Chapter 95 Teasing him
NOVA
It hurts, so bad I wished to lie back on the bed and give in to the pain. I wanted to sleep, to act lazy for once because I was sick, but I didn't do that. I had never been one to act lazy. Dashiell kept on doting on me, almost like a mother hen. Each time I turned, he would provide whatever he felt I needed at the moment. It became so much that I had to demand he leave me for a minute.
"Nova?" He poked his head into the room, grinning. "Are you hungry? I got soup for you." He fully stepped into the room, smiling sheepishly as he raised the food flask. "It's hot and-"
"I'm still full," I groaned, glaring at him. "Do you want to complete what the man didn't, by killing me with food?"
It had reached the point of asking this. Having him dote on me at every turn made it seem like he wanted to smoulder me with kindness and attention.
Blushing sheepishly, he stepped towards me and placed the food flask on the table. "Do you want to sit up? The doctors said you need to exercise. Not only when you need to use the toilet or visit the bathroom. You can take a stroll or relax on the bed. Anything you wish," he rumbled on, trying to fill the silence, to calm how nervous he was.
For the past three days, he had been by my side, not leaving despite how many times I asked him to go home and rest. He was determined to be with me until I got discharged, something I knew would take an extra three days for that.
"Have you retrieved my line?" I asked instead, ignoring his suggestions. The truth was my back hurts from sitting all day. Not only that, but we just took a stroll around, something he must have forgotten.
"Not at all. I sent my secretary to do it for you. Don't worry, she will return it by the end of today," he promised, sitting on the chair next to the bed. "Are you certain you are not hungry? The soup is hot. You will love it," he coaxed with a smile. "Eating it will not only give you the desired nutrients but aid your recovery. Don't you want to leave here?"
I narrowed my eyes at his words. I could tell he wanted me to eat the soup, but I didn't care at the moment. Hearing his words made me eager to eat the soup, so I would be fit enough to leave. "You win." Sighing, I asked him to help me sit up, something he readily did, keen to help me.
"Here." He dished some soup for me, passing it as he watched me eagerly, waiting for me to have a taste. I frowned at that. With how eager he looked, it was almost as if he were the one who made the soup.
"Have a taste," he urged again, smiling as he gestured to the soup in my hand.
His eagerness was practically suspicious. Had I not known better, I would have thought he wanted to poison me, something I knew he wouldn't do. The Dashiell of five years ago would have done that without batting an eye, but not the present one who seemed more obsessed with me.
At his urgings, I ate a spoonful, stifling a moan at how good it was. "Wow." I took another spoonful, savouring the burst of flavour on my lips as I did so. It was heavenly-rich, savoury, and utterly delicious.
"How is it? Is it good?" His eyes sparkled, barely hiding his emotions. "Do you like it?"
"I" I paused, smiling as a certain thought came to mind. "It's not good." I grimaced, making faces at the soup. "Who made this? It's too salty. This isn't how to make soup."
"Oh." He sat back in the chair with his shoulders dropped, the smile on his face instantly vanishing. "I guess I will have to minimize the salt - I mean, I will tell the person who made it what you said. I didn't know it was that awful."
Seeing how sad he looked, made me want to tease him some more.
"Hmm," I said, my expression sceptical. "I'm not saying it's not good. This isn't bad, but..."
Inside, I was giggling. Oh, Dashiell, you're so adorable when you're trying to impress me. He looked just like Willow each time she wanted to get on my good side.
"But what?" he asked, his voice laced with eagerness. "Is there anything else you need to correct?"
I pretended to ponder, tapping my chin thoughtfully.
"Well, I think it needs a bit more... oomph. The cook seems to be.... I believe this meal was rushed. Couldn't have taken more than 20 minutes."
His brow furrowed, his lips pursing. I could see the vulnerability lurking behind his playful facade.
"Minutes? I spent hours perfecting this recipe," he declared, forgetting he was keeping it from me.
"OH? Did you just confess?" I teased, loving how his cheeks coloured.
His face contorted in mock offence. "You're killing me!" he exclaimed.
I couldn't hold back anymore. A snicker escaped, and his face lit up.
"You're teasing me, aren't you?" he accused, his eyes sparkling.
I nodded, taking another spoonful of the soup. "Why should I? It's so bad it's hurting my tongue!" I complained.
"Nova?" He called out in a warning tone.
"Okay, I give up. The soup is good."
"Yes!" He fist-pumped the air, smirking as his gaze returned to my face. "I know I'm that good!"
"Don't let it get to your head." Grinning, I took more spoonfuls of the soup, asking, "When did you learn how to cook?"
Last I checked, he hardly entered the kitchen. Back then, I did all the cooking, while he criticized me. I couldn't even count the number of times he ate at home. Each time, he would find fault with my meal.
At my question, he rubbed the back of his neck, as his cheeks tinged more with a red blush. "I learned this for you," he confessed, averting his gaze. "I just wanted to make your favourite food for you, and to take care of you."
I watched him, speechless. Funny enough, hearing him say those words gave me a warm tingle in my stomach. Had it not been for his plans to get rid of my baby, I would have given him a shot.
"Nova, I-"
"Have Brion called you?" I interrupted, remembering a question I intended to ask him before he brought the soup in.
At my question, the smile on his face vanished, replaced by a frown as he sat back in the chair. He took his time, watching me as if he wanted to know my thoughts before he nodded. "Yes, he did."