Lily had finally fallen asleep, her head resting just above Benedick’s knees, her hair spread across his lap. Even though her breath had evened out, Benedick refused to stop running his fingers gently through her hair. Just in case his lack of movement somehow broke the spell, and she woke up in a panic again.
Ophelia came in a watched them with a look of utter disdain all over her face. “You’re weak,” She told Benedick simply, “You’re weak and she’s not going to be able to stand on her own two feet because you keep coddling her.”
“Her job is so much harder than anyone else’s,” Benedick defended, but It sounded like weak defense even to his own ears. “She’s stronger than she looks.” That part was true—at least. Lily had certainly handled a lot more than even Benedick would have imagined that she could. But Ophelia was also right. Benedick was treating her with a specialty that he’d never done with the others. And he had no good excuse for why.
Well, actually, he had one very good excuse for why, but certainly not one that he would admit aloud.
Ophelia shook her head again. “Weak,” She repeated before leaving the room. And yet, Benedick’s hand never stopped moving.