Chapter 7 Lincoln #2
“You should take another sip,” she’d said, a devious smirk dancing on her face.
“This water is hot, babe.”
Her smile spread even brighter. “But, babe, you love warm water. I keep telling you it’s weird. And you say you like it hotter than hot.”
The medication kicked in, the thundering inside my head lessening, and her smile blurred.
I couldn’t tell if she was teasing, her brown eyes alive with a glimmer I couldn’t quite read.
I searched for any clues on her face, but I couldn’t decide.
Maybe I truly was an idiot who drank his water hotter than hot.
“Lay with me.” My eyelids drooped, heavy and burning.
She stiffened, shaking her head. “I’d be uncomfortable.” When I arched my brow, she added. “Since you can’t remember.”
“What if I’m uncomfortable my girl won’t sleep next to me?” I tried to smile, but the medication had worked too quickly, sleep tugging at me.
I glanced at her one more time, fighting to stay awake, her brows pinched.
She hesitantly opened her mouth, her gaze sharp, the response dancing on tip of her tongue as it darted behind her front teeth.
Then the gleam in her eyes softened, her tongue retreated, shifting gears mid-sentence.
“Sleep,” she whispered. “I’ll keep an eye on you. From the armchair.”
Before she could stand, I placed my hand on her thigh, and rather than relaxing, she sat there ramrod, her breath shallow and sharp, and sleep pulled me under ’til I woke to the empty bed.
It was cute, her keeping me at bay, drawing these lines. She knew me, though, and shouldn’t be surprised I wasn’t going to go for it. I drew my own lines.
I headed toward the bathroom. Black and white from floor to ceiling surrounded me—matter and efficient in a corporate sort of way. Boring.
Without thinking much about it, I shaved, but all the products in the cabinets were men’s. No makeup, lotion, or even a toothbrush sitting next to mine. Nothing you’d expect to find in the bathroom of a guy with a long-term girlfriend.
A light throbbing pulsed behind my temple as I tried conjuring memories of Nina.
No swaying this time. Progress. Something was off.
She’d flinched, she’d braced for what I’d say, avoided my touch.
Whatever our normal was, it left this beautiful woman, who closed blinds and held my hand, in constant knots around me.
Dressed in dark-washed jeans and a pale-blue polo, I found Nina moving about in the kitchen, opening and closing different drawers until she found a serving spoon.
She slid it under a heap of steaming scrambled eggs, tilting it just enough for the folds to tumble onto a plate.
Her hair was tied high on her head, stray waves, black as midnight, resting against the curve of her neck.
I knew the second she spotted me because her hand paused midair, shoulders tensing.
Once she resumed, I watched her graceful movements until she brought me a plate.
She perched on one of the stools and typed away on a MacBook that had seen better days, the casing scratched, half the keys faded. Her suitcase and duffel bag were tucked out of the way, by the wall, near the door. Everything packed away. Ready for a quick escape; she wasn’t planning on staying.
I rolled my head, neck and shoulders cracking. She froze, drawing my focus from her luggage. Her shoulders curved forward, closing around as if to shield herself. With a big puff of air, she pointed at my plate. Scrambled eggs and avocado toast my way. Her plate only had eggs.
“You need to eat something for your medication. How’s your pain level?” She assessed me. “Any dizziness?”
I leaned my head on my wrists, it felt heavier than it should. “Pulsing, more than pain,” I said. “A little bit of dizziness. Sometimes, things get blurry.”
Nina moved her computer to the side, then cupped my face, angling my head this way and the other.
“Does it get worse? The fuzziness?”
Her hands were soft, the palms slightly more wrinkled than you’d think.
There was this … unfamiliarity to it. When putting on my clothes and lying on my bed, a sense of habit settled over me.
Her hands on me, though …. No spark of recognition in my brain.
My hands shot out, and I cupped her cheeks, mirroring her touch.
The sensation was new … and so tender. Her hair brushed my knuckles, and her pulse drummed against my thumb.
She was in knots again. Anxiety overpowering softness.
I let go of her, shaking my head. “No, it goes away quickly.”
Her hands fell away from me, and she nodded, but her gaze stayed trained on my every move. “Eat,” she said.
I bit into the toast; the smooth avocado complemented the crunch of the bread.
It was delicious, until the spice hit. I coughed, heat searing my tongue before shooting up my nose.
Tears prickled in my eyes, and a bead of sweat formed at my hairline.
Nina’s palm tapped my back, even as her eyes gleamed like the night before.
I snatched the cup of water in front of me. Fucking hotter than hot water again.
“I’m sorry, babe,” she said, stressing the nickname as if it wasn’t an endearment at all. “You usually love lots of paprika on your toast. I hope I didn’t overdo it?”
I didn’t want to lose her warmth, I wanted keep her palm on my back.
So I swallowed the water and hummed in delight.
Then I took another bite, and the crunch of the toast was a fleeting relief against the relentless fire that made my eyes water and my stomach squirm.
“No, babe—” I coughed. “It’s just right. ”
I gave her a reassuring smile after I swallowed. She pulled her hand away from me, her eyes narrowing into slits. I wouldn’t make this gap between us bigger by refusing food she’d made for me. However, she was too focused on her computer to even acknowledge me.
With just a glance, I recognized the blue logo of the website she was on. “You’re looking for a job? What do you do?” I paused. “What do I do?”
Her shoulders stiffened and her spine straightened. I didn’t think bringing up our jobs would raise her hackle.
She moved her computer away from me, got up, and turned as she stepped away, jaw tensing.
“Yes, I recently lost my job.” She returned with three different bottles of medication and a whole new level of defensiveness in her tone.
“We’re both in marketing, you do graphics and design.
I do more SEO and campaigns. I mean, I have done both, but I prefer words and numbers. ”
“Infinity Weddings.”
Nina stopped halfway through lining up the bottles on the counter, her eyes flicking to me, still narrowed with suspicion.
“What about it?”
“It just came to me. Popped into my head. Do you know what it means?” I caught every twitch of her expression.
“I do,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek. “They’re one of your recent clients. They’re a big one. You led a very successful visual rebrand. Your team essentially won them over after a big oversight in m—another department.”
“It sounds like we worked on it together.” I laughed.
“We did.” The words dropped between us, sudden and loaded, shock piercing through me.
She looked past me, chin angled down. My stomach twisted in knots, my body privy to something my mind couldn’t catch up to. If we were a team …
“Why are you looking for a job if we got the client?”
She laughed ruefully. “Because word on the street’s I’m the person that fucked up half the presentation.”
She meant it as a joke, but her shoulders told a different story—tight and squared, bracing for more fallout. I had no idea how long she’d been out of a job. Was she living in that building because I hadn’t offered for her to move in before?
“I don’t understand, we’d—”
“Lincoln, please, it’s hard enough as it is.
I’m sure you’ll remember in time.” She exhaled heavily.
“Alright.” She tapped her palms on the counter.
“You need these two now.” Nina handed me two pills and a glass of juice.
Thank fuck, no water this time. “Anti-seizure and pain medication. You take them every morning—same time, no skipping. You can take more of these”—she tapped on the pain meds—“as needed, but no more than every six hours. At night, you’ll need another one of these.
” Then she tapped on the anti-seizure bottle.
“And this one for mood and sleep support.”
I studied her face as I swallowed them. It wasn’t just instructions for her—she had a condition.
She knew not to skip medication. My hand brushed hers when I reached out for one of the bottles.
She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean in either.
Her going over my meds was an act of service.
Now I knew her love language. I could work with this.
“You’re not here to baby me. I take care of you.”
She scoffed. “Sorry, Mr. Macho Man, but babying is exactly what the doctor ordered.”
I arched a brow. “And maybe the doctor ordered a good spanking for you so you know when to listen.”
And if there’d been any room for ambiguity before, there wasn’t now. Nina jerked back at my words before she schooled her features and laughed. “Well, if not for your need to be babied, I wouldn’t even be here, so let’s behave, yeah? We’re adults, after all.”
The cynicism in her laughter scraped at me.
She brushed my desire off like nothing. My pride burned off as fast as it’d flared the second she’d flinched away, and I forced my hands to unclench against my thighs.
So I swallowed the smart retort itching to get out, kept my eyes on the floor, and took a breath so she wouldn’t recoil from me.
“Anyway,” she added, moving on so quickly it gave me whiplash, “you shouldn’t be reading or watching TV. Light sensitivity will be an issue.” She handed me a pair of sunglasses. Pink leopard print. I traced the rugged edge of the rosettes on the frame, hoping they were at least hers.