Nora squinted at me, eyes gleaming with pure mischief. She took another spoonful of stew, dramatically slow, as if savoring the moment before she struck again.
"I don't believe you," she finally said, voice light and teasing.
I let out an exasperated sigh, slouching in the chair beside her bed. "Nora. I just drove three hours, cooked you a damn meal, and you're interrogating me instead of thanking me? I think I deserve some respect."
She grinned, absolutely unbothered. "I am thanking you. I'm just also questioning your suspicious behavior. You don't usually get all weird when I ask dumb questions."
"I'm not being weird," I muttered, focusing way too hard on folding the cloth that had wrapped the bread.
"You totally are," she countered, setting down her spoon and turning to me fully, sitting cross-legged in the hospital bed.
