Page 22 of Blurred Love

I shake my head. “No, I had hoped you’d let me help you, but if you want me to go, I will.”

He lifts his arm and peeks at me with one eye open. “You sure you want to stay?”

I lean over to look at him. “As long as I’m not bothering you, I’d like to stay.”

He scoots over to the middle of the bed. “Lie down with me.”

I turn off the lamp, and then I lie down next to him, making sure I don’t jostle him. He pulls me flush against his body, my head against his chest. I stroke his back, up and down, over and over. Softly, I ask him, “Is this okay? I read that some people can’t stand to be touched when they have a migraine, so if I’m bothering you?—”

He cuts me off. “You’re not bothering me. Don’t stop.”

We lie here for a while, and eventually, his breathing slows, letting me know he’s gone to sleep. I’m not sure how long we sleep, but when I wake up, he’s staring at me in the darkness.

“Hey,” I whisper.

He kisses my forehead. “I like this.”

I snuggle into him. “Like what?”

He kisses me again and then rests his cheek on my head. “Waking up with you in my arms.”

I smile into the crook of his neck. “Can I heat up some food for you?”

He groans. “We’ll have to order something, I haven’t been to the store in a while.”

I raise up and disentangle my arms and legs from him. “I made dinner for you.”

He sits up slowly. “You made me dinner?”

I can feel the blush on my face before I answer. “Yeah, I thought instead of going out I would feed you.”

I disappear into the kitchen and pull out the plate of food. As I heat it up, I find a cup, put some ice in it, and then fill it up with water. He walks into the kitchen, and even though his hair is all over the place, the pain seems to be lifting.

As soon as the microwave dings, I set the plate down on the table along with his drink. “Eat up. I’m going to use your restroom.”

I go and freshen up, using his toothpaste and my finger to brush my teeth, and when I walk back into the kitchen, his plate of food is half empty. “This is so good.”

I open the freezer door and pull out the cool wrap. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it. I got you a cold wrap. The box says it helps with migraines. Do you need it?”

He shakes his head and then scoots his chair out from the table and gestures to his lap. “Sit down.”

I put the cool wrap away and then look at the three other chairs and then back at him. “You want me to sit on your lap?”

He nods and pats his leg.

I laugh like he’s joking until I realize he’s serious. “I’m not going to sit on your lap.”

He reaches for my hand and threads our fingers together. “Why not?”

I point to his plate. “Because you’re eating, and I’m too big to be sitting on anyone’s lap.”

He sucks in a breath. “I’m not asking you to sit on anyone’s lap. I’m asking you to sit on mine.” He tilts his head to the side and looks up at me like this is something he really wants.

I jut my chin at him. “Why?”

He tugs me toward him. “Because I want to be close to you, but I also want to finish my food.”

How can I argue with that? Gingerly, I sit down on his leg. I mean to hover, holding my weight on my legs, but he circles his arm around my waist and pulls me to him. He’s turned me to the side so that I’m facing him, and he’s all smiles now.

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