I stared at him.
“You offered.”
“I absolutely did not mean it.”
He grinned.
That was my Conor.
“Tea would be nice, Cyn.”
I made the tea anyway.
When I came back, the padding near the top of his cast looked folded. I reached toward it.
Conor pulled his leg away.
“I’ve got it.”
I laughed.
“Since when?”
“I don’t want you bumping it.”
I made the tea anyway.
“Conor, you once asked me to check your temperature four times in one evening.”
“It was a bad fever.”
Then he shifted his leg farther away.
***
The next morning, I offered to wrap the cast before his shower.
“No. I’ll do it.”
“You plan to balance on one foot while wrapping your own leg?”
I offered to wrap the cast before his shower.
“I can manage, Cynthia. Please, stop hovering.”
He took the plastic upstairs.
A minute later, I heard the bathroom lock click.
