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“I haven’t been hungry.”
“Have you at least been drinking something?”
“I’ve been trying.”
Bailey went to the fridge and came back with a bottle of lemon-lime Gatorade. She cracked the cap and put it in Nicole’s hand. “Start with that. I’ll go heat up the soup.”
The first sip was so cold it hurt going down, and then it felt so good she took another.
“You should be in bed,” Bailey said.
“I’ve been in bed all day. I needed a change of scenery.”
“The couch is a change of scenery?”
“It is when you’re dying.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “Fine. Stay out here, drama queen. I’ll bring it to you.”
Nicole settled back against the pillows. In the kitchen, the stove clicked on, and a cabinet door bumped closed. Bailey didn’t have to hunt for a thing. She knew which cabinet had the bowls and which drawer had the ladle, since she’d put them there herself. Nicole watched her lift the lid and give the soup a stir, then looked back at the TV before Bailey could catch her staring.
God, she’d missed this. Drew was here almost every night now, and she wasn’t complaining. But this was Bailey, moving around the kitchen they’d stocked together like she’d never left it. It had only been three weeks since she moved out. With all those unanswered calls stacked on top of it, it felt like a lot longer. She could ask about all of it after she ate. Or tomorrow, when talking didn’t make her cough and sitting up straight didn’t feel like an accomplishment.
Right now, her best friend was here, and that was enough.
She stretched out with the Gatorade wedged against her side and tried to follow whatever Sonny was so upset about. She lost the thread every time her eyes drifted shut, but she could still hear the TV, and the clink of Bailey’s spoon against the side of the pot. After a while, the smell of chicken and onions and something with thyme in it made its way into the living room. For the first time all day, food sounded like something she might actually want.
Nobody made soup like Bailey. Nicole had missed that too.
Ricki Lake was on by the time Bailey came out with a bowl. Nicole pushed herself up, pulled the throw across her lap, and took it with both hands.
“Careful, it’s hot.”
“It smells so good.”
Bailey moved the Gatorade from beside Nicole to the coffee table, put a napkin next to it, then sat at the other end of the couch with one foot tucked under her.
The first spoonful was mostly broth, salty and rich and hot enough to clear her head a little. The second had chicken and egg noodles in it. It was so good she had to close her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “For real.”
“You’re welcome.”
For a while, neither of them said anything. Nicole ate slowly, taking sips of Gatorade in between. Bailey was facing the TV, but she couldn’t seem to sit still. She switched which foot was tucked under her. She smoothed her palms down her thighs, folded her hands in her lap, then unfolded them and picked at a thread on the cushion.
Nicole noticed. She just didn’t know what to do with it yet.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so MIA,” Bailey said.
Nicole lowered her spoon. Now that Bailey had finally brought it up, she didn’t want to come at her with every question she’d been saving except for one.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Bailey nodded, looking down at her hands.
Okay, maybe two questions. “Are we okay?”
That brought her eyes up. “Yeah, Nikki. Of course we are.”
“Okay.” Nicole waited. “So what’s been going on with you?” Nicole didn’t believe for one second that everything with Bailey was okay. But she wouldn’t push. Yet.
