“It’s . . .” Glancing away, he stares at the floor. “It’s soup.” “Okay? Well, there’s no shame in bulk soup making.” Eyes still on the floor, he says, quieter, “For you.” “For me?” My heart twirls in my chest. He made soup for me? Jamie’s cheeks pink as he clears his throat. “I made four different kinds of veggie puree soups with my fancy blender and froze them. I was going to give them to you, but then I didn’t know if it was too much, or if you’d even like them. So they’re just . . . sitting in there.
