Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(11)

“I love you, too,” I whispered, closing the distance between us.

No other words were needed as we came together once more, claiming each other with silent promises, tender touches, and the moving melody of our souls.

“RISE AND SHINE, sleepyhead,” Jude called out from the hallway.

He appeared at the bedroom door with a large tray overflowing with food.

“Breakfast in bed?” I asked, rising up to take a peek at what he’d brought.

“Well, sort of. Since we didn’t quite get our Thanksgiving dinner experience last night, I thought we might try again.”

I frowned. “Please don’t tell me corn pudding and stuffing are on that plate, Jude. I might have eaten some weird things in my hospital days, but even they didn’t try to feed me dinner for breakfast.”

He smirked, setting the tray down beside me. I began to inspect the contents—as well as him.

“This doesn’t look half bad,” I said as my fingers bent down to check everything out. “But what is it?”

I looked up to Jude and found him grinning. “Well, I found a recipe for a leftover egg soufflé, and then I thought the mashed potatoes would be good, kind of like grilled pancakes.”

“But hardly any of this stuff was actually made, so they can’t really be considered leftovers, Jude.”

He just shrugged and started pouring a cup of coffee for me from the French press.

“How long have you been up?” I looked down at the feast before me, trying to contemplate how long it had taken him to make the individual dishes and then combine them into a soufflé.

“A while. I wanted you to have a Thanksgiving meal.”

I steadied his hand and watched his gaze meet mine. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”

After handing over a steaming cup of coffee, he disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned, he was ready to begin the not-so-pleasant part of the morning.

“Mood killer,” I complained.

“You know me—highly punctual and responsible,” he said, shaking the box of pills marked off by the days of the week.

“So sexy,” I retorted.

Although I had a new heart and was as healthy as I could be, I would never be able to outrun the pharmacist. Transplant patients, whether with a heart like mine or any other organ, had one major fear that ruled their lives—the possibility of rejection.

This heart now beating inside my chest was a stand-in, a counterfeit for the damaged sick one that I’d been born with. At any point in my life, my body could reject this perfect organ and this life. Everything I held so dear could be over in the blink of an eye.

Tossing my head back, I dutifully took my morning pills before diving into my breakfast. “Oh, wow. This is good.”

“Yeah?” he asked, scooping a chunk of cheesy soufflé onto his plate.

“Absolutely. And the mashed potato thingies . . . yum,” I said between bites.

He laughed at my enthusiasm as he dived into his own breakfast. The comfortable silence settled between us while we ate.

“Are you sure you’re okay with going alone today?” he asked after he’d set his plate back on the tray.

I was going back for seconds but nodded as I licked butter off my thumb.

“It’s just a checkup, Jude. I have them every month, which seems a bit of an overkill anyway.”

He ignored my comment about the frequency of doctor visits and sighed. “I know, but I always go with you.”

Briefly setting the plate down, I looked up at him. “I know, and I appreciate it, but go spend a little time with your mom. She doesn’t come into the city that often anymore. Take her to Bloomingdale’s and get some shopping done. I’ll meet you for lunch.”

He let out an audible shudder. “I can’t believe she chose this day. Of all the days to shop, she had to pick this one.”

“Maybe she wants a bargain?” I offered up as a reason his mother would drive into the city on Black Friday, the busiest shopping day of the year, to spend the day with her son.

“A deal? At Bloomingdale’s and Saks? I doubt that.”

“Well, maybe she just misses you. We did ditch her on Thanksgiving this year—and there is the little issue of Christmas.”

He rolled his eyes, rising from his spot on the bed, and he walked toward the closet. I took the time to appreciate his backside, covered only in boxers. He was just as handsome as the first day I’d met him—tall, muscular with a hint of danger swirling around those black tattoos angling down his arm.

“We did not ditch her. I asked if she wouldn’t mind if we had dinner here. She chose to stay in the country with friends.”

“I know. She told me, and she was actually excited about it. She said it was the first time she wouldn’t have to worry about planning a menu in years. Notice that I didn’t say cook.” I laughed.

“She never cooked, but she’d still make herself sick while planning every damn detail for the holidays. She wanted everything to be absolutely special for us.”

“And was it?” I asked, picking my plate back up to gobble up the last of my potatoes.

“Of course. She loved seeing us happy.”

“Runs in the family,” I said.

“Well, some of us,” he commented.

“Give him time, Jude. He might surprise you just yet.”