“Sit.” I nod to the bed. Once she’s seated, I grab the shoes she’s set out and slip them on her feet, glancing up to meet her eyes.
I tug her to stand and walk her over to the wall mirror, standing behind her and entwining our fingers at her sides. With her braids coiled into an intricate updo, studded with gold clamps, and the proud set of her shoulders as she stares back at her reflection, she looks like a queen.
“You really enjoy doing this for me, don’t you?” she asks, something like wonder in her eyes.
“You’re obviously incredibly capable,” I tell her. “I know you don’t need me to take care of you, but I want you to know there’s someone who loves doing it. That you don’t have to carry everything alone.”
She looks stunned for a moment. I bend to kiss her cheek and then the corner of her mouth.
“For someone who works so hard making other people beautiful,” I tell her, “for a few days, I wanted you not to lift a finger even for yourself.”
“No one’s ever done that for me.” She blinks rapidly, biting her bottom lip.
I turn her back to study her reflection and meet her eyes in the mirror. “I hope you’ll get used to it.”