Page 54 of Attached At Heart
“I—”
Could not finish that sentence honestly.
Blake shook his head and stepped back, finally releasing his grip from my waist. The sudden loss of warmth sent a shiver down my spine, and I drew my white coat tighter around me. “I was meeting Nat for lunch to talk about some legal stuff with her ex, and I thought I’d stop up here and bring you my leftovers before heading back to Boston Medical.”
“Oh, howthoughtful,” I drawled, but my words had no real bite. I’d happily eat leftovers. It would be much better than the rabbit food I packed this morning.
“No leftovers, I’m kidding,” Blake laughed. “I brought you a BLT with extra mayo and a pickle on the side. Promise I didn’t even take a bite.”
“That’s my favorite,” I said absently, peeking inside the bag.
“I know. I also know that you’ve been packing shit lunches for work, so we’re going to need to work on that when we get back.”
I bit my lip because I couldn’t even argue with him about that.
And when I looked up, Blake wore an expression of satisfaction because heknewI couldn’t even argue.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asked suddenly, clearing his throat. “You were holed away in your room for hours last night. I can only assume you were packing.”
“Not even close,” I groaned, thankful for the change in topic. “I still have to pick out at least four more outfits that don’t look terrible.”
Blake snorted. He thought I was kidding.
I was definitely not kidding.
I didn’t buy clothes for myself very often, which meant my closet was full of things that went out of style a decade ago. I had at least a dozen peplum tops I should really just throw away.
“I’m sure none of them look terrible.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Let me be the judge, then.” He shrugged. “You can try on the options for me.”
“Didn’t realize you were a fashion show kind of guy,” I said, shifting on my feet and trying to push off this idea. I wouldnotbe trying on my outfits for Blake.
But Blake just grinned crookedly, held my gaze, and said, “I’m whatever kind of guy my wife needs.”
My brain knew he was being a lighthearted tease, but other parts of my body didn’t, clenching at his words.
“If you’re expecting a Victoria’s Secret–type show, you’re going to be disappointed,” I said with a sigh.
He choked a little at that comment, which led to a cough. His voice sounded strained when he finally replied. “You know, funnily enough, I did not assume you’d walk out in your underwear.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I waved that idea away quickly. “I was referring more to the level of hotness on the runway.”
Blake gave me a funny little stare, and I wondered what he was thinking. But before I could find out, he simply shook his head.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Lane.” He tapped on the paper bag with my lunch. “Eat. I’ll see you at home.”
“Thank you for lunch,” I called after him, and he grinned over his shoulder as I watched him walk away.
Like I actually stood there when I had a million other things to do, including scarfing down this sandwich, and watched my best friend walk away.
No,husband.
Blake was my husband.
And he was doing a very good job at reminding me of that a little more each and every day.
