The days after the driving lesson felt like we were slowly stitching ourselves back together. Damien was still resting at home, though he was clearly getting restless. He kept trying to sneak glances at his laptop when he thought I wasn’t looking, and I kept confiscating it with a dramatic sigh and a “Doctor’s orders” reminder. He’d grumble, pull me into his lap, and kiss me until I forgot why I was scolding him in the first place.
“You’re the worst patient I’ve ever had,” I told him one afternoon while we were on the couch, my legs draped over his.
“And you’re the bossiest nurse,” he shot back, grinning as he squeezed my thigh. “But I like it when you boss me around. Especially when you’re wearing my shirt and nothing else.”
I laughed and patted his chest. “Focus. You’re supposed to be
