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Shifting my weight on my feet, I return his smile, although the apology in mine is a bit different. Silence momentarily hangs heavily between us before I step out of the way, making room for him to step inside my home. "I don't know if what I have is contagious, so I'm not sure if you want to come in or not."
"Nothing could keep me away from you," he says softly as he stares at me for two prolonged heartbeats. Leo steps through the doorway, kicking his shoes off in the foyer. "I'll take my chances with getting sick."
My plush socks slide across the floor as I close the door and lock it behind us. Leo follows me through the foyer and into the kitchen, but he holds his arm out to stop me as I go to reach for a drawer. "Go get comfortable on the couch and I'll bring you everything."
"I can't ask you to do that for me, Leo."
"You're not asking," he says with a sly grin and mischief dancing across his expression. "Let me take care of you, Aria."
I'm torn between not wanting him to feel obligated and wanting to let him. The last thing I want him to do is think I'm taking advantage of his kindness, especially after what happened yesterday morning. I'm not even sure I deserve his kindness at this point.
"Okay," I reply softly before padding across the floor, back over to where my spot is on the couch. Sitting down, I tuck my legs in and pull the quilt back over my body. My back rests against the cushion and I have the perfect view of my kitchen as I watch Leo move around the room like it's where he belongs.
He pulls a container from the brown paper bag and sets it on the counter. Confusion washes over my face as I watch him pull out multiple containers, all filled with various vegetables.
"I thought you said you brought soup?" I ask him as he lays everything out.
His gaze lifts to mine, his eyes shimmering under the lights as he stares at me from across the room. "I did," he says with a shrug. "Well, I brought everything to make soup."
My heart skips a beat in my chest and I'm at a loss for words. He goes back to busying himself in my kitchen and I stare at him in awe. As if bringing me soup wasn't enough, he brought everything to make it. I don't know the last time I've had home-cooked soup when I was sick. I roll through the memories in my brain and realize the answer is never.
Leo isn't familiar with anything in my kitchen and a slow smile pulls across my lips as I watch him opening various cabinet doors, looking for pots and bowls. He isn't struggling, but he's opening all the wrong doors. My lips part, a soft laugh escaping me before I finally interject to assist him.
"They're over in the—" I start to say but he lifts his hand to silence me.
"Let me find it myself," he tells me with a wink. "I'm trying to memorize where you keep everything."
I tilt my head to the side with curiosity lingering in my voice. "For what?"
"So I know where to find things next time."
Good Lord.
The air leaves my lungs in a rush as my heart drums harder against my rib cage, threatening to break through. I'm left speechless again, unsure of what this life is that I'm living. I tried to push him away in an effort to protect myself and here he is, knocking down every wall possible. He refuses to be shut out and I would be lying if I said I wasn't happy about it.
I always knew Leo didn't like to lose, but I didn't know the same concept would apply to me as well.
He looks like this is exactly where he belongs as he stands by my stove, stirring all the ingredients as he makes me soup.
He looks like he's at home… and maybe he is.
Maybe this is exactly where he belongs.
With me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
LEO
Spooning out a generous helping, I fill Aria's bowl with the homemade vegetable soup and set the ladle on the paper towel on the counter. I grab a spoon and slide it through the steaming liquid before walking across her kitchen and into the living room.
Aria's sitting on the couch, not bothering to watch the TV—opting to watch me instead. There's a little hop in my step, the excitement dancing in my veins as I see a smile lifting her lips as I reach her.
"For you," I say softly, handing it to her. I fight the urge to toss the soup onto the floor and pull her to me.
"Thank you," she practically whispers as she shifts on the couch, motioning for me to sit with her as she takes the bowl in her hands. Her eyelids flutter closed and she looks content as she inhales the steam drifting from the soup. "It smells amazing."
I shrug, suddenly feeling nervous under her watchful gaze. "It's nothing. It was my grandmother's recipe."
