“Okay what?”

He shrugs like this is no big deal, like it’s not something we’ve been arguing about for literal years, him telling me the shop was fine the way it was and me insisting that it could be better. “You can redo some things. Paint stuff. Bring in that artwork you’re always going on about.”

I almost spill my soup. “Are you serious?”

He points at me. “Let’s start small, though. The bathroom. Make whatever cosmetic changes you want to the bathroom, and then we’ll move on from there.”

“This is perfect. I know a great wallpaper guy, and I have this mirror I’ve been saving in my closet for this very day.” I reach for my phone to look for a picture of my ideal wallpaper to show Nick, but he grabs my hand first.

“Hey,” he says. “We can get to work later. Right now, you’re resting.”

He keeps his hold on my hand, and I stop breathing. This goes on for so long that I start to think the lack of oxygen is going to cause problems, and I can’t hear anything but the laugh track on TV as I stare at Nick.

“Nick,” I start.

He drops my hand. “I should probably go.”

“Can you stay?” I ask, my mouth spitting out the words before I can even think about them. “For another episode?”

The credits start rolling for Family Ties. “Oh, Nick. Have you ever seen Family Ties? Michael J. Fox is this little ’80s Republican in a family full of bleeding hearts. It’s amazing.”

Nick leans back against the wall. “One episode.”

“One episode.” I smile and push my feet, under the blanket, onto his lap. When I finish my soup, he takes the bowl from me and I scoot down under the blankets and get comfortable. One minute I’m laughing at something Meredith Baxter Birney said, and the next thing I know, I’m blinking as the end credits roll.

“Uggggggh,” I groan, then look for Nick at the end of the bed . . . but he isn’t there. Did he leave?

And then I hear a sound from the kitchen. Running water and dishes clinking. “Uh, hello?” I ask.

“You’re up.” Nick steps around the half wall, drying a bowl with a dish towel.

I squint. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “It seemed wrong to leave while you were asleep, so I washed some dishes.”

“You washed my dishes?”

“It was either that or keep watching Family Ties, which I had no interest in.”

“I’m offended, but thank you.”

Nick gestures with his head. “Tea on your bedside table.”

“Oh.” I reach over and take a sip of something surprisingly boozy. “Uh, whoa.”

“Hot toddy,” Nick clarifies. “So there’s some whiskey involved. Mama Velez always swears it will cure your ills.”

I take another sip. “I like the way Mama Velez thinks.”

Nick retreats into the kitchen, where I can see him at the sink, washing, drying, and putting away.