After I said that, his gaze met mine and he held it, sending my heart on a marathon race, seizing my breath.
I needed to clear the air. Get it back to my lungs.
The fact he had an unreadable expression only worsened things.
But I managed a smile, “I want to know how it'll feel standing beside you and how taller than I am, you are.”
He nodded as though not convinced, but not wanting to say more.
Finally I caught my breath, “now, back to you willing to do physiotherapy,” I quickly changed the subject, “why did you suddenly have a change of heart?”
He shrugged, “I guess someone emcouraged me to.”
Knowing it was me, the color burned my cheeks so I went back to massaging his head. “And when do you start?”
“I'll be going Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays.”
“Are you going to the hospit
