He bent to pull the blanket over me.
I touched his face.
Reid stopped.
“Come closer.”
He leaned down.
I kissed him once.
Briefly.
“Date tomorrow.”
“If you feel well.”
“Date tomorrow even if I feel terrible.”
“Then we conduct it on this couch.”
“Food?”
“Yes.”
“No hospital soup.”
“Agreed.”
“Music?”
“Possibly.”
“No singing.”
“Unreasonable.”
“Your timing is offensive.”
He smiled.
“What kind of dates did we enjoy?”
“Quiet ones.”
“Good.”
“You preferred staying home.”
“That feels right.”
“We could cook.”
“With one hand?”
“You supervise.”
“I dislike supervising.”