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worries.”
    Then she was gone.
    It occurred to him that in the last twenty minutes, they’d had more of an honest conversation than he’d ever had with his wife. Grace spent the afternoon with his kids and learned more about them than Alice ever cared to know. Normally, he didn’t trust people this easily, but there was something about Grace that put his mind at ease. He liked to make her smile. It felt good to make her laugh.
    The soft pillows and familiar bed pulled his eyelids closed. He should see about the kids. The pounding in his head eased a bit. He didn’t need to worry about the kids. Grace was here and she’d make sure they were okay.

 
     
     
Chapter 6
     
     
    At eleven-thirty that night, Graces’s phone beeped with a new text. She pulled it out of her back pocket.
    Thanks for the waters. Is it too late to take you up on that food offer?
    It was from Chord. Earlier, she’d taken up four bottles of water on ice in a silver champagne bucket—mainly because she’d been amused there were actually people who owned champagne buckets. Along with the water, she’d left him a note asking him to text if he wanted dinner.
    She tossed the dishrag she’d used to wipe down the kitchen counter tops and turned to the stove where a large pot of homemade chicken noodle soup sat simmering. For dinner she’d fixed pork chops, but Chord was sick, so that called for chicken noodle soup. She and the kids had made it together. They’d cut the carrots, onions, celery, and garlic, and she cooked it all down. Not her best chicken soup, but the kids had felt important helping to make something for their dad.
    She texted back she’d be up in a minute with dinner.
    After grabbing two more water bottles and the silver tray she’d found in the closet under the stairs, she ladled a bowl full of chicken soup, turned it off, and put the lid on the pot. She’d deal with putting it away after it cooled. She added a spoon and a napkin to the tray before hoisting it up.
    Five minutes later, she walked into Chord’s bedroom. He was sitting up, his eyes were watery, his nose was red, and his color was sallow. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look terrible.”
    “I feel terrible.” He eyed the steaming bowl. “I bet that smells good, only my nose is stopped up.”
    “My homemade chicken noodle soup. The kids helped me make it. Just so you know, HW left you his favorite blue blanket so you would have nice dreams, but he needed it back so he could sleep. He went through quite a personal crisis trying to figure out if it was okay to take it back from you.” She set the tray on his lap.
    “He’s slept with that blanket since Alice left. I told him it would always give him nice dreams. He had bad ones after she left.” He picked up the spoon. “Looks good.”
    Alice? Talking about the ex-wife didn’t seem awkward for him. Poor HW. She’d have to take extra good care of him and his blue blanket.
    Gingerly, he took a sip. “Wow, this is good.”
    “Of course it’s good, the kids put lots of love for daddy into it.” She touched his forehead. “You still have a fever.”
    Grace picked up the box of cold medicine and noted that he’d taken two tablets. She checked the indications and found it did have a fever reducer in it. “How long ago did you take this?”
    She was a good nurse. Maybe if the singing bug hadn’t caught her, she might have gone to nursing school and followed in her aunt’s footsteps.
    It didn’t escape her attention that a few days ago he’d thrown her out, and now she was taking care of him. Life was weird.
    “Just now. When I woke up.” He spooned another mouthful and patted the bed next to him. “Sit.” He said around the soup. “We need to talk.”
    “Okay.” She walked around the bed. Was he sending her packing? She’d had fun today. It would suck to not get to hang out with the kids tomorrow. The fact that it was borderline inappropriate for her to get in bed next to a man she