For one breathless moment, Clara desperately hoped the figure entering the hospital room would be James—she nearly called his name—only to see Floyd stride in instead.
"Morning! Was afraid you'd still be sleeping," he said cheerfully.
He crossed to her bedside and plunked down a steaming thermal lunchbox on the nightstand.
Clara bolted upright, frantically finger-combing her bedhead. "Morning... Did you really come just to bring me breakfast?" she asked, her cheeks flushing pink.
"Yep." Floyd flashed his trademark lopsided grin.
Her heart swelled even as embarrassment heated her neck. "Oh gosh, you didn't need to... It's not serious anyway. I'll be discharged soon—"
Floyd suddenly produced her phone from his pocket. "Actually, I'm here to return this. Accidentally took it yesterday.
