21. Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Vic
I feel mostly human again when I wake up, except for one thing: my stomach is so empty it feels like it’s eating itself. Tanner’s been in to check on me a few times and brought me more broth, which I’ve eaten, but now I want something with a little more substance. I get out of bed, heading to the bathroom first because I need to shower and brush my teeth and hair. I turn the water to scalding hot and scrub my skin of all the icky feeling of being sick. When I’m finished pulling myself together, I slip into some clean pyjamas and open my bedroom door.
The first thing I notice is the dining table completely covered in papers, and a laptop with a cord snaking away to the plug. Tanner’s cell phone is placed in the middle of a stack of papers next to the computer.
The next thing I notice is the smell. It makes my stomach growl, reminding me I’ve eaten almost nothing in twenty-four hours and whatever is cooking in the kitchen smells divine. I move to the pass through and sit on my usual chair.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Tanner says.
I arch a brow. “It’s not morning.”
He grins at me over his shoulder, not pausing in his stirring. “No. It’s after 3pm. How are you feeling?”
“Better. Hungry.”
He nods, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and ladling some soup into it. He sets it in front of me with a stack of crackers.
“I can’t take any credit for this,” he says. “It’s the second container of soup from Lis. I just heated it up.”
I pick up the spoon and eat without another word. Conversation can wait until after my stomach stops trying to break free of my body to consume the food in front of me. Tanner putters around the kitchen, tidying things up.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I ask when the soup is half gone and I’ve stuffed most of the crackers into my mouth.
“I ate lunch at lunchtime,” he says with a smirk. “I’ll eat dinner at dinnertime.”
Now that I have some food in me, I’m more able to think clearly. “You really stayed home all day?”
“Yeah. I brought my stuff, so it wasn’t a big deal.” He crosses his arms, leaning on them against the counter in front of me.
“How did Dad feel about that?”
Tanner shrugs. “I don’t really care. My wife was sick. I needed to be here.”
My heart clenches painfully at those two words: my wife . Every time he calls me that, it hits a little deeper. I don’t know why it feels so… right.
“Well, thank you,” I say, looking down at the soup.
He shrugs again and straightens, coming out of the kitchen. I glance over at him and do a double take. I hadn’t paid much attention to what he was wearing, but now that he’s in front of me, I see he has on a cozy sweatshirt and soft, grey sweatpants. And oh. My. God.
I turn back to my food quickly, trying to scrub the image of him in those fucking sweatpants from my mind. But it’s like it’s burned there indelibly. I keep seeing the outline of that dick. After our one night, I’d purposefully tried to forget how impressive it is, but I’m not forgetting now.
“I’m done with work for today,” he says, sitting next to me at the pass through. It takes all my willpower not to turn and ogle his pants again. “I figured we could relax on the couch, maybe watch a movie. I texted your friends. Spencer told me some of your favourites. And Derek mentioned a couple card games.”
“You don’t need to keep me company,” I say, glancing at him, forcing myself to meet his eyes and not look at him in his comfortable clothes. “You’ve been stuck here for a while, waiting on me hand and foot. You’re probably going stir crazy or something.”
“I’m exactly where I want to be, Vic. Finish eating. Do you want to watch a movie or play a game? I’ll get it set up.”
My stomach does this stupid little flip at his words and tears prick the backs of my eyes. He’s being so sweet and I’m still feeling a little gross, my emotions riding closer to the surface than I usually let them. I blink a few times, then clear my throat. “Movie,” I say, because he’s waiting for an answer. “I can’t do much requiring any amount of real thought at the moment.”
He chuckles and stands, and I can’t help it if my gaze drops to those pants again before I quickly turn back to my bowl.
“Sounds good,” he says. “I’ll get a few things ready.”
By the time I’m done eating and make my way to the couch, he has a romcom queued up and blankets ready for me to wrap around myself. I’m about to sit down when he tugs me next to him, letting me snuggle into his warm body. He covers me in the throw blanket I keep on my couch and presses play on the movie.
“We don’t have to watch this,” I tell him. “You’re probably not interested in a silly romantic comedy.”
“I haven’t seen this one,” he says. “So I have no idea if I’ll like it or not.”
“You wouldn’t rather see an action movie or something?”
He looks at me, pushing up his glasses when they slip down his nose. “I want to watch this movie. With you. Now be quiet. It’s starting.”
I’m overwhelmed by the sudden desire to kiss him. He’s taken such good care of me over the last day, making sure I have as much to eat as my stomach will let me, making sure I drink water and take Tylenol, making sure I’m not alone. And now he’s putting on one of my favourite movies, even though it’s not something he’d usually watch, simply because I like it.
I reach up and kiss him softly. It’s the same way I’d kissed him at the restaurant, but the difference is, I’m snuggled up next to him now. When I pull back, the way his dark eyes search mine, telling me just how much he wants to kiss me again, makes me want to let him.
But we’d agreed. Sex would complicate things. Not that I could have sex right now, anyway. Making out with him would complicate things just as much.
I clear my throat. “Thank you. For everything.”
He blinks and we each take a mental step back.
He grins. “Anytime you want to thank me, Vic, I’m here for it.”
It’s then I realize what he’s doing, being the ridiculous flirt to allow me the space I want. Can he read me so well that he knows when I’ve let him a little too close?
I laugh and roll my eyes, falling back on my habitual response, even if it’s a little flat this time.
I settle in next to him and focus on the movie. When it’s more comfortable to lean my head on his shoulder, I do. The way his arm holds me close, the way his hand rubs absently up and down my side, feels nice, and I don’t fight it when my eyes drift closed.
It’s not until much later that I wake with a start. The TV is showing a hockey game and Tanner is on his phone.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” he says.
“How long have I been asleep?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Long enough for the movie to be over. You barely watched half.”
“Sorry.” I sit up and he lets me go. I kind of wish he hadn’t.
“Don’t be. You’re cute when you snore.”
I give him an indignant look. “I do not snore.”
He just smiles. “I wanted to ask about this weekend. Do you still want to go to Whistler? Or do you want to cancel?”
An image flashes through my mind of Tanner and me, naked and sweating, tangled together. The image is part memory, part fever dream, because I’d definitely imagined him with me a few times during the hours of half-sleep.
“Um. Can I let you know tomorrow? Dad booked it, so I’m not worried if he can’t get a refund.”
Tanner chuckles and stands, stretching. “Sure. You want some more of that soup for dinner? I was going to order myself something and have it delivered. I could order you something as well if you want.”
My stomach grumbles like it had earlier. “Soup is better for right now. I can get it myself though.” I stand to do just that when he points to the couch.
“Sit down.” His tone brooks no argument.
I blink at him and do as he says.
He smiles. “Good girl. I will get you something to eat. You sit and relax. The remote is there if you want to change it to something else.”
He walks to the kitchen and I watch him go. Fuck if my insides didn’t go a little melty and my pussy didn’t get a little wet at those two words. Good girl . That, combined with those motherfucking sweatpants, has me aching.
As I’m turning back to the TV, considering changing the channel, my eyes snag on the china cabinet. There’s the paper flower on its green pipe cleaner that he’d given me years ago. He hasn’t mentioned it once since moving in. I hadn’t thought to move it until about a week after that and figured moving it then would just draw more attention to the fact that I kept it.
“Tanner?” I say.
“Yeah?”
I falter before I say anything else. He hasn’t brought up the flower. Maybe I shouldn’t either.
“Um. Maybe bread instead of crackers this time?” I say instead, but I’m still looking at that white paper rose, because now, sitting in the vase next to it is a red one.