An hour and a half later I showed up at Rémy's apartment with bags of medicines, teas and my secret cold and flu remedy; Mom’s chicken soup.
After two weeks of working for him, we’d grown comfortable enough for me to just let myself in. When I opened his door, it was like walking into a hot and humid jungle, minus the plants and creepy critters. By now, all nine of the humidifiers I’d ordered for Rémy had arrived, and he must have had each one running at full blast. I put the bags down in the kitchen, found a stock pot and began warming up the chicken soup I’d had frozen in my freezer.
“What are you doing?”
Rémy was standing in the kitchen doorway wearing his customary skin-hugging t-shirt and gray sweatpants. His thick forearms glistened in the humid air. I forced my eyes up to face le
