Chapter Seven
Not even watching Megan work in my kitchen can perk me up right now. My head is pounding, and my sinuses are blocked. I have a scratchy throat and am pretty sure I have a fever. I hated cancelling on her. I’m not stupid enough to think I can go on a run feeling like this.
It’s been forever since I got sick. In fact, over the last ten years, I can count the number of times I got sick on one hand.
After setting the soup on to warm, Meg disappears down the hallway that leads to the gym and bedrooms. I close my eyes and lay my head back.
Meg comes back into the room carrying a first aid kit I keep in the bathroom. She sets it on the table and opens it.
“Meg, don’t get too close. I don’t want you to catch this.”
“Hush,” she opens up a digital thermometer and, after some fiddling, she gets it turned on.
I go to tell her how it works, but she points it at my forehead to take the reading. I guess she’s used one before. Her lips purse as she looks at the readout. Then she examines the bottles on the table, cataloguing the vitamins I’ve taken and the large bottle of water, which I’ve hardly touched.
She turns the thermometer to show me, and I widen my eyes, though am not surprised the readout has turned red, showing a fever.
“First things first, you need to hydrate.” She hands me the water bottle. I take it and drink down half of it while she goes further into the first aid box. “Take two of these now,” she takes out a box of Motrin. “Taking it will bring down the fever.”
I’d argue I hate taking pharmaceutical medicine, but I’m not stupid. I swallow the pills while she clears everything away and asks me what other symptoms I’ve been having. I run through them, and she nods.
“It sounds like flu or a severe cold, but we need to get your temperature down. The tablets will help,” she repeats. “Now let me get the soup.”
I doze while she is in the kitchen. When she comes back, she helps me sit up and I manage half a bowl. She then decides I need to go to bed.
“I’m fine, Meg, you should go.”
“Don’t argue with me,” she stands up and pulls the blanket off me. “Let’s go.” She holds out a hand.
There is nothing sexual about the way she looks at my naked chest. She is genuinely concerned.
Once I’m in bed, and she’s brought everything I might need into the room, she disappears for a minute, then returns with a cold compress. She sits down on the edge of the bed and places it on my forehead.
“Fuck, that feels good,” I groan.
When I open my eyes, her lip is caught between her teeth and her cheeks are flushed as she stares at me. If I had even half of my wits about me, I might find that attractive. Who the fuck am I kidding ?
She’s gorgeous, even if she’s concerned. In fact, that makes her even more appealing, and I can’t help the lazy smile I give her.
“Get some rest,” she says.
“Not tired,” I say.
“Is that so?” There is a hint of amusement in her tone.
My eyes are losing the battle to stay open, as much as I want to lie here and stare at her. She’s right, I’m exhausted. The soup, water and tablets are helping with the shitty feeling, but I can’t keep my eyes open.
I succumb to sleep, feeling Meg’s hand brushing my hair as she removes the cold compress.
Time ceases to register. I only know Meg keeps coming back to make sure I drink. She gives me the medication to continue to keep the fever down and I have some more of the delicious soup she brought.
I sleep on and off, but she is always there when I wake up. It doesn’t register with me she hasn’t left my apartment, or how long she has been here. Not until I wake up feeling less like I’m living in the burning asshole of hell. I convince her I’m good to take a shower and after checking my temperature again, she nods, satisfied I’ll be okay.
As I get washed, I realize everything she has done for me brought me to this point. I swear, when I first woke feeling like this, I wasn’t sure how the hell I would even make myself something to eat, never mind take a shower and feel halfway human again.
When I come back from the shower, Megan is in my room. It smells of lavender, which is a hell of a lot nicer than the medicinal tea tree I was burning when she got here, even if I swear it kills germs.
Everything is tidied up on my bedside, fresh water beside the meds, and she’s changed the sheets. I stand in the doorway holding the towel around my waist as she finishes straightening off the duvet, mesmerized as I watch her doing all of this, taking care of me.
I wonder how many times she has had someone in her life take care of her.
“You didn’t have to do that.” I break the silence.
Megan straightens up and whirls around with a startled squeal at the sound of my voice. I immediately regret not letting her know I’d come into the room. Opening my mouth to apologize, the words die on my tongue as Megan’s eyes roam down my body, lingering on where the towel is hanging low on my naked hips.
Her eyes move quickly, taking me all in, before darting back up to my face. Her cheeks are stained a dark red, and she gulps and averts her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your way so you can dress.”
Anyone else, and I might have dropped the towel, but not with Meg. I clutch the fabric in front of my junk because the way she is looking at me is doing things to my head. The wrong head.
I step aside as she hurries out of the room. She tries to surreptitiously get another eyeful, but I’m on to her.
When she rushes down the hallway like her ass is on fire, any heat I felt at the way she was looking at me deflates.
Scrubbing a hand over my head, I walk to the bedside and reach for my phone. There are a few messages, but I’m shocked at what time it is. How the hell did I not notice it’s after eleven PM?
“Jesus,” I mutter. She’s been here the whole day?
I hear her noises out in the living space and know what she is doing. Fuck that. Tossing the towel, I grab the first pair of shorts I can get my hands on, stepping into them quickly and moving down the hall. I feel a little lightheaded, but I’ll be damned if I let her leave now.
I’m right, she’s got her sneakers on and is slipping into her coat as she moves towards the front door.
“Megan.” I hold up my hands because Jesus fuck I made her jump again. “You can’t leave. ”
Her brow furrows and her hands clasp together. Right in front of me though, she shakes off whatever thoughts my words elicited. I’m fucking up all over the place here.
“I mean, it’s late, Meg. Like really late, I’d prefer you didn’t try to get back to Manhattan now.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says softly. “You still need rest.”
“How are you planning on getting home?” I cross my arms.
Her eyes are everywhere but on me. I should have grabbed a t-shirt, but how I look right now is the least of my worries. Is she going to just walk out of here and grab a cab, or worse, take the subway?
I’m suddenly furious at her.
How can she put herself at risk like that, just because she saw me in a towel?
“I’ll Uber,” she waves her phone in my direction, still not looking at me.
“You are not taking a cab home.”
“Well, you’re in no state to drive me,” she fidgets with her earlobe, staring at a point on the floor in front of where I’m standing.
“Megan.”
I move closer to her, but still keep some distance between us. She’s like a terrified rabbit, ready to dart away at the slightest movement. It breaks my damn heart.
“Did you miss work today?”
She chews on her bottom lip again as her eyes meet mine. “I didn’t want to leave you alone,” she says eventually, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hands are twisting in the sleeves of her jacket.
I hate she feels this nervous around me.
“Please, don’t go?”
“It’s late.”
“And I have two guest rooms you can choose from. I can’t drive you home. I don’t want you taking a cab this late. Please just stay, I’ll only worry about you and I’m pretty sure you don’t want me to spend my entire night worrying,” I cough to emphasize the point.
Megan’s eyes narrow at me. My lip twitches. But I placate her with my hands up again.
“The least I can do after all you’ve done for me today is let you stay here tonight, especially when it’s so late. The guest rooms are already made up. Don’t make a sick man beg,” I add with puppy dog eyes.
Her lips twitch as she tries not to smile at me, which I will take as a win. It’s only after I’ve made sure she’s eaten something and I’m showing her the guest room, I remember she hasn’t left the apartment all day. She skipped out on work.
For me.
I don’t know what to do with that. I leave her to get herself ready for bed in the en suite of my biggest guest room. After setting out one of my t-shirts and some shorts that will swamp her, I whistle as I head back to my room.