Page 85 of Whatever You Need

A twingeof pain shot up to my shoulder. I winced and sat up, looking around for my bottle of pain meds. My other arm was practically useless as I fumbled with removing the child-proof safety cap. I tossed the two pills down my dry throat, swallowed hard, and leaned back, waiting for the relief to kick in.

The sound of pots and pans banging around in my kitchen had me easing off the couch. I stumbled into the other room, and the sight before me sent a grin across my face.

“What are you doing?” I asked Amelia, who was making an absolute mess in my kitchen. There were mixing bowls and baking sheets everywhere. My countertops were coated with every ingredient I had stored in my pantry.

She stood up and made her way over to the sink so she could wash her hands. “I’m making sauce and meatballs. I figured you were probably sick of hospital food and would appreciate a home-cooked meal.”

I leaned over, inspecting the meatballs on the baking sheet. “I didn’t know you cooked?”

“I can cook a few things. Just because I was raised with nannies and a chef, doesn’t mean I can’t cook. I’ve been living on my own for a while now, and I haven’t starved yet.”

I whistled loudly at the red sauce that was boiling over on my stove. “It’s petty bold of you to cook this particular dish for an Italian boy,” I teased and walked over to discretely turn the burner on simmer before the sauce burned the bottom of my pan.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it won’t be as good as your mom’s, but it won’t taste like Ragu either.”

“Come here.” I opened my good arm, keeping my injured one secured in the sling. Amelia walked into my chest. “You don’t have to do this, but I appreciate the gesture. Thank you.”

Her eyes searched my face. “If we are going to be together, I’m going to have to learn to cook for my man, now aren’t I?”

There was a dusting of flour on her cheekbone, so I rubbed it off with my thumb. “Look at you going all June Cleaver on me. I didn’t realize you were so fond of the fifties era?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m glad to see you are feeling better. And here I was worried about you.”

“You were worried about me, huh?”

Amelia has done way more than she needed to. She’s cleaned my house, did my laundry, stocked my kitchen with food, and has pretty much been at my beck and call since I got home from the hospital. Any time I made a noise, she sprang into action. Having her here has been a godsend because there was only so much I could do with one working arm.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. I just want us to be okay too.”

I swept my lips against hers. “I want to talk to you about a few things before these pain meds fully kick in and I crash.”

“Let me just get this tray of meatballs in the oven.” She turned and put the cookie sheet on the oven rack and pushed the door shut. After loading a few dishes in the dishwasher, she washed her hands and poured a glass of water. I grabbed her fingers and led her into the living room.

I guided her to sit on my lap, and bit back a curse as my shoulder reminded me that a bullet had torn through it a few days earlier. She noticed me wince and raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine I promise.”

“Are you sure?” She didn’t look convinced, but I was determined to have this conversation before I was drugged out of my mind.

“The pain has been coming and going, it’s not that bad.”

“So, what do you want to talk about?” she asked, placing her glass of water on the table.

“What do you think your family is going to say about us?”

She slipped her fingers in the back of my hair. Her touch was soft and comforting and exactly what I needed. Fuck the pain pills. There was no better feeling than this right here. I moaned, feeling the tension from the past few weeks fade away.

“I don’t know and I don’t really care,” she said so quietly I almost didn’t hear her.

“I know that’s not true, and even if it was, I care.” I adjusted her on my lap, unsure how to ask my next question. “What about the engagement? Did you break it off?”

I’ve been avoiding asking about it because things have been so good lately, and I didn’t want to rock the boat. But we couldn’t keep dancing around the fact that this conversation had to happen. After all, avoiding it is what got us here to begin with.

“I haven’t spoken to anyone yet. My main focus is on making sure your recovery goes smoothly. Once I’m comfortable leaving you, that will be my first stop.”

I pulled back and frowned at her. She couldn’t be serious.

“Amelia…”

She stopped me with a finger to my lips. “When you were in the hospital, l sent an email to my grandfather and told him I was taking some personal time off and I would be in touch soon.”

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