“I’m fine.”
“Liar,” he whispers.
“Okay. I fold, it hurts like a bitch.” I only mouth the last word.
I shuffle to the table, and he’s got the chair pulled out for me before I even get there. He does the same for Mummo, so we’re seated across from each other.
“Do you have supper plans on Monday?” he asks, returning to the pots and pans he has going on the stovetop.
“Supper?” I say dumbly.
“Yep. The meal you tend to eat at four, maybe five o’clock?”
“Early bird supper is where it’s at. You’ve never complained.”
He smirks. “Do you want to eat supper with me on Monday? I looked at your Bible…I mean calendar, and there’s a respite nurse that day.”
“Hilarious.”
I glance at Mrs. Lauri, who’s watching us with amusement. “That sounds like a lovely idea, Ashlyn.”
I smile sweetly, but my teeth are pressed tightly together. What is this? Two against one?
“You have to add milk to her oatmeal to thin it out,” I tell him.
“I know that.”
“And if you don’t stir it hard enough it sticks to the pot.”
He folds his arms over his chest. “Can you stop?”
I drop my head into my hands, examining the tabletop. There I go again. Trying to keep everything under control. A full mug of milky tea slides across the table, stopping between my elbows. I almost cry as the sweet scent of Earl Grey fills my nose. Isaac smooths his hands over my shoulders and squeezes my trapezius muscles. I lean back, the heat of the cup sinking into my palms, letting him work out the knots. I’m practically drooling at the sensations.
“Thank you.”
I don’t even know what I’m thanking him for. The tea? The massage? The care?
The heat of his hands on my bare skin makes me realize my robe is still hanging on the back of my door. I limped my way in here wearing a snug tank top and sleep shorts. And much like Isaac, I’m commando too. My nipples tighten beneath my top.
“Well?” He sways me with his hands. “Supper?” He’s still waiting for my answer.
Mummo is folding cloth napkins across the table, no longer paying us attention. I envision my calendar in my mind. Monday, she has a specialist appointment out of town.
I lower my voice, “What about Mummo? You saw what happened last night.”
“She thinks it’s a great idea. Right, Mummo?”
She lifts both her hands in a thumbs up.
Seriously?
“We can stay in. Is that a yes?”
Why does he have to sound so hopeful?
“We eat supper most nights together, Isaac.”
Of course, he has a rebuttal. “You always cook. This time I’ll make the meal.”