Page 104 of Finally Mine
In his kitty coma, Ivan snored against Aldo’s forearm.
Aldo chuckled softly.
“I thought that it might be nice for you to have someone—” Her gaze slid to the cat, adorably snuggled into him. “Something to talk to around the house. So you aren’t alone.”
He was watching her softly. “You talk to yourself,” Aldo observed.
She gave him a shy smile over the pie crust. “I do. I was my only company for a long time.”
He rose and crossed to her.
Aldo wrapped his free arm around her waist from behind. She leaned back into his chest and felt as content as the napping kitten.
* * *
For Gloria’s next intervention,she enlisted Mrs. Moretta’s help. Procuring the information she needed only cost her two-dozen peanut butter chip brownies and a car wash. It was worth it to get the necessary intel.
She carefully put the next steps of Operation Help Aldo Heal into motion via email and phone call.
57
“Aldo? Can you answer that for me?” Gloria called out from the kitchen. She was in the midst of a baking frenzy that smelled amazing and had banned him from the room unless he wanted to be enlisted. He only ventured in to make her a fresh cup of tea or to drag Ivan out of the bag of flour. Twice.
Her laptop had signaled an incoming video call. He didn’t feel right answering for her. “What if it’s your mother and I’m not wearing a shirt?” he yelled back.
“It’s not my mother, and you are wearing a shirt,” she reminded him. Reluctantly he clicked to answer.
“Doc Dreamy?” His flight trauma surgeon’s face filled the screen.
“How’s it going, lieutenant?” Her smile was warmer than it had been when he’d been a world away and on the brink. She’d come to visit him after surgery, and they’d talked on the phone when he’d been shipped off to Germany.
She’d saved his life. Kept him from bleeding out.
Seeing her now, grinning at him from a background with palm trees and turquoise water, gave him a new appreciation of where he was.
Gloria poked her head out of the kitchen with a sweet smile. The sneaky little woman had set him up.
“It’s going well,” he said, pulling up his pant leg to knock on his prosthesis.
“Very nice,” she commented.
“That doesn’t look like Bagram,” he said as a man jogged past her and dove into the surf.
“Still sandy,” she quipped. “I came home three weeks ago, cleaned off the inch of dust in my apartment, and then hopped on a plane here.”
He thought of all she’d seen as part of a forward surgical team. All the blood and loss. The trauma and the fear. “You deserve it.”
“I like to think so,” she said brushing off the compliment. “So how’s the healing going?”
“All healed up,” he insisted.
“You know, not all wounds are on the outside.”
Aldo’s gaze slid up to meet Gloria’s. His girlfriend was suddenly needed on urgent kitchen business and ducked away. He didn’t know how to feel about Gloria going behind his back to dig up the doc. Not trusting him to work through it on his own.
“Very subtle, doc.”
She shrugged nonchalantly and looked over her shoulder at the bluest swath of ocean Aldo had ever seen. “Look, just make sure you’re doing as much work for your mental state as you are your physical state, and you’ll be fine. That’s all I’m saying.”
