Chapter 14 #2
Like a hot potato, I drop the cookies. “I'll water down her juice, and crackers it is.”
“Perfect.”
For a moment, I reflect on how it’s a new situation for our dynamic. Me seeking her advice on parenting. It might take a little getting used to. “Thanks. I’ll text later. I need to get back to Lola.”
“Of course, I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. No need to get sappy,” I tease her. “Love ya, too.” Then I hang up.
A little while later, the doorman lets me know that Elodie is here, and I’m already waiting for her by my open front door. She exits the elevator, and I’m already impressed that she seems calm and collected.
“I’m still salty over your flower outburst, but we have something more important to deal with. What’s wrong?”
She is intent on crossing the threshold into my penthouse, but I throw my palm up to stop her from entering.
“Hold up there, sweetheart. We have a situation.”
Now panic begins to set in, and wrinkles form on her forehead. “What?” She’s already trying to peek over my shoulder, and all we hear is the television on.
I grimace. “We got home, and spots started to appear. I already phoned the pediatrician. What are the chances you’ve had chickenpox?”
Her jaw drops. “No,” she gasps, but seems unsurprised. “I knew there was a chance after one of the other daycare kids had it.”
“Call me a doctor, but are you sure you’ve had it or the shot before?”
“Yeah, I have. Wait, I think I have. I’m sure my parents mentioned.” She seems to be doubting herself.
“I’m positive that if you haven’t, then this is a no-enter zone for you, so you may want to double-check.”
She pushes me to the side. “I don’t care.”
But I grab her wrist and reel her back to me and give her a pointed stare. “Elodie, adults getting chickenpox is dangerous. Let’s not put you at risk. It’s the last thing we need. Listen to me as the older and wiser one. Can’t you call your mom and ask?”
She seems annoyed but then wrestles with herself because she grasps that I’m right. “Yeah.”
I smile softly in reassurance. “I’ve asked downstairs to send someone for that oatmeal bath stuff, and apparently there is some spray. It should be here soon. You can call your mom and go check downstairs,” I suggest.
Elodie blows out a long breath. “You’re right.” She still attempts to get a view and stands on her tiptoes. “Is she crying a lot?”
“She’s doing well, actually. Just watching cartoons with Bagel and Berry.”
She mopes back into the hallway. “Wait, how did you know all of the things to get?”
“The internet. It’s called the internet,” I wryly reply, and she gives me the tiniest of smiles before she heads to the elevator.
I return to the living room to see Lola now sleeping. Switching off the television, I kneel down, sit on the edge of the couch, and tuck the blanket around her and her animals. Watching her is one of my favorite pastimes. She always has this tiny snore. I hope all of her dreams are good ones.
Five minutes later, I hear the faint click of the front door, and soon after, Elodie appears in the living room carrying a bag. She stalls and a half-smile shades her face as she looks on at the scene.
“All in the clear then?” I say in a low voice.
Her free hand comes to her heart. “Thank goodness, yeah. She’s sleeping?”
I nod. “Out like a light.”
She holds up the bag as she approaches us.
“Your list… I’m positive new coloring books weren’t a necessity.
” She leans down and grabs a few throw pillows, carefully placing them around Lola.
I now understand that she is creating an extra safety area on the already giant sofa.
The back of her fingers very faintly feather Lola’s cheeks before swiping her hair to her side. “She isn’t too warm,” she whispers.
“A little more than normal, no?”
“Mmhmm. Come on,” she tells me and indicates with her head. When we reach the kitchen area of my open-plan living room, her steps slow, and she spins to perch on the opposite kitchen counter. Her eyes flick up to meet mine as her lips purse.
“What’s first on the agenda? Oat bath?” I ask.
“When she wakes, I’ll take her home.” She means it harmlessly, but I don’t like it.
I take a few calculated steps closer to her. Enough distance between us, but not enough to be free from danger. “No,” I inform her firmly.
Elodie seems taken aback. “No?”
“It makes zero sense to move her right now. She has her own room here.”
Her lips roll in, and she glances to the side, away from my daggered eyes on her. “She hasn’t slept over yet, her room is new, too.” It’s almost inaudible. She is internally weighing her options.
But I have only one option to choose from. “You are sleeping over, too.”
Her eyes nearly bug out. “What?”
I light a dim half-smirk. “It’s probably comfortable for you to stay and will help Lola get used to being here more.”
She bobbles her head side to side and crosses her arms low on her stomach. “Bu—”
I’m quick to interrupt her. “It’s not an option, Elodie. I’ve made the decision already.”
“So you demand it.” Her eyes are set on me, and she's irritated.
“I’m allowed to make demands, Elodie. Considering I missed…
” I catch myself speaking in a hard tone, and I don’t finish the sentence.
Now isn’t the time to throw jabs. Elodie keeps her lips tightly closed, and her struggle proves it.
Taking a deep breath, I reset myself. “Still, you are not leaving.”
“I don’t have any of her clothes here.”
Snickering a sound, I remind her of what she already knows. “Really? Have you seen her room?”
Her eyes divert away from me. “Fair point,” she mumbles, but then livens when she seems to have another idea.
“I don’t have my things.” I find it cute the reasons she comes up with.
I figured it out fast. She couldn’t give a rat's ass about logistics; she’s trying to avoid a situation.
One that I’m more than happy to address.
A few strides and I’m right in front of her, making a point to brush against her body as I reach into the cabinet above her to grab a glass for a drink I don’t even want.
“I’m positive lacking clothes is not a problem,” I taunt. That electrical current between us causes my body to react, my heartbeat quickens slightly, the urge to touch her is strong, and a feeling swells that I want her here, with no escape.
She smiles contritely at me. “Cute.”
I place the glass on the counter and lean my hip against the edge, angling toward Elodie, watching her. It’s fun. “I have clothes you can borrow.”
“Now I’m staying and wearing your shirts.” There is a hint of amusement there.
“I’ll send someone to some stores so you can have things as well.”
“What a millionaire thing to say. One click.” She snaps her fingers.
“And the problem is solved with money,” she teases me, because so far, I’ve had no indication that she cares about my bank account.
Her smile begins to fade. “But… you’re right.
” She’s serious and turns to face me. “It’s best to let her rest.”
“Good.” We get lost for a few seconds in a stare-off. “There are clean sheets on my bed too.”
I give her points for keeping a straight face. “That’s very presumptuous of you, especially when I know there are bedroom options.”
“Uhm, I’m not sure there are.”
She cackles a sound and gently shakes her head. “Shocker. You’re not giving up,” she replies dryly yet the smile is there.
Smugness swells with a smirk. “I’ll order in some dinner. It could be a long night.”
Her eyes grow bold, and I chuckle. “I mean with Lola. The chickenpox,” I remind her.
She bats her lashes. “Oh, right, yeah.”
“So I’m ordering in Chinese for dinner? Opening a bottle of white?”
“Now, I’m having dinner with you, and apparently sleeping in your bed.” She points a finger at me in warning. “Not yet answered.”
She rubs her face and makes a sound in frustration, but the moment her hands fall away, I see a small smile. “Twenty-four hours. That’s all it’s been.”
“For what?”
“Let me see. In the span of 24 hours, I’ve had sex with you in a bathroom stall, experienced your outburst over flowers, our daughter gets chickenpox, and now I’m staying here.”
My head lolls to the side, and my tongue pushes inside my cheek while I absorb the day that will definitely go down in our history book. I’ve driven us right into all of those scenarios, and never break a good habit.
“So, that’s a yes to eggrolls?”