“Ow!”
“Can you write that tomorrow?”
“I suppose so…”
“It’s just there’s a nest in the armchair, and a bottle of wine with your name on it…”
Andreas barked a laugh. “Oh, you’ll be lucky. I’m not having sex for six months, minimum. You might put another monster in me.”
“Would you accuse me of being cheesy if I said actually I got a bottle of your favourite massage oil, too and I wanted to soothe you into a coma?”
“Yes. And I’d be suspicious. Why?”
“You’ve not been yourself since the three-month mark. And I miss you, and I know I can’t make it better because it’s all tangled up with your body and how it makes you feel, but I love you and I hate seeing you down, so I want to make you feel good for a bit, even if it’s just surface good. So…”
Andreas’ expression softened.
“Thank you,” he said softly, and leaned up for a quick kiss. “You’re right, you can’t fix it. But a massage and a bottle of wine does sound good.”