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Ping!
A message popped up on my phone.
Ryan: Are you awake?
Me: Yeah. But there’s someone at my door.
The thought of an intruder right now genuinely frightened me. I was too sick to fend them off.
Me: I don’t know who it is. Can you stay on the phone until they go away?
I wanted to be smart about the situation in case it was someone looking to get in.
Ryan: It’s me. I’m at your door.
What?
My heart pounded in my chest and it gave me just enough adrenaline to kick off the comforter and make my way down the hallway. A sheer curtain covered the two narrow windows on either side of the door, but I could make out a dark figure outside.
I checked the peephole.
He really was outside my door. I slid back the lock and opened the door.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked. My voice sounded more relieved than curious.
He raised his hand, which held a white plastic bag. “I brought you some soup, dinner rolls, and mashed potatoes. Oh, and a coffee, but that’s in the car.”
Bless this man!
I opened the door wider. “Come in, come in.”
I finally realized that I must look like hell. “Excuse me for a minute.”
I stumbled to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. Oh, this was bad. Really bad. My hair was a mess, my face was pale and a quick breath check told me something must have died in my mouth. I brushed my teeth for five whole minutes, using mouthwash and floss, and ran my fingers through my hair.
I couldn’t do much about the sweatpants and sweatshirt I wore since I was in the bathroom, but a quick sniff check assured me it wasn’t too bad.
Ryan stood at my kitchen counter, pouring two glasses of orange juice. I groaned inwardly. He must have seen how bare my refrigerator was. Other than orange juice, there was nothing else to drink but milk. I hadn’t had a chance to go grocery shopping yet.
He had set the table for me and had poured the soup inside a bowl. It was still steaming. “Thank you,” I said, inhaling the warmth as I smelled the soup. “Is it chicken noodle?”
“It is. My brother recommended a place that made homemade soup to go. He’s the chef in the family. I asked him to make it but he told me that would take hours so he recommended a place instead. I hope it tastes good.”
I took a spoonful and moaned at the delicious flavors coating my mouth. “This tastes wonderful,” I said and greedily took another spoonful. And another until I’d finished the soup in less than three minutes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask if you wanted some.”
He smiled. “I’m fine. And I can’t tell you how satisfying it was watching you finish your soup. How about some mash?” He pushed a plateful of mashed potatoes toward me and this time I had enough manners to grab another plate to share with him.
But he waved me to sit back down. “I’m good, Laura. I’ve eaten.”
With my belly full and my body feeling a lot better at having been refueled, I leaned back in my chair and stared at Ryan.
What the hell was I doing? Why did I push this man away? I’d told myself that he was all wrong for me and that this couldn’t work, yet here he was in my kitchen, taking care of me. Maybe I was completely wrong about him. Maybe there was more to Ryan than I’d imagined. Maybe…
“Ryan?” I looked up to find him on his phone. “Who are you calling?”
“My personal assistant.” He held up a finger. “Sarah? Yes. I need you to pick up a few things at the pharmacy and the grocery store and bring them to this address. I’ll text you the list. Thanks.”
“Is that list for me?”
