Page 61 of One More Shot
‘Ready.’
We both lean forward and bring the glasses to our mouths. In one smooth gulp, the liquid is burning its way down my throat faster than any alcoholic drink I’ve ever tasted. Eliott splutters as she reels back, clapping her chest as she goes. ‘Ugh. Just as bad as I remembered.’ She leans back into the sofa and I follow, letting her flop her head onto my shoulder.
‘It was pretty rough,’ I cough, my throat still scratchy from the liquid. She shivers suddenly and I reach out for the blanket to drape it over her again. As I move, I brush against some exposed skin on her arm and, once again, feel that same heat I felt on her forehead. ‘Baby, you’re burning up.’
She groans and burrows further into the little nook by my shoulder. ‘Doesn’t feel like it. I feel cold.’
She wraps an arm around my waist and rests her head just below my heart. I wonder if she can feel it. The erraticthudsthat come from her being so close. If she can, she doesn’t say anything.
‘Why’d you call Nan?’ Eliott asks, her voice muffled by my own sweatshirt.
I tug the blanket over her and run my arm up and down her side. ‘Wanted to get the recipe for that soup you like.’
‘What soup?’ Her voice is tired and faraway, like she’s halfway to falling asleep already.
‘What did Gloria always make for you when you were younger and feeling sick?’ I ask.
She doesn’t answer right away and, for a second, I think she’s finally fallen asleep. But then she lifts her head and her eyes are watery. ‘Nan’s chicken and dumpling soup?’
I nod. ‘It probably won’t be as good as the original, but I followed her recipe as best I could.’
‘Dane.’ Her voice cracks and I can’t tell if it’s because of her cold or something else. ‘How did you—’ She cuts herself off and shakes her head. ‘I don’t even remember telling you about that.’
‘You mentioned it once,’ I say with a shrug. Two years ago, but still.
A range of emotions flit across her beautiful face before she settles on a soft smile. ‘Thank you.’ She tucks her headback into the nook underneath my arm and I tighten my hold around her side.
‘You don’t have to thank me.’
‘I know. But I wanted to.’
‘Want me to warm up your soup?’
‘Not yet,’ she murmurs, her fingers tracing soft circles on the fabric of my shirt. She drapes a leg over my thighs and I instinctively bring my hands up to knead at the soft skin. ‘Can we just stay like this for a little longer?’
Before I can think twice about it, I lean in and press a soft kiss against her temple. She doesn’t freeze. Doesn’t jerk away. Doesn’t tell me off for tiptoeing over the precarious boundary lines between us. She just snuggles in closer and rests her head above my heart.
‘Do you remember when you asked what are my favourite things to photograph?’ Eliott asks quietly.
‘I do.’
‘It’s moments like this,’ she whispers, her fingers still flexing against the fabric of my shirt. ‘The quiet moments.’
I thought I’d understood it before when we first spoke about it, but I’m looking at it with a new clarity now. Because I understand wholeheartedly what she means.
I want this moment to last forever.
‘You’re sureyoumade this?’ Eliott asks, her spoon hovering over her near-empty bowl. ‘You didn’t just strong-arm Nan into doing it for you?’
‘I’ll take that as compliment,’ I laugh, watching as she scoops up the last remaining droplets and shovels them into her mouth. ‘There’s more in the fridge for tomorrow. Probably about two or three more bowls’ worth.’
We’ve spent the last hour curled up on her sofa together. Eliott’s been drifting in and out of sleep and I finally managed to convince her to eat something before she heads upstairs to bed and I leave.
‘Tastes just like I remember,’ Eliott says with a wistful sigh. ‘Nan must really like you. She normally keeps all her recipes close to her chest. Once she joked that her recipe book will be my inheritance.’ She pauses and frowns. ‘I think she was joking, anyway.’
The fact that Gloria apparently likes me enough to part ways with a recipe shouldn’t send a jolt of joy shooting through me, but it does.
Eliott yawns suddenly, which quickly turns into yet another coughing fit, and I feel a sense of guilt. The whole point of me coming over was to take care of her and make sure she gets the rest she needs. Instead, she’s spent the whole time fighting sleep in order to stay awake with me.
