Saturday morning sunlight streamed through the narrow slits of the bedroom curtains. Ryan blinked awake, realizing the soreness in his throat had mostly faded and his head felt much clearer.
"Love's miracle cure..." he murmured to himself, touching his no-longer-feverish forehead as a lazy smile tugged at his lips.
The memory of her kiss, minty and electric, lingered like a highlight reel.
He reached for his phone on the nightstand and quickly typed out a message to Chloe: Morning, babe.
The message was marked "read" within seconds.
A reply followed almost immediately: Just a text?
He could picture her arched brow, that sly smirk. Ryan chuckled, rolling onto his back, and dialed her number. The line picked up on the second ring.
"So?" Chloe's voice was lazy with morning warmth, a teasing edge cutting through. "How's my patient holding up?"
"Like a new man," Ryan said, propping a pillow behind his head, his voice still a touch hoarse. "Wanna grab—"
