Chapter 19

The scent of something rich and savory drifted through the air, stirring me from sleep. I blinked my eyes open to find Monique kneeling beside the bed, her hand resting lightly on my chest. Her expression was soft, affectionate, her fingers tracing absent patterns over my shirt.

“Dinner’s ready,” she murmured, her voice warm. “I hated waking you, but you need to eat.”

I stretched carefully, taking stock of how I felt. The dull ache in my head remained, but it was manageable. The doctor had assured us my concussion symptoms were minor, but Monique had taken his advice to heart—making sure I got plenty of rest, watching over me like a guardian angel who also happened to be sinfully tempting.

She helped me sit up, steadying me as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “How long did I sleep?” I asked, rubbing the lingering grogginess from my eyes.

“A few hours,” she said. “Enough to help, but not too much to keep you up tonight.” She grinned. “I’m learning how to care for a grumpy patient.”

I snorted. “I’m not grumpy.”

She arched a brow. “No? I must have imagined you mumbling about how ‘bossy’ I am before rolling over and ignoring me earlier.”

I chuckled as she helped me stand. “Alright, alright. I concede. But only because you’ve bribed me with food.”

The dining table was set beautifully—a simple yet elegant spread of grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a fresh baguette with butter. The soft glow of candlelight flickered over Monique’s features as she poured two glasses of wine, smiling as she passed me one.

“Only a little,” she warned. “I don’t want my patient passing out mid-bite.”

I smirked. “Understood, Nurse Monique.”

She rolled her eyes but leaned in to press a lingering kiss to my cheek before settling into her chair beside me. The meal was perfect—flavorful and comforting, made all the better by the easy intimacy between us. We ate slowly, stealing occasional touches, sharing quiet smiles.

At one point, she broke off a piece of baguette, slathered it with butter, and held it up to my lips. “Try this,” she said softly.

I let her feed me, savoring the warmth of her fingers brushing my lips before she pulled away. “You’re spoiling me,” I murmured, swallowing the bite.

“Good,” she said simply. “You deserve it.”

Not long after we finished eating, the doorbell rang. Monique’s eyes flicked to mine, something unreadable in her expression. “That’ll be my parents.”