He gives me a single nod before guiding us over to the car. After getting in and thawing out, he turns to me. “I never bring anyone here.”
Huh?
He’s not the only one…
I thought maybe Cam meant she loved Adam too. It makes sense, since he’s the father of her only child. But maybe…maybe she meant Kaiden loved someone else.
But she couldn’t mean me.
Right?
Chapter Thirty-One
For the first time in months, I feel human. It’s so foreign that I cry. Not because I’m in pain, but because I don’t remember what it’s like not to be.
Dr. Aberdeen and my rheumatologist theorized that the medication I was on for my inflammation was causing the migraines. Between switching to a different prescription that still helps combat my symptoms, on top of an additional new pill to ease any oncoming headaches, I’m a new person.
To celebrate, Kaiden surprises me by driving us to a small restaurant after school on Friday. It’s much homier than Le Sal’s, with a laidback atmosphere that I love. The way he speaks to the hostess makes me wonder if he comes here a lot.
He reaches down and weaves our fingers together, sending shock waves up my arm until my heart reacts by pumping faster. When he leads us to the back without the hostess, I know he must have planned this ahead. Our table is separated from the rest, furthest from the subtle noise of early dinner conversations.
“You don’t like noise,” he prompts, when he sees me looking around the half-empty room.
Nibbling my lip, I give him a timid smile.
Shortly after opening up to him about my disease, I saw him googling it and reading various articles on causes and symptoms. He would close out of anything if he saw me looking over at him from my homework and give me lip about what a nerd I am or how messy my hair looked at that moment.
Anything to make it look like he doesn’t care, when there’s no doubt in my mind he does. It’s in the little things he does like putting an extra blanket over me after I fall asleep, or telling Dad and Cam I can’t go out to eat at certain places because their food isn’t something I’m supposed to eat when I’m too shy to tell them myself. He leaves me silly pictures everywhere from my dresser to bathroom mirror—post-its with cartoon images like kissing lips and frozen yogurt and a sun with shades on.
He doesn’t pester me to take my medication like Dad or remind me to get more rest on the nights I have enough energy to stay up and get ahead on homework or read. He let’s me live my life and supports whatever I choose to do with it.
The other night we stayed up making brownies. Double chocolate. I ate way too much batter until my stomach hurt, and then promptly ate way too many warm brownies as we watched a few movies. Things have been great. Fun, even.
After a waitress gets our drink order, we’re left alone to look over the menu. I smile when I see the array of options, debating on one of their cheapest salads just to see what he’ll say.
Surely he won’t throw my plate on the floor here and demand I order a pizza.
I look at him staring at his menu, the tip of his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. A light fluttering feeling fills my stomach over the image in front of me. He’s reading the food list with such intensity and precision, yet he looks so boyish at the same time.
Cute isn’t the right word to describe Kaiden Monroe, so why do I have the urge to call him that anyway?
He catches me staring, but I don’t dodge his eyes like normal. “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I…” My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, tied over his attention toward me. “I, uh, don’t know what to get is all.”
“Liar,” he muses, sitting back. “You can get whatever you want. Their chicken stuff is pretty good. I think I had the marsala once. They’re known for their fish entrees though, and I heard that salmon is good for people with autoimmune diseases so…” He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze by staring at the menu.
My eyes narrow. “Are you…blushing?”
His brows pinch but he won’t look up.
“Oh my God.” I laugh, smiling wider than I have in forever. “The Kaiden Monroe is blushing. I feel like I should take a picture. The school has an Instagram account, right? Maybe I should tag them in it so they’ll share it to their student pride story.”
He grumbles and sets down his menu, giving me a dirty look that looks more like he’s pouting than anything. “I don’t blush. I’m just saying that I heard it’s good for you or whatever.”
I play along, nodding. “I’m sure. Google does like to suggest the best salmon dishes for people fighting inflammatory diseases.”
His eyes cast downward.