Page 70 of Make Mine Sweet
“I should have predicted that,” he says.
I glance at him as I take a sip. Mmm. Perfect. “What?”
“That you like it sweet.” He sounds amused and maybe a little fond.
A weird thing for me to pin on a man for noting my coffee preferences. Definitely the effects of having him in my space before the sun has even crested the mountain peaks. While he’s wearing sweatpants and an old T-shirt that looks oh-so soft and touchable.
I take another sip of my coffee before I give in to the urge. “You should see my order at Perk Me Up. White chocolate, milk chocolate, whipped cream, and a splash of vanilla.”
“Does it have any coffee in it?”
“I’ve never asked.”
His mouth tilts again into that not-quite-smile I’m growing addicted to. For a minute, we just watch each other over our mugs, drinking our coffees.
August pushes his chair away from the table, reminding me what I’m meant to be doing before I get too swoony over my guest. Although, I guess for the next few days, Ian’s not strictly a guest. He’s an unpaid caregiver. I offered him money for his time yesterday, but that brought his scowl back, so I dropped it. I’ll find some way to make it up to him eventually.
For now, I go into business mode and get out August’s medical kit. I show Ian the apps that monitor his blood sugar and insulin dosing. The juices and snacks in the fridge. How to track the food August eats, and menu suggestions for lunch. What to do if he needs to verify blood sugar levels with a finger prick. The emergency medication in case he goes hypoglycemic.
I look at everything I’ve laid out for him, the apps and monitors and emergency kit andlengthynote.
“This is a lot. Isn’t it?” Maybe too much.
Yesterday, when Ian said that August’s diabetes isn’t a problem, my heart puffed up with unfettered hope. I didn’t realize how much I’d needed someone to say those words. I want to trust him that it’s really no big deal, but aside from the women at daycare, I haven’t left August with anyone outside of Mom and Wren. They would understand if I called right now and told them the daycare had to close temporarily. I don’t have to force this on Ian.
“Tess.” He tilts his head closer until I meet his eyes. “I’ve got this.”
His deep voice settles the wave of anxiety in my stomach. He holds my gaze, his entire demeanor speaking to his confidence. He’s not afraid for me to hand over the reins. Not because he doesn’t understand the risks, but because he knows he can take care of whatever comes up.
And I thought seeing him shirtless got me going. Competent and in charge? Oof.
“You’re right. You’ve got this.” I really need to leave before I put on a sultry voice and ask him to tell me more about his medical certifications. I didn’t know that would do it for me, but on Ian, it works.
He nods, stepping backward. “We’re going to have a great day. Aren’t we, August?”
August hops around in the living room, apparently doing an interpretive dance to show his excitement about spending the day with Ian. It’s mostly butt wiggles.
“So great!” he confirms.
I join him and kneel on the rug. “I have to go to work, buddy. Have a good time with Ian and Dutch, okay?”
“Okay.” He gives me a huge hug, then squeezes my face in his hands. “I’m going to show him my Legos!”
Just like that, he’s gone. Probably to find the latest spaceship he made or the mini figure he assembled that looks like him. It’s got blond hair, a dinosaur on his shirt, and we painted white dots on the back of each arm for his monitor and pump.
“At least he doesn’t drag out the goodbyes,” I say as I stand again. “Legos are obviously fine, and he’s got loads of other toys in his room. Art supplies are in the linen closet by the bathroom. He can watch PBS Kids if he wants. We have movies in the cabinet.”
Ian steps closer, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. “I figured we’d watch eitherToy StoryorPredator.”
I flatten him with an unimpressed look. “Ha ha.”
“They’re pretty much the same movie.”
“I can’t imagine which version ofToy Storyyou watched.”
“They’re both about friends banding together against a common enemy.”
I consider that grossly oversimplified summary. “Isn’t every moviePredatorwhen you define it like that?”
