Franco picked up the teacup from the coffee table, his movements so smooth you’d barely notice. “It’s just a scratch. No need.”
Laura’s hand paused for a second, but her face stayed calm. Her voice was gentle as ever. “Just be careful when you shower. If the scrape gets wet, dry it off right away. It’ll heal faster that way.”
She handed the ointment and cotton swabs to Susan. “Franco doesn’t need them, so just put them away.”
Franco’s gaze landed on her knees. She followed his eyes and noticed the deep blue fabric of her skirt was wet, a dark patch where raindrops had splashed when she came inside.
“You should wipe that off.”
Laura replied softly, but she knew Franco was a stickler for cleanliness. If he pointed it out, he probably wasn’t happy about it.
She wheeled herself back a bit to put some space between them.
The housekeeper knelt next to her and gently dabbed at the wet spot with a tissue.
It was pouring outside, but the house felt warm and cozy. Laura reached for her teacup, but her hand suddenly shook and the cup slipped, crashing to the floor by her leg.
“Oh no, Laura, are you alright?” The housekeeper hurried to check her hand. “Did you burn yourself?”
Franco frowned. “What happened?”
Laura’s lips lost some color. “It’s fine. My hand just felt weak for a second and I dropped the cup.”
The housekeeper glanced at Franco, sounding worried. “Laura was so worried about you, she skipped dinner and rushed over…”
Laura cut her off. “No need to say that. I didn’t have much of an appetite anyway.”
Why bring it up to Franco?
She cared about him, sure, but she refused to use little things like this to get his attention or sympathy.
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