Page 78 of The Heart We Guard
“Sorry, I must have really needed that.”
“I’m sure baking a baby takes a lot of invisible energy and effort,” he says.
“Baking?”
Butcher stands and puts his hands on his hips. “Bake. Build. Grow. Form. Whatever the right word is for your contribution to the whole nine-month thing.”
I force myself to sit up. While the inclination is to close my eyes again, there’s no point. I’ll only end up wide awake at three a.m., wondering what I’m doing with my life.
“What food did you bring?”
“Italian. Got it from a nice place in town.”
My stomach grumbles, underscoring the urgency I suddenly feel to inhale a huge plate of carbs. “Thank you.”
He takes my hand and hoists me from the sofa like I weigh nothing more than a bag of sugar.
The food is on the table, still tied up in the bag he carried it in, but he’s rustled up some plates and cutlery and glasses.
“There’s beer and wine in the fridge. I don’t know what the rules are on drinking while pregnant, but I wanted you to have options.”
“I’ll just stick with water.”
When everything is set up and opened, I inhale the tangy scent of tomatoes and garlic.
There’s spaghetti and meatballs, and a creamy sauce with mushrooms and ham, and a large serving of lasagna. Plus, salads, and crusty bread and garlic dough balls.
“That’s a lot of food.”
Butcher offers me a serving spoon. “Yeah. But I didn’t know what you’d like, so I ordered a bunch in the hope you aren’t vegetarian.”
“Not a vegetarian all the time, but I do try to have days where I don’t eat meat, just for health and environment reasons.”
Butcher stops mid-shovel of food onto his plate. “Jesus. You’re kind of intimidating.”
I can’t help but laugh. “What?”
“You heard me. Super fucking smart. Noble. Environmental. Surgeon. Part-time vegetarian. General do-gooder.”
I raise an eyebrow. “As opposed to you, the do-badder.”
Now, it’s Butcher’s turn to laugh. “Do-badder? I’m gonna remember that. Might even get it tattooed somewhere.”
I help myself to a large portion of food. Perhaps more than I can eat. “I’m not always perfect. I have flaws too. I mean, I’m sitting here, without a job, because I couldn’t keep my temper under control.”
Butcher is chewing on some pasta, but he points his fork at me three times before he actually swallows. “Yeah, but you were pissed on behalf of a patient you were advocating for to reduce his family’s medical bills. Still fucking noble, Doc.”
The pasta is perfectly cooked. Al dente, with just the slightest resistance to a bite. And the creamy sauce with the mushrooms hits the spot. I notice that Butcher hasn’t touched any of that particular dish. Maybe I can keep some for leftovers tomorrow.
“Thank you for thinking of me and getting all this food.”
Butcher reaches for my wrist, holding it gently and rubbing his thumb over my skin. “My pleasure. Been a while since I’ve had to think about someone else. Not sure I’ve really done it right before, but I’m gonna learn.”
“You haven’t had any serious relationships with anyone since Ember’s mom?” I ask.
Butcher shakes his head and rips a garlic dough ball in half before putting some in his mouth.
“Why not?” I ask.
