Page 56 of Why Not Forever?

Chapter 20

Vic

Ifeelmostlyhumanagainwhen I wake up, except for one thing: my stomach is so empty it feels like it’s eating itself. Tanner’s been in to check on me a few times and brought me more broth, which I’ve eaten, but now I want something with a little more substance. I get out of bed, heading to the bathroom first because I need to shower and brush my teeth and hair. I turn the water to scalding hot and scrub my skin of all the icky feeling of being sick. When I’m finished pulling myself together, I slip into some clean pyjamas and open my bedroom door.

The first thing I notice is the dining table completely covered in papers, and a laptop with a cord snaking away to the plug. Tanner’s cell phone is placed in the middle of a stack of papers next to the computer.

The next thing I notice is the smell. It makes my stomach growl, reminding me I’ve eaten almost nothing in twenty-four hours and whatever is cooking in the kitchen smells divine. I move to the pass through and sit on my usual chair.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Tanner says.

I arch a brow. “It’s not morning.”

He grins at me over his shoulder, not pausing in his stirring. “No. It’s after 3pm. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Hungry.”

He nods, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and ladling some soup into it. He sets it in front of me with a stack of crackers.

“I can’t take any credit for this,” he says. “It’s the second container of soup from Lis. I just heated it up.”

I pick up the spoon and eat without another word. Conversation can wait until after my stomach stops trying to break free of my body to consume the food in front of me. Tanner putters around the kitchen, tidying things up.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” I ask when the soup is half gone and I’ve stuffed most of the crackers into my mouth.

“I ate lunch at lunchtime,” he says with a smirk. “I’ll eat dinner at dinnertime.”

Now that I have some food in me, I’m more able to think clearly. “You really stayed home all day?”

“Yeah. I brought my stuff, so it wasn’t a big deal.” He crosses his arms, leaning on them against the counter in front of me.

“How did Dad feel about that?”

Tanner shrugs. “I don’t really care. My wife was sick. I needed to be here.”

My heart clenches painfully at those two words:my wife. Every time he calls me that, it hits a little deeper. I don’t know why it feels so… right.

“Well, thank you,” I say, looking down at the soup.

He shrugs again and straightens, coming out of the kitchen. I glance over at him and do a double take. I hadn’t paid much attention to what he was wearing, but now that he’s in front of me, I see he has on a cozy sweatshirt and soft, grey sweatpants. And oh. My. God.

I turn back to my food quickly, trying to scrub the image of him in those fucking sweatpants from my mind. But it’s like it’s burned there indelibly. I keep seeing the outline of that dick. After our one night, I’d purposefully tried to forget how impressive it is, but I’m not forgetting now.

“I’m done with work for today,” he says, sitting next to me at the pass through. It takes all my willpower not to turn and ogle his pants again. “I figured we could relax on the couch, maybe watch a movie. I texted your friends. Spencer told me some of your favourites. And Derek mentioned a couple card games.”

“You don’t need to keep me company,” I say, glancing at him, forcing myself to meet his eyes and not look at him in his comfortable clothes. “You’ve been stuck here for a while, waiting on me hand and foot. You’re probably going stir crazy or something.”

“I’m exactly where I want to be, Vic. Finish eating. Do you want to watch a movie or play a game? I’ll get it set up.”

My stomach does this stupid little flip at his words and tears prick the backs of my eyes. He’s being so sweet and I’m still feeling a little gross, my emotions riding closer to the surface than I usually let them. I blink a few times, then clear my throat. “Movie,” I say, because he’s waiting for an answer. “I can’t do much requiring any amount of real thought at the moment.”

He chuckles and stands, and I can’t help it if my gaze drops to those pants again before I quickly turn back to my bowl.

“Sounds good,” he says. “I’ll get a few things ready.”

By the time I’m done eating and make my way to the couch, he has a romcom queued up and blankets ready for me to wrap around myself. I’m about to sit down when he tugs me next to him, letting me snuggle into his warm body. He covers me in the throw blanket I keep on my couch and presses play on the movie.

“We don’t have to watch this,” I tell him. “You’re probably not interested in a silly romantic comedy.”

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