Pennies for Him, Freedom for Me
I managed to drag myself up to stagger toward the kitchen, and I'd made it halfway there before my legs gave out, and I crouched on the floor, unable to get back up for a long time.
Presley saw me and frowned. "You're acting like a cold is going to kill you."
And now here he was, having learned to make shrimp bisque for me.
His timing was absolutely impeccable.
I didn't reach out to take the thermos. I simply looked at him and asked, "Does it do anything for you, showing up here every day like this?"
His Adam's apple bobbed, his voice hoarse. "I know you don't want to see me, but I genuinely don't know what else to do. Natalie, I want to make it up to you. I want to treat you right. I—"
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