Page 127 of Trouble from Abroad
Mia turns away at the sound of her comment, rummaging in the cupboards for something I’m sure we don’t need.
“I’m smiling because I’ve got the best team in my kitchen, Lil.”
Mia comes back with a can of anchovies, shaking her head. But she’s smiling too, cheeks tinted pink, eyes refusing to meet mine.
“Ew, I’m not eating that. They’re smelly.” Lily recoils from the sight of a small can. “Dad, please don’t make me eat those!”
“What? Of course not. They’re not on the menu.” I turn to Mia, faking outrage. “Where did your mind just wander off to? Care to share with us?”
Her mouth drops open for a beat before she answers. “Not really, no.”
We cook. We eat. We laugh. The kitchen’s never felt this alive, this chaotic, or this full. Neither has my life.
Bedtime follows, Lily pleading for two stories. Mia reads the first—dramatic voices, wild hand gestures—while Lily cackles under the covers. At some point between sentences, I realize my daughter’s watching Mia more than the book. I read the next book, and Mia slips slowly from the room, although no one asked or wants her to. When I dim the lights down, Lily whispers, “I like this new you.”
My throat goes tight. I kiss the top of her head and tuck the blanket higher. “Me too, Lil.”
When I step out and find Mia leaning against the hallway wall, waiting, I know she’s the reason and inspiration. She’s it.
Time to put my plan into motion. I’ll enact the dream. Try it out in real life.
I’m so sure this will work, it takes no effort to lace our fingers together and guide her back downstairs. In front of the sofa, I pass her the remote. “Choose something for us. I’ll make tea. Chamomile?”
Her eyes narrow, but she never pulls away. “Yeah. That’d be great, thanks.”
When I come back, Mia’s curled into one corner of the couch with the TV menu still waiting for a decision she hasn’t made. “Couldn’t find anything good. Want to give it a try?” She hands me the remote and takes her mug from my hand, setting it on the table to cool. I set mine beside it, take my seat, then tug her feet into my lap.
“Oh.” It slips out when I dig my thumbs into her sole and press upward. “Is there anything you can’t do with those hands, Doctor?” Her head has fallen back, and her eyes are closed.
Of course my mind goes there, but sex isn’t part of the plan tonight. “Don’t know, Miss Thorne, but I’m up for the challenge,” I say anyway.
She laughs—rough silk, private just for us both. I’d hoard the sound if I could.
“I saw Kate today. She’s doing better than I expected. She moved her big toe on command. Twice.” I try and fail tokeep the pride out of my voice. It feels so good, sharing this with her. Natural too.
Her head snaps back up, and her eyes shine brighter than they normally do. “Pres, that’s amazing. And on your first surgery back. Wow.”
I pause, letting her praise sit with me. “You’re the reason I’ve got the fight back in me, Mia. Don’t ever doubt that.”
She looks at me like she wants to argue, but is holding it in. So I don’t allow time for her self-doubt to creep in. I gesture toward the stairs. “If you haven’t settled on a show, I started a bath for you. Just need to top it up with hot water. Add some oils. There’s a towel warming on the dryer.” Hope tugs at one corner of my mouth, but I rein it in. “No strings. No expectations. Let’s call it… gratitude bubbles.”
Her lips part, unsure, but she smiles at the ridiculous name I made up.
“I’ve never had one of those before. What exactlyaregratitude bubbles, Doctor?” She’s hiding in humor, behind flirtation. It only sharpens my resolve—how clearly I see through her.
“You, sinking into hot water and bubbles, wrapped in the fanciest jasmine scent I could find, while I work the knots from your shoulders and tell you more about my small wins today. I’d love to hear about your day too. Or your plans, if you feel like sharing.”
Her breath stutters. I’ve walked into a minefield. I see her mind reaching for excuses, so I press forward before she can run. “I’ve made a list of my own, you know.” Her chin tips up, curious. “Maybe you can read it in the bath?”
“Oh? Is it a dirty one?” Sweet Mia, still convinced she can flip this on me. My laugh comes out rougher than I intend.
I lift her foot and give her big toe a playful nip. “You already covered that so well, Trouble. So mine’s different.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
mia
Making a detour to my room,I peel off my clothes and throw on a robe. Before I tie it shut, I catch myself in the mirror. The robe slips right back down to the floor because, apparently, I’m staring now.
