28. Eliza
ELIZA
The first day of my period was the worst. Absolute and utter hell.
My back ached, I couldn’t shake a stubborn migraine, and a stabbing pain had me curling up every few minutes as I lay on the couch under a pile of blankets with all the blinds closed. If I wasn’t on my period, I’d think I was turning into a vampire.
Safe to say there was no way I’d make it into work tonight, and I’d already called Wes to take a sick day. When I offered to call Louise to see if she’d be able to take my shift, Wes promptly stopped me and said he would take care of it. That all I needed to do was rest.
Leo and I had plans to hang out after work, but I didn’t think I’d be any fun with how I was feeling—and sex was the last thing I was in the mood for.
Me
I’m feeling like shit and taking a sick day. Rain check on our plans?
His response was nearly immediate.
Leo
Of course. Want me to bring you soup?
I smiled and typed out a reply.
Me
No, I’m good. Just that wonderful time of the month that makes me want to curl up and never see the light of day.
I pressed send and groaned, those few seconds of staring at my phone screen causing the backs of eyes to pulse and my migraine to flare.
I was minutes—maybe seconds—away from clawing my eyes out.
I locked my phone, set it on the coffee table, and tossed back two ibuprofen pills with water.
I curled up on the couch, hoping that sleep would magically solve all my problems.
I wasn’t sure how long I was out. I couldn’t tell if the sun was still out or if it was night time. Or if it was even the same day.
There was a steady pounding in my head, like a knocking, and a muffled, “Eliza?” in the distance. I groaned and rubbed my eyes, slowly sitting up. A text notification popped up on my phone, and I reached for it, seeing Leo’s name.
Leo
At your door. You home?
If you’re home and sleeping sorry if I woke you up with the knocking.
Or with this text.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I set my phone back on the table. I slowly made my way over to the front door and pulled it open. “Did you seriously just triple text me?” I asked with a grin. A grin that always seemed to appear when I saw him.
“I was about to text you a fourth time making sure you’re still alive in there.
” He pocketed his phone in his jeans. “Hey, Trouble.” He leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to my temple before stepping inside and letting himself in.
He went straight to the kitchen, setting a paper bag on the counter.
“Didn’t I text you?” Or had I hallucinated that? I was even more confused as he started to pull out salmon, sweet potatoes, lemons, and kale, along with olive oil and seasonings.
“You did,” he said simply, eyes flicking to me.
“Right,” I drawled. “And didn’t I say you didn’t have to bring me soup?”
“You did,” he repeated. “Which is why I didn’t bring you soup.”
I huffed at his remark and smoothed down my messy hair, trying to tame what likely resembled a bird’s nest. “I bet I look like a mess,” I grumbled, not even wanting to look in the mirror.
Leo’s expression softened as he made his way over to me, gently tipping my chin up. “You look absolutely beautiful, like always.”
My stomach flipped at his words, which were so simple, yet I knew they were genuine from the look in his eyes. I didn’t think I’d ever had someone look at me with such care and tenderness.
“Are you feeling any better?” he asked.
I didn’t have the opportunity to answer his question because the cramping pain was back—or never really left. I swore under my breath, leaning on the kitchen counter.
My migraine was for the most part gone, at least. I’d take that as a win.
Leo took a step closer, setting his large, warm palm against my lower back, grounding me in a way only he could. “Why don’t you go lie down,” he suggested while moving his palm in soothing circles.
I mumbled a response neither of us could make out but started to trudge over in the direction of the couch.
“In bed.” Leo’s voice was both gentle and firm.
As much as I wanted some sort of witty comeback about how he couldn’t tell me what to do, I knew he was right.
“But my blankets.”
“I’ll bring them over to you. Go get comfortable.”
I nodded, and within minutes, I was under the covers. I was half-asleep when I felt the added weight and coziness of the blankets—and a much too tender kiss to my forehead.
I was in and out of sleep, but it didn’t feel as long as my last nap. I think I felt better, but it was also hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. Except my growling stomach—that was very much real.
Unsurprisingly, I’d forgotten to eat today between the rounds of cramps and naps, which likely didn’t help. I sat up slowly and inhaled, smelling what I thought was salmon, lemon, and vegetables. The very ingredients Leo had brought.
The lamps were on in the open kitchen and living room but none of the overhead lights, which eased the tension behind my eyes. I slowly took in the sight in front of me. Containers of steaming food and a spotless kitchen.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Leo looked up from wiping the counters. His voice was soft and gentle, like a warm embrace I never wanted to stop.
“Better, I think.” I peered into the food containers. “What’d you make?”
“I assumed you hadn’t eaten today and wanted to make sure you at least had dinner when you woke up.
I made you lemon salmon with sautéed kale and roasted sweet potatoes.
Pretty simple, but I looked up the best foods for period cramps.
Salmon is supposed to reduce inflammation, sweet potatoes are good for muscle relaxation, and leafy greens should help with cramp relief. ”
Tears burned the backs of my eyes.
Leo had likely left work early to get groceries and cook me dinner. He had researched what foods might make me feel better.
I quickly looked away from him, my attention going back to the food. “Thank you,” I said softly. “You…you really didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
I turned toward him, willing the emotion that was burning behind my eyes to go away. “You shouldn’t want to,” I whispered. “You shouldn’t be taking care of me.”
“Why not?” Leo wrapped an arm around my waist, his hand splaying on the small of my back. Grounding me.
Because we’re not supposed to be anything.
Because we started as casual.
Because this is supposed to be just sex.
I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I took the easy way out and plastered on what I hoped was a convincing smile. “Because you worked all day and now are cooking more. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”
While that was true, it wasn’t what I was thinking at this moment. Leo’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and I wondered if he thought I was going to say one of the other many things in my mind.
“I told you—I didn’t feel like I had to. I wanted to, especially if it makes you feel better.”
“I can’t even thank you with sex. A blow job, maybe. Does that work?” I teased. Maybe making a joke or taking us back to how things started—no-strings-attached sex—would help curb the emotion clawing at my throat.
Leo let out a chuckle, cupping my face and running his thumb over my cheek. “Why don’t you thank me by eating dinner?”
“I can do that.” I nodded. That stinging behind my eyes was back, and I turned to face away from him, grabbing a bowl. I hesitated as I reached for another one. “Were you going to eat, too?”
“Do you want me to stay?”
His voice was farther away, and when I looked over my shoulder, I’d realized he’d taken a few steps back, giving me space. That was good. Space was good.
And yet I missed his warmth, his scent, his heartbeat.
When had that happened?
“I want you to stay.” And it was true.
“Here,” Leo said, taking the bowls from me. “I’ll get our food ready. Why don’t you throw something on the TV if you’re up for it, or we can just sit and eat.”
I nodded and made my way over to the couch, sinking into the cushions with a sigh of relief.
I decided against turning the TV on. My head felt better, but I didn’t want to push it.
Leo was over not long after and handed me the bowl and a fork before sitting next to me.
I leaned against his side, eagerly getting a forkful.
The rich flavors from the bright citrus and rich salmon burst on my tongue.
“Good?” Leo asked after my first bite.
I looked up at him, nodding. “Really good. I don’t have salmon often. Gran tried to cook it once years ago, and we ended up ordering pizza that night. Pretty sure the house smelled like fish for a week, too.” I laughed at the memory.
“I’m glad you were willing to give it another shot.”
“Oh, of course,” I said, like it was a no-brainer. In a way, it was. “I’ll try anything you make for me. Your food is my favorite.”
I didn’t think I’d ever seen Leo smile that wide.