there in the hideous green lounge, in the middle of the bulbous, varnished-to-orange coffee table, was a jar stuck full of crabapple branches crowded with sweet-scented pink blooms.
Haphazardly arranged, with no possible kind of talent.
He’d cut me flowers. The only pretty flowers he could find.
There was a note propped against the jar. Not a beautiful card, or anything like that. A piece of computer paper, folded over, with my name scrawled on the front.
I unfolded it.
Sorry, I read. I was a dickhead. Thanks for helping me anyway. I love you.
I looked up, and he was in the doorway. Arms folded, ankles crossed. Shorts and T-shirt and muscle and frown. Trying to make this casual, like it didn’t matter.
I set my note down and asked, “How are you?”
“Better,” he said. “OK.”
“Bit shaky?” I asked.
“Yeh. Think I slept about twelve hours. I made us veggie breakfast bowls, though. Just poaching the eggs now.”
I said, “Quick shower, and I’ll be down to eat it.” I started to walk to the stairs, then doubled back, picked up my note, and took it with me.
Too much emotion. Shutting down.
Five minutes, and I was downstairs again in my dressing gown.
Hard things are possible. Step by step.
I walked straight into the kitchen, and straight into Gray’s arms. They came around me tight, and I leaned all the way into him, let myself feel all the warmth and security of that rock-solid comfort, and said, “Could we just do this a minute?”
“Yeh,” he said, and there was a catch in his voice. “Yeh.”
We did it for more than a minute. And he didn’t say anything at all, just waited until I stepped back and said, “All right. I’m ready.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “Sounds like you’re about to face the firing squad. It won’t be as bad as that, surely. Not if we love each other.”
Whoa. I took a step back, and he said, “Somebody told me to eat first,” grabbed two plates from the oven, where they must have been staying warm, and took them to the dining room. He said, “Tea,” and went back for it, then sat down beside me.
I said, “You cooked.”
“It’s been known to happen.”
“It looks good.”
He laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised. It took twenty minutes. Easy nutrition.”
It was more than that. It was a pile of tender, browned slices of sweet potato in the center, surrounded by heaps of sautéed crimini mushrooms, crispy kale, and red cabbage topped by two poached eggs. A spoonful of hummus to one side, some avocado oil and balsamic vinegar drizzled over all of it, and buttered Vogel’s toast. I said, “I had no idea you could do this.”
“Well, you see,” he said, “I had no choice but to learn. I haven’t had a beautiful, loving woman to cook me something delicious, and be better to me in general than a grumpy bugger deserves.”
I said, “Oh,” past the lump in my throat. I forked up some cabbage, then set my fork down and said, “I was trying to help.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t think you were safe.”
“I know. You may have been right.”
I said, “I’m more than a pretty face handing out meds. I can evaluate a person with a problem. It’s my job.”
“Daisy.” His hand came out to cover mine. “I knew you were right. I knew I was too ill, that I wasn’t fit. That’s why I lost my temper.”
“And swore at me,” I put in.
“Yeh. And swore at you. Not forgivable, but I’m asking you to forgive me anyway. I’ve been … running scared, maybe. Too much on my plate, and not handling it as well as I should. So caught up in the day-to-day that I don’t stop to find a better way. I’ve got this meeting today, and I’m worried about that, too. And I’ve been distracting myself with sex instead of facing the things I need to face.”
I took my hand away. “I’m a … a distraction? That’s what this is?”
“No.” His eyes were intense. Honest. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. But I’m not used to this much emotion. I do it alone. I always have. That’s another thing I haven’t looked at straight on, maybe. What we’re doing here. How I feel about you. Being afraid …” He took a breath and went on. “That I can’t keep all these balls in the air. That I’m too far behind on the jobs, that I’ve bitten off too much. That you can’t love a man