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“Sorry?”

“It’s a rhyme some of us say.”

“Us?”

“Outdoor types.”

She flinched. Sure, she looked like an indoor snuggled-by-the-fire sort of girl because she was one, but she enjoyed the outdoors, too. Even the occasional bit of exercise. She just didn’t do it obsessively every morning like he did.

He must have read her thoughts because he sighed. “Stop hearing slights when none were intended, Anna. It’s my job to be outside. It’s yours to care for sick people inside. What you do is far more worthy of a boast.”

Her shoulders fell. “Well, that took the wind out of my pumped-up sails.”

He gave her another one of his small smiles. It was like he wanted to smile, but wasn’t sure enough of her response, or relaxed enough around her, to do it. “Now we’ve established you’re more important than me, why don’t you find out what we’re doing today?”

Amusement hovered in his eyes and she found herself smiling back. “Okay, here goes.” She peeled back window number four, and her heart cracked.

“Anna?” The concern in Luke’s voice made it hard to contain the tears that gathered in her eyes. “What does it say?”

“It says spend the afternoon reading in Anna’s coffee shop.” She sniffed. “In silence.”

“And that’s bad, why?”

His expression was a mix of puzzled and confused. It was—okay, not a word she’d ever associated with him, but it was so sweet, it pushed the sadness down. “You think I can do silent?”

“No, I don’t.” His eyes narrowed. “But I also think that’s not the reason you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.” She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her pj’s. “In a way these are happy tears. At least they’re from memories of happy times.” She snatched at a tissue and gave her nose a noisy blow, the type that would usually have embarrassed her, but Luke had already seen her at her worst over these last few weeks.

When she looked up, she found him watching her. He did that a lot. Watched quietly, waited for her to fill the silence. She wondered if it was to give her the space to share her memories. Or if he just hated talking.

“Colin took me to The Cozy Cup when he first bought this place.” She pressed a hand to her chest, where her heart ached. “He was so excited, so proud to get the key. He said we had to celebrate with coffee and cake at the best café in town. I loved it so much, I made him take me there every time I visited.” She squeezed her eyes shut as her brain threw up an image of them laughing at their usual table upstairs. “We’d drink and eat sugary baked goods loaded with calories while I talked his ear off. I bet you can’t imagine that, huh?” She gave Luke a wry smile. “Colin used to joke that one day we’d go there and he’d get to talk. I’d be the silent one.” Now he’d get his day, but he wouldn’t be there to enjoy it. She swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “The Cozy Cup is run by an Italian couple,” she explained, veering onto safer ground. “The cakes are to die for. They do these bombolones, it’s like an Italian doughnut. You’re going to love them.”

Twin green eyes regarded her steadily. “The message said go and read. Not go and eat cake.”

“Yeah, but you can’t go to a coffee shop and not have cake. That’s like going to the beach and not dipping your toe in the sea. Going to the movies and not having popcorn. Going to the park and—”

“I get the picture,” he said, his tone bone dry. “I’m just not a fan of cake.”

She gaped at him. “You don’t like cake?”

“I believe that’s what I said.”

“But everyone likes cake.”

“Apparently not.”

She gave him a silent study, eyes drawn to the pop of his biceps, the twisty veins on his forearms as he reached up to hold on to the door frame. Climber’s arms; strong, toned. “You’re really weird, you know that?”

“Says the woman wearing pajamas with . . . what is that, exactly?”

She looked down at the swirls of browns and pinks and caramels. The squiggles of white for icing and the striped candy sticks. “It’s a gingerbread man.” She pointed to the face on her chest. “His eyes, his mouth. Colin bought them for me last year.”

His mouth twitched. “He never did have any taste in clothes.”

A week ago, she’d have taken offense at that. Now, she was fairly certain it was his idea of a joke. “You say that now. Next year you’ll be asking Santa for a pair.”

“I doubt it.” He smirked. “I don’t wear anything to bed.”