Page 79 of Love Him Like Water

“Nothing,” I insisted since, technically, nothing was. Just a monthly annoyance.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

“No.”

Renzo made a noise in his throat before moving away from the door and going into the bathroom. But he came back less than a minute later.

“Mouse,” he said, voice softer, and I swear it was like a caress, soothing down all my frazzled edges. “You want a painkiller?” he asked, coming around the bed when I didn’t turn to look at him.

I remembered then that I hadn’t tucked the tampon box back into the drawer after I pulled one out earlier.

“I’m okay,” I said, unable to look at his face.

What can I say? I was a girl raised around boys. I never really had anyone close to me to talk to about girly things like this. So I wasn’t surprised by the heat that rose up my neck to tint my cheeks.

“Why suffer, though?” he asked, finger teasing over my flaming cheek, seeking my chin, and forcing it up until I had no choice but to look at him. “I’m a grown-ass man, Lore. This shit doesn’t bother me. No reason to feel weird about it. Gonna happen every month for the next, what, thirty years. Should be able to talk about it.”

“I took ibuprofen,” I told him. “It just hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“Okay. What else helps?” he asked.

“I’m okay.”

“Let’s try this again. What else helps when you’re bleeding and feeling like crap?”

“A heating pad,” I admitted, cursing myself for not having thought of packing it.

Still squatting next to the bed, he reached for his phone, tapping away for a minute.

“You like chocolate?” he asked.

“Are there people in the world who actually don’t like chocolate?” I asked, getting a small twitch from his lips.

“Any other requests?” he asked.

“You don’t have to order me anything,” I insisted, even as my heart fluttered a bit at this rarity. His softness and attention. When sex was off the table.

Renzo shook his head at me as he stood, and made his way to the bathroom.

I thought maybe he’d changed his mind on ordering me anything when I heard him in the shower. But not twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the bedroom door that had Renzo coming out of the bathroom in a pair of low-slung sleep pants, to accept a bag from whoever was on the other side.

Then he was coming toward me as he opened the box of the heating pad, plugging it in, turning it on, and leaving it on the floor to heat up as he piled a massive amount of chocolate onto my nightstand, then started to open another box, pulling out some kind of long strip that reminded me of a massive band-aid.

“Roll on your back for me, mouse,” he demanded, and I was too curious to do anything but what he demanded.

He pulled down the covers, then pushed up my shirt, before starting to draw down my pants.

I tensed, making his gaze slide up to mine.

“Relax,” he demanded softly as he finished exposing my belly. Then unpeeled the back of the patch, and pressed it over my stomach.

“What is… oh,” I said at the warming sensation.

“Saw those. Figure might help when you can’t be connected to a plug,” he said as he pulled my pants back up and my shirt down, then pressed the warm heating pad to my stomach before drawing up the blanket.

“Thank you,” I said, getting those flutters and swoops in my chest that reminded me just how far gone I was for this man, despite knowing it mostly led to heartache.

Renzo said nothing as he moved around the bed, sliding into his side, then patting his chest.

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