Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Listen, don’t do anything with that bill yet. I’ll talk to administration,” I offer immediately. “I’m sure I can get them to knock it down.”
Frankly, there’s a good chance I can get Dr. McCormick to write off Grant’s surgery as pro bono. And if I can’t, I’ll anonymously pay some of it. I know Sammy’s doing well for herself at the restaurant, but she’s still a single mom on a budget in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure this isn’t another thing on her already-full plate.
“Thank you. Seriously. I…I don’t know how I’m going to handle all of this, but I will.”
“I’ll help. Anytime you let me.”
“Be careful saying that. I may just overwhelm you.”
“Well, that works out perfectly because I’m looking to be whelmed a lot more than I currently am.” I flash a wink at her. “I’m sadly underwhelmed, to be honest.”
“Oh, c’mon, Noah.”
“What? I’m a single guy in my forties. My only responsibilities include my job and my dog. And we both know Dolly gives zero hassle. I could use a little more difficulty in my life, you know? It’s character building.”
Sammy chews at her bottom lip before waving toward the bag of food. “Well, if you’re going to stay, the least I can do is heat up the food you brought so you can sit down and eat.”
I smile. “I didn’t bring it for me. I brought it for you and the boys.”
“Yeah, well, Seth is passed out with whatever viral torture we’re dealing with right now, and about an hour ago, Grant decided to go lie in bed too. I’m praying he isn’t getting sick, but I’ll just say, he’s not prone to taking naps without beating me over the head with a proverbial club first. Needless to say, I’m going to need some help eating it.”
“You could save it for—”
“Noah, don’t make me eat alone!”
“What I meant to say was…of course,” I agree on a chortle. “Pass the soup.”
Sammy’s laugh is refreshing.
“Seriously, though. Go sit down,” I say and step forward to place my hands on her shoulders and turn her body toward the living room. “I’ll get everything heated up and bring it out to you. I know you’re exhausted.”
“Bone-weary would be putting it lightly,” Sammy admits guiltily. “But I didn’t let you in so you could wait on me while I sit on the couch.”
“Ah, but that is why I came in. So let me do it.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and I respond by pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“Go sit down. I’ve got this.”
She finally shrugs and heads for the couch while I round the counter and pull out the large container of chicken noodle soup and the bread bag filled with a loaf of sourdough.
I set the oven to preheat so I can warm up the bread and put a pan on the stove for the soup. Sammy’s head lolls back on the couch, and instead of talking, I try to move around as quietly as I can. Her exhaustion is written all over her pretty face. Catering to me is the last thing I want her to feel like she needs to do.
“Did you end up taking Dolly to Brooke’s today?” she asks, but her voice sounds drowsy as she shifts her body to a more upright position on the couch.
“Nah.” I shake my head. “She ended up hanging with me all day. Though, I’m sure she was disappointed about missing out on her Benji fix.”
“I’m pretty sure Brooke tried to call me earlier, but I was too deep in the vomit trenches to answer.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand,” I answer softly.
“I bet the little matchmaker was disappointed we didn’t make it to the game,” she replies again, her voice fading with each word.
I don’t reply this time, allowing her the minute I think she needs to give in to the fatigue while I stir the soup on the stove. By the time the oven beeps with a preheat notification, all motion from the living room has ceased to exist.
It only takes one quick glance toward the couch to know that Sammy is out like a light. No longer sitting up, she’s horizontal on the sofa, and her eyes are firmly shut.
Looks like she’ll be eating this later.
I shut off the oven and the stove, putting the soup in the fridge and the bread in its bag, and tiptoe into the living room. Sammy’s breaths make her chest rise and fall in soft and steady waves, and I grab a cream afghan from the basket near the coffee table to cover her up.
Seeing her sleeping so peacefully like this makes my chest feel light and airy, and without hesitation, I post up in the large chair near the television and pull my phone out of my pocket to check in on my sister—sending Mary a text asking, How was Kara today?