Chapter 12

Monique was hovering nervously over me, and I felt I needed to try to calm her worries. “Monique, please relax. Chantel has given me my orders. I will behave, and I appreciate that you are here and able to help me,” I said as I reached for her hand and brought it to my lips for a kiss.

“Thank you, John. I know you are uncomfortable because I have expressed my feelings, and I promise not to push you before you are ready. We thought it best if I stay here in case you need help during the night. I can sleep in the guest room. Is there anything you need right now?” She asked.

“I think I need one of those pills the doctor gave me for pain. Could you get me some water to wash it down with, please? I said as I released her hand.

Monique rushed into the kitchen and soon handed me a glass. I fumbled, opening the pill bottle one-handed before Monique took it and promptly got it open. She gave me the pill as she blushed at my obvious annoyance at not managing on my own.

“John, this is why I’m here, to help with the day-to-day things you will struggle with. This isn’t permanent, so please let me help without getting mad at yourself.” She said forcefully.

As I took the pill, I mentioned to Monique that the doctor had warned me they may make me drowsy. I wanted her to treat my home as hers while she was here. She had a glint in her eye as she smiled, and I thought that perhaps I should have phrased my words differently. There was nothing more to do about it now, so I closed my eyes and relaxed as best I could.

As the medication took effect, a pleasant warmth spread through my limbs, easing the sharp edges of my pain. My eyelids grew heavy, and I let myself sink into the chair, feeling Monique’s presence nearby.

I wasn’t sure how long I dozed, but when I stirred, the house was quiet. The scent of something cooking drifted from the kitchen—garlic, rosemary, and something rich and buttery. My stomach tightened in response. I turned my head slowly, testing the limits of my injuries. My arm throbbed, my ribs ached, but the pain was manageable.

I shifted in the recliner and saw Monique standing in the kitchen doorway, watching me with a small, satisfied smile.

“You’re awake,” she said softly, stepping closer. “I thought you might be hungry when you woke up, so I made something light.”

I glanced toward the kitchen, noticing the soft glow of the overhead light. The sun had set while I slept.

“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” I murmured, though the aroma alone made me grateful she had.