Page 147 of Sing For Me

Eva

Iwake up to the sound of muffled cursing, the bed next to me empty. I sit straight up, a jolt of fear piercing the sleepy haze of waking up. Where’s Will?Please God,I think,don’t let it have all been a dream.

Then I hear that muffled cursing again and I sag back into the mattress in relief. He’s still here. And a moment later the bedroom door opens, revealing Will standing on the other side, a tray in his hands. He’s wearing just his boxer shorts, broad chest full of tattoos on full display. He sees me sitting up and the grin that stretches his face sends a flock of butterflies erupting in my belly. I wonder if that reaction will ever go away. I kind of hope not.

“Morning, sleepy girl.”

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Nearly ten.”

I gape at him. “Seriously?”

He smirks, bringing the tray over to the bed. “I wore you out last night.”

I snort. “I think it was the D&D marathon that wore me out.” I pull myself up to my knees. “What you got there?”

“French toast. But now that you’ve insulted my sexual prowess, I’m not sure I should share it with you.” His eyes widen as he takes in my expression. “Are you crying? I’m just joking! Of course I’ll share—”

A watery laugh bursts through my lips and I wipe my eyes reaching for him. “You made me breakfast in bed. No one has ever made me breakfast in bed.”

Will sets the tray on the mattress and pulls me into his arms. “I’ll make you breakfast in bed every day if you promise never to cry again. I can’t stand it.”

I laugh against his chest. “They’re happy tears.”

“Still don’t like it.”

I pull back to look up into his face and see that his expression is completely serious. “I’m going to cry sometimes, Will. That’s just life.”

He frowns. “Then I promise to always be around to wipe away your tears.”

My heart melts all over again. “For such a big tough guy, you’re awfully sweet, tattoo-boy.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he admonishes, kissing the tip of my nose.

“Let me have some of that French toast and your secret is safe with me.”

I gape at the plate Will sets on my lap. Slices of thick French toast encrusted with candied walnuts and swimming in syrup sit next to plump sausages. The breakfast tray still holds two cups of coffee and a plate of fresh fruit.

“This is a Vega Ransome special,” he informs me. “Cream-cheese stuffed walnut French toast. You’ll love it.”

“Where in the hell did you find all this food? There’s no way this was all in my fridge.”

Will rolls his eyes. “There was nothing in your fridge. Seriously, Eva, don’t you ever cook?”

“Why would I cook when take-out is a thing?”

He looks pained. “You need real food. I had groceries delivered first thing.”

I look up from cutting into gooey toast. “How long have you been up?”

“Couple hours.”

“Will! You should have woken me up.”

He shrugs. “I was enjoying watching you sleep.” He looks up at me. “Wait, does that sound creepy or sweet? ’Cause if it’s creepy, I totally wasn’t doing that at all.”

I laugh, happiness swelling in my chest. I love this man so much. “Let’s go with sweet.” Then I take a bite of the toast and all I can do is whimper. “Oh my God. Can Vega come and live with me? I’ll pay her to be my personal chef. This is amazing.”