Cellie's POV
The next morning he made me coffee in the specific way I had come to think of as mine, which was with the patience of someone who understood that the coffee was for waking up rather than for the coffee.
I sat on the kitchen island and watched him move through his kitchen and thought about all the ordinary mornings I had wanted and not expected to have and was currently in the middle of having, and the specific gratitude of that was enormous and quiet simultaneously.
"I want to go back to work," I said.
He set the mug down with the care of someone who had anticipated this and was choosing the response with precision.
"When Alfonso clears you," he said.
"Alfonso cleared me two days ago."
"Alfonso cleared you for light activity," he said. "Which I have interpreted generously."
"Your interpretation has been creative," I agreed.
He turned to look at me. "Two more days."
"One," I said.
