Only One Mistake (Only One 6)

He laughs. “If I told you that I was sitting outside of your condo, and I had food, would that make it better?” I stop mid-step and run to look out the window, but I don’t see his SUV there.

“I’m looking outside, and you are not there.” I see movement in a black SUV, and the driver's side door opens, and he steps out. He’s wearing another fucking hat, and he has scruff on his face.

He holds up a hand. “Can you see me?”

“You changed SUVs?” I ask, and he leans back into the SUV. I move my head to see what the hell he’s doing. He comes back with two brown bags of food and two drink trays.

“The last one was a loaner,” he explains as he walks toward my building. He stops as he sees me standing in the window. “Why don’t you have a patio?” I just look at him standing there in gym shorts and a shirt. His arms are bulging, and my hormones kick in. He’s so fucking hot is the only thing I can think of. Everything else is pushed aside.

“Why are you carrying so many drinks?” I ask, and he looks down at the trays. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll leave the door open,” I say, pushing away from the window and walking to the front door. I unlock it and then step into the bathroom and look at myself.

I shriek when I see my reflection. My hair looks like a rat’s nest, the white tank top getting to be a touch too small around my belly, but the booty shorts fit me perfectly. I turn on the water in the sink and wash my face after I go to the bathroom, then grab the white robe hanging on the door. Even though he’s seen me naked, I cover myself up. I brush out my hair and braid it on the side. “Here goes nothing,” I whisper as I pull open the door to the bathroom and step out.

He’s sitting on the stool at the counter with the curtains in the living room open to let in some light. “Morning,” he says, smiling when he looks up from his phone. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” I reply, walking over and sitting down on the stool next to him and wincing.

“What’s wrong?” he asks frantically.

“Nothing. My back just hurts,” I share, leaning back. “What did you get me to eat?”

“I didn’t know what you like,” he says, grabbing the two bags of food. “So I got you a mix of everything.” He looks over at me and smirks. “I got you the regular pancakes, French toast, waffles.” He takes out the first black container with the clear lid, handing it to me. My hand reaches out to take it from him, and our fingers graze each other. My pulse picks up speed as his eyes find mine.

“Thank you,” I say, averting my eyes in case he can see how much his touch affects me.

“Then I got you eggs.” He pulls out the second black container. “Scrambled, over easy, and sunny-side up.” My mouth opens as he places it down on the counter. “I got all the meats, sausage, ham, bacon, and some hash browns.” He puts another container on the counter, and at this point, we are running out of space. “Then I also got you bread, wheat, grain, and white,” he continues, taking out three brown bags. “I didn’t know if you wanted baked goods,” he says, taking the second brown bag and pulling it to him. “I got you a fruit platter.” He takes a bowl out of the bag and puts it down, and I see that it has all the fruits in it. My mouth waters as I open the top and take a strawberry out. “Then I got you croissants and muffins.” He takes out two more containers.

“There is enough food here for a family of eight.” I look around, and he just shrugs.

“You can snack during the day,” he says. I smile and put my head down, some of my loose hair that escaped the braid, falls to the front, and I tuck it behind my ear. “So you don’t get sick.” He remembered.

“Thank you,” I say softly, putting my hand on his. “That is very thoughtful.”

“For you, Jillian,” he says my name softly. “Anything.”

I blink away the tears and get up to go get two plates and some forks. “Did you eat?” I ask, and he nods.

“I couldn’t really sleep,” he says. “I got you something to drink.” I want to ask him why he couldn’t sleep. I want to ask him if he tossed and turned. I want to ask him all the questions, and I want to know everything about him. “From all the things I read online,” he says, “I got you one of everything. Orange juice, tea, milk, and decaffeinated coffee,” he says, but all I can hear is that he read things online.