Page 68 of From Our First

“I hate that you have headaches. That I can’t help beyond this.”

I looked up at her, then took her hand and kissed her palm. She gave me a small smile, and it felt like the best thing in the world. “You being here? It’s better than anything else you could’ve done. Usually, I deal with these things alone—or now, with Daisy. But I like you being here in my space, next to me. Helping me.”

I wanted to say more, but I knew if I did, it would be a mistake. Too much, too fast. Thankfully, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.” Myra wiggled around me so she could get up.

“I already paid,” I called out.

“Okay,” she said, and I shook my head.

I knew Myra had way more money than I did. She would always have more. It wasn’t a problem for me, though, and I didn’t mind that she sometimes paid for us to go out. However, she occasionally got a little affronted over the idea that I wanted to pay.

It was just a thing, though. We would alternate like any couple good at finding balance.

Only I didn’t know what that would be for us.

“It smells delicious.” Myra walked into the living room. I stood up, Daisy in my arms, and then took her outside to take care of her business. After, I put her in her octagon, where she promptly fell back asleep.

“She already ate dinner. Now, it’s time for us.”

Myra’s eyes darkened, and I kissed her again. “Food first,” she said. “I’m starving.”

“It’s like you knew exactly where my mind was going,” I laughed.

“I always know where your mind is going, Nathan Brady.”

“I am sweet and innocent. I have no idea what you mean.”

Myra snorted and sat down next to me, leaning between my legs as the two of us divvied up our food, plates piled high with bulgogi and broccoli and teriyaki chicken.

“This smells so good,” Myra repeated. “Either that, or the fact that I skipped lunch probably makes me think everything smells amazing.”

I frowned. “You skipped lunch?”

“Yes. I was stressed out over a simple phone call, and it took me forever to get into my project. But then I was in the middle of it, and I was having a good day after that. In the zone. Lots of painting.”

“What phone call?” I asked, tapping her lip with my fork. She opened, and I slid the chicken inside. She frowned.

“I can feed myself.”

“It’s hotter when I feed you.”

“You say that, but now there’s teriyaki on my chin, isn’t there?”

She narrowed her eyes, and I shrugged and reached for the napkin to clean her up.

“There. All gone.”

“But now I’m all sticky,” she said, and I groaned.

“Stop saying random sexy things to distract me. What was the phone call about?”

“I just said I was sticky. That’s not sexy.”

“Do I need to make you sticky so you could see how sexy it is?” I asked, raising a single brow.

“Okay, okay, fine. Later.”

---