the opportunity to answer his question because the cramping pain was back—or never really left. I swore under my breath, leaning on the kitchen counter.
My migraine was for the most part gone, at least. I’d take that as a win.
Leo took a step closer, setting his large, warm palm against my lower back, grounding me in a way only he could. “Why don’t you go lie down,” he suggested while moving his palm in soothing circles.
I mumbled a response neither of us could make out but started to trudge over in the direction of the couch.
“In bed.” Leo’s voice was both gentle and firm.
As much as I wanted some sort of witty comeback about how he couldn’t tell me what to do, I knew he was right.
“But my blankets.”
“I’ll bring them over to you. Go get comfortable.”
I nodded, and within minutes, I was under the covers. I was half-asleep when I felt the added weight and coziness of the blankets—and a much too tender kiss to my forehead.
I was in and out of sleep, but it didn’t feel as long as my last nap. IthinkI felt better, but it was also hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. Except my growling stomach—that was very much real.
Unsurprisingly, I’d forgotten to eat today between the rounds of cramps and naps, which likely didn’t help. I sat up slowly and inhaled, smelling what I thought was salmon, lemon, and vegetables. The very ingredients Leo had brought.
The lamps were on in the open kitchen and living room but none of the overhead lights, which eased the tension behind my eyes. I slowly took in the sight in front of me. Containers of steaming food and a spotless kitchen.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Leo looked up from wiping the counters. His voice was soft and gentle, like a warm embrace I never wanted to stop.
“Better, I think.” I peered into the food containers. “What’d you make?”
“I assumed you hadn’t eaten today and wanted to make sure you at least had dinner when you woke up. I made you lemonsalmon with sautéed kale and roasted sweet potatoes. Pretty simple, but I looked up the best foods for period cramps. Salmon is supposed to reduce inflammation, sweet potatoes are good for muscle relaxation, and leafy greens should help with cramp relief.”
Tears burned the backs of my eyes.
Leo had likely left work early to get groceries and cook me dinner. He had researched what foods might make me feel better.
I quickly looked away from him, my attention going back to the food. “Thank you,” I said softly. “You…you really didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
I turned toward him, willing the emotion that was burning behind my eyes to go away. “You shouldn’t want to,” I whispered. “You shouldn’t be taking care of me.”
“Why not?” Leo wrapped an arm around my waist, his hand splaying on the small of my back. Grounding me.
Because we’re not supposed to be anything.
