Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(45)

“I was a little shocked when Corrine called me to cancel our meeting today, and I didn’t like the idea of my lawyer not being on his A game in a few days, so . . .” She shrugged and held up the bag again as she set it down on the kitchen counter.

“That was nice of you,” I said, my voice a croaked whisper. It was really f*cking nice of her.

“Where are your bowls?” she asked. I pointed at the cupboard behind her. “And your spoons?” I pointed at the drawer beside me. “And,” she glanced around once more, “I found your napkins.” She smiled at me. “Okay, your majesty, go lie down. I’ll be right there.”

I groaned and did as I was told, going back to my living room and putting my feet up. I covered myself with the Chargers blanket Estelle and Oliver had gifted me for my birthday last year and let my eyes drift shut. I jumped a little when I felt a cold cloth on my forehead, and my eyes popped open to find Nicole’s concerned eyes right beside my face.

“That feels good,” I said, groaning. I tried to smile but I wasn’t sure my lips were working.

“Your soup is getting cold,” she whispered. I tried to sit up, but kept failing, and then I felt her hands reach under me and heard her groan as she pulled me up.

“You’re strong,” I said, and felt myself smile when she laughed.

“I try.” She leaned down to pick up the bowl of soup and sat beside me. “Open your mouth.”

“You’re going to feed me?” I don’t know why I was so taken aback by her gesture.

“You don’t look like you’re in any condition to feed yourself. Unless you want me to call your brother-in-law and have him put in an IV?”

My eyes widened. Did she know I hated needles? Had I told her that before? I frowned and asked her. She laughed.

“I didn’t, but I’m glad I know now.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” I said, opening my mouth to drink some soup. I closed my eyes. It was so good. “Did you make this?”

“Is it good?”

My gaze met hers. “Did you make it or not?”

She smiled and fed me another spoonful. “That really depends on whether or not it’s good.”

“It’s better than good.”

“Well, I didn’t make it,” she said, laughing. “My old housekeeper, Amelia, did.”

I nodded, swallowing the soup in my mouth. “Well, tell Amelia I may want to marry her.”

Nicole scowled, blinking away, her eyes trained on the soup. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” she said.

“Why?” I asked, opening my mouth for another spoon.

“I thought you didn’t believe in marriage.”

I frowned. “I never said that.”

She looked at me, one brow raised in a challenge.

“Okay, so maybe I said that, but I was a twenty-five-year-old idiot. People change.”

“Not that much,” she whispered.

“You did,” I said. “But you’re right, not that much. You were still willing to let me mount you the other day at my sister’s.”

She smiled. “Even if I had been willing to let you do that there, which I wasn’t, you wouldn’t have done it.” She paused. “So I guess people do change after all. Twenty-five-year-old Victor would’ve done that anywhere I asked him to.”

“Like I said, twenty-five-year-old Victor was a f*cking idiot.”

“You were pretty hot, though.”

“Still am,” I said.

She shook her head. “I think that fever is really getting to you.”

I laughed, but stopped short because it hurt. I closed my eyes as Nicole stood and got the plate of soup, taking it to the kitchen. I heard the water behind me, but couldn’t even tell her not to wash the plate. When I felt her presence near again, I opened my eyes. She had a glass of orange juice in her hand.

“You have to drink this,” she said. “And then you’re going to get up and shower.”

I groaned. “Is this your way of telling me I stink?”

“No.”

“Is this your way of getting me naked?”

She tried to stifle a laugh by pressing her lips together. “No.”

“Is this your way of getting me in the shower and having your way with me because you’d have to give me a bath since I’m so weak right now?”

She laughed. “No.”

I glanced up at her. She was so f*cking beautiful. I hadn’t really paid attention to the red dress she was wearing, or the way it curved out at her hips to accentuate her small waistline. I hadn’t noticed she’d worn her hair loose or the way it draped over her shoulders and covered her tits.

“You’re so f*cking beautiful,” I said before I could stop myself. Her eyes widened slightly. She took a seat across from me, placing the cup on her lap. From the way the orange liquid moved in the glass, I could tell her hands were shaking.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I don’t tell you that enough, but you are. I never told you that enough,” I said. “Before, I mean. Before I pushed you away and you married that f*cking *. I should have told you how beautiful you were.”

“Victor,” she whispered, “just . . . drink this.”