Page 75 of Let's Talk About Love
(Her panic attack lasted for about three minutes of chest constricting, hyperventilating terror before she pulled herself together.)
She had memorized the recipe, word for word, but still triple-checked each step before moving on and she only hurt herself once—a minor burn on her forearm while draining the noodles.
But the soup? The soup would beamazing. A masterpiece. Her pièce de résistance. Her grandma always said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.
(That was also the way to Alice’s heart, so bump those gender roles.)
But if that gross generalization was true, Takumi was about to fall madly in love with her.
“You’re cooking,” Takumi rasped before clearing his throat.
“Why are you out of bed?” she demanded, tapping the stirring spoon on the rim of the pan before replacing the lid. He looked distinctly ill: swaying as he stood, eyelids at half-mast, and patches of his flushed skin contrasted with paler portions.
“I heard you in here. It smells good.”
“Almost done.” She checked the food timer. “Fifteen more minutes.”
“Did you buy the whole store?” He grinned, sifting through the contents of the plastic bag on the counter.
She walked over to him and placed a hand on his lower back. “I didn’t know what your symptoms were. I bought everything to be on the safe side. What hurts? How do you feel?”
“Throat, headache, really tired.” He looked at the stove. “Hungry.”
“Under your tongue,” she instructed, holding up the new thermometer.
He complied. It beeped after ten seconds. “One hundred point four.” She scrunched her face. “Better than I thought, but not good.” She measured out two tablespoons of cherry-flavored cold-and-fever reducer medicine.
(Let’s get real: cherry was the only worthwhile flavor.)
Takumi raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. “Can’t I take these instead?” He pointed to the box of pills.
“No. This will soothe your throat now. You won’t have to wait for the medicine to disperse through your body. Those are for when you go back to work.”
He swallowed the medicine. “Ugh, that’s gross.”
“Don’t complain.” She set the medication timer for four hours. “Okay. Back to bed. Now.”
“But I want to watch you cook. For the safety of my security deposit.”
“I’m only a danger to myself when I cook, not property.” She glared, passing him to go to the bedroom. After setting the drinks down, she straightened the bed, adjusting the blankets and pillows.
Takumi touched Alice’s back, and when she stood up straight, he hugged her. His hold was weak, he swayed a little, and she held on to him to keep him upright, before guiding him back to bed, pulling the covers up around him.
“How long are you staying?”
“As long as you need help, I guess?” She sat facing him. “I can spend the night, but I work tomorrow, so tell your body to hurry up.”
“I don’t feel as bad as yesterday.”
“Good. I’m gonna go check the soup. Do not get out of that bed. Call if you need something.”
The timer had two minutes left. She gave the soup one last swirl. It had the perfect consistency and smelled exactly how chicken noodle soup should smell. Elated, she grabbed a bowl, spoon, and another makeshift tray for Takumi to set on his lap. She scooped out two portions, making sure to get plenty of chicken in each.
He sat up in bed, his back against the headboard with his eyes closed.
“Ta-da! Chicken noodle soup,” she said, setting the tray down.
“Getting up took all my energy,” he said. “I’m too tired to lift my arms. Can you feed me, please?”
