Page 57 of Hearts on the Table
He looked tired as he rummaged through the fridge. It was past ten, and he’d put in a long day. If memory served (andit did, I had his schedule memorized), he had to be up early tomorrow for back-to-back morning surgeries.
“Are you sure this is okay? You probably need sleep.”
“Really, I’m only planning on shoving some food in my face and then winding down. Please, stay.”
Well, when he practically begged me… “Some food, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Like…pizza or something?”
“Yes.” He didn’t skip a beat, closing the fridge and pulling a pizza out of his freezer. I was usually a pizza snob—I had very specific crust preferences—but a few small cheese plates and brownie bites did not a dinner make, and my stomach was rumbling.
“You planning on eating the whole thing?”
His mouth tipped up into a smile. “I could be persuaded to leave a few pieces behind.”
While it was baking, we talked about his day and his surgeries tomorrow and my wine night. He fed me pizza when it was ready. Later, he persuaded me into one of his massive shirts and told me in no uncertain terms that he would not be getting inside tonight. I yawned while I protested this. We went to sleep on soft cotton sheets, Sam’s arm wrapped around my middle and my head pressed against his chest.
Chapter 21
Lainey
It was dark when he woke me.
“Hey. I’m heading into the hospital,” he whispered, brushing a few hairs off my forehead. My brain felt a little fuzzy, but between the pizza and water Sam had poured into me, I was feeling better than expected after all the pinot.
“What time is it?” I was pretty sure I'd left my phone somewhere downstairs to fend for itself last night. Hopefully it had enough battery for me to call a car.
“It’s almost six. You should sleep in. Just didn’t want you to worry when you woke up alone.”
I smiled. It was warm under his covers, and smelled like Sam—like clean laundry and coffee and something else that I wanted to bathe in. And I got a few extra hours to wallow in it before I had to get up? Amazing. But…
“I can head out. I don’t want to creep around your house.”
He stroked my jaw, leaning in close. In the quiet darkness, with both of us whispering and the chill of early morning air teasing my nose, it felt like we were in our own personal bubble. A miniature snow globe that no one could intrude on.
“Feel free to creep. Your clothes are in the dryer. There’s a pitcher of decaf breakfast tea in the fridge.”
“You made me tea?” I’d stumbled into his house babbling like a tipsy wacko about him texting me more, and he repaid the favor by doing my laundry? The awe I was feeling must have leaked onto my face. He smiled down at me.
“I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a surgeon. Putting some tea bags into a pitcher is well within my skill set.”
“You have to add water, too.”
“Damn. Knew I forgot something.”
It wasn’t even six a.m. and he’d already made me laugh. Plus, I was still riding the high from my cathartic drinks with Tess and Jasmine. Was this a dream? Did most people wake up feeling this cozy and content in the morning?
“Is there anything I can do before I leave? I can throw the sheets in the wash?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, if you insist. I’ll just laze around here for a few hours enjoying my tea and snooping before I call an Uber.”
“Your car’s here.”
