Page 55 of Forever With You

His gaze dropped to where my hand rested. “I didn’t tell you so that you’d pity me.”

“I know.” I swallowed against the sudden knot in my throat. “I don’t pity you. I just feel bad that you and your grandfather have to go through this. I don’t have any personal experience with it, but I know how hard Alzheimer’s can be. I’m ... I’m proud of you.”

Nick’s surprised gaze flew to my face. He didn’t speak.

“A lot of ­people would’ve placed him in a facility. You didn’t.”

“It might get to that point,” he said, voice low.

I squeezed his arm. “And if it does, it won’t be because you didn’t care enough for him. I think you know that.”

His gaze collided and held mine. “Yeah.”

Something occurred to me. “Is that why you bartend? You mentioned having a degree, but is it because bartending allows you to virtually pick your own hours?”

“Partly.” Nick leaned back against the couch, causing my hand to slide to his. I left it there.

“Is he doing better now?” I asked.

Nick nodded. “For now.”

Pressing my lips together, I drew my hand back. “I am sorry you have to go through this.”

He didn’t respond right away. “How areyoufeeling? Still nauseous?”

The change of subject was understandable. “It hasn’t been too bad. I learned that I could take antacid meds if it gets too bad and it might help. All and all, I feel kind of normal.” I scrunched my nose. “Well, I might be a wee bit more emotional than normal.”

Nick grinned. “Nah.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Nice hair.” His hand snaked out and tugged on the edge of one of my braids.

I smacked his hand away and grumbled, “Whatever.”

“It’s cute.” His gaze was bright and soft. “You’re like Pippi Longstocking.”

I squinted. “How in the hell do you know about Pippi Longstocking? That’s from, like, decades ago.”

“I know things. Important things.” He smiled. “Besides, you’re like the grown-­up, sexy version of Pippi Longstocking.”

My brows rose. “Oh. Wow.”

“But I like the sweater better,” he added, his gaze dropping.

“I think you like the fact you can see some skin better,” I corrected.

“You got me there.” Sucking his lower lip between his teeth, he sat forward. “Can I do something?”

I arched a brow. “Uh, sure?”

Nick twisted so he was facing me, and when his hand moved toward my stomach, I realized I probably should’ve asked him what he wanted to do before I gave him permission. A second later the palm of his hand landed on my stomach.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I straightened. My eyes widened. His hand was large, nearly covering the width of my stomach, and his palm was warm. I felt the touch all the way to my spine.

He leaned in, so close that I felt his breath against my cheek. “I know I can’t feel anything yet, but I just wanted to put my hand there.”

“Why?” I felt a little dizzy, like I’d been holding my breath.

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