Chapter 5
Francesca
“This will help.” I heard a familiar voice say.
“Are you sure?” Stefan's worried voice asked.
What was he so concerned about? I opened my dry eyes to see Dr. Vitale and Stefan looking down at me. “Why are you here?” I asked, except no sound came out of my dry, raw throat.
“Mrs. Sovrano,” the doctor said. “You're dehydrated. We're giving you some fluids.”
I frowned and looked down at my hand where someone had stuck an IV catheter. Then I noticed a small piece of cotton and tape in the crook of my arm. “Did you take blood?” I frowned and couldn't remember waking up to get blood drawn.
“Yes,” Dr. Vitale said. “You slept right through it.” Her eyebrows rose.
I frowned harder. “I did?”
She nodded.
Then I asked her, “What's my white cell count?”
She grinned and said, “Normal. It's just a virus. One that you're having trouble kicking.” She glanced over at Stefan. “Your husband called when he couldn't rouse you. It's a good thing he did. You're desperately in need of fluids.”
I immediately looked at Stefan. “But you're sick, too?” I said, my eyes looking at him and not quite believing what I was seeing.
Because he looked—fine.
Great, even.
No sign of a fever or illness.
At all.
I was so confused.
“I'm better,” he said and picked up the hand that didn't have a needle stuck in it.
“Two days is a long time to have such a high temperature. Especially since you couldn't replace the fluids you were losing. You should be feeling better soon. We added an anti-nausea drug as well.”
This all seemed—crazy. I'd never in my life been this sick. Not once.
“Take care, Mrs. Sovrano. I'm leaving one of my nurses here to change your IV bag and keep an eye on you for a while.” She turned to Stefan. “Mr. Sovrano, we'll keep in touch. I'll see myself out.” And then she left.
Stefan moved my legs over a bit so he could sit on the bed. “How are you feeling now?”
I peered around the room. There was a mountain of towels and washcloths beside the bed. Stefan must've wiped me down when I was sleeping.
A lot.
“Was I really sick for two days?” I asked him, finding it hard to believe.
“You don't remember anything?” he asked, touching my forehead with his hand.
I shrugged. “Not much. Just a lot of bathroom visits, I guess.”
He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “Yeah, definitely a lot of those. My arms got quite a workout.” He smiled a warm, loving grin at me. He looked—and smelled—so good. Like he'd showered and dressed not that long ago.
I on the other hand must look and smell like garbage. At least my mouth did for sure.
“Can I have water? And a shower?”
Stefan stood and peered down at me with his hands on his hips. “I don't know. Every time you drank something, it came up right away.” He frowned and looked like he was in deep thought.
“The doctor put Mrs. Sovrano on anti-nauseants. I'll bring up some water and juice,” the nurse said as she poked her head around the corner briefly before she ducked back out.
“Why does that sound so good?”
Stefan laughed and then sighed loudly. “Maybe because you haven't had anything in your stomach for two days?”
My hands slipped over my belly—my very, very, very empty belly. “It feels like I've done a billion sit-ups.” I set my hands on the bed and attempted to push myself up.
Stefan leaned down in an instant to help, stuffing pillows behind my back.
“That feels better. Thanks.” And it did. Plus, my head didn't feel all woozy or like the room was spinning.
It wasn’t long before the nurse walked back into the room with a silver tray. “Here we go, Mrs. Sovrano.” I spotted small glasses of ice water and orange juice. Stefan met the nurse halfway and thanked her. Then he carried it to me and set it on my lap.
There was a plate with something that looked like an ice pop. I thought it was probably wiser to start with the water. So, I took a few sips to see how that went.
And it was perfect. The cool liquid ran into my dry mouth and down my throat. I put the glass down and picked up the orange juice. The sweetness set my taste buds on high alert, and I winced while they got used to it.
A few sips later, and I felt full. “That ice pop looks so good.” I shook my head. “I just don't think I can eat it right now. But I'd love a shower.”
Stefan pursed his lips together for a moment. “I don't think you can with that in your hand.” He gazed at my IV with concern.
“Maybe the nurse has a waterproof barrier I can use.”
He nodded. “I'll go ask her.”
I watched him stride out of the room, still amazed at how well he was—and how sick I was. The bedroom was worse than I'd initially seen. Now that I looked around, I saw piles of what I guessed were bed sheets and T-shirts strewn all around.
Gosh.
It looked like someone had fought a war in here.
How many of Stefan's T-shirts did I go through?
It wasn't long before Stefan wandered back in. “She said to wait a half hour or so to let your stomach settle. And then she'll come in and cover your hand.” He started picking up the room. Which honestly surprised the heck out of me.
In a place this huge, I'd assume he needed a large staff of people to look after it.
But here he was—stuffing dirty laundry into big white bags.
I looked back over at the melting ice pop on the plate and decided to give it a go.
I picked it up and took a quick lick. “Mm, grape. My favorite,” I muttered before sucking on it.
Stefan glanced briefly at me and grinned. “Taste good?” he asked before pulling the drawstring on the laundry bag.
I nodded and kept working on my ice pop, taking intermittent sips of water and juice, too. Stefan worked on the laundry situation. At one point, he disappeared into the bathroom for a minute and came back with a huge armful of used towels.
Yikes.
“Looks like I'm going to be busy doing laundry today,” I said as I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand.
Stefan turned to me with a smile. “I'm sending it out. I have a service.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Besides, you're in no shape to do anything except rehydrate.”
Oh, of course, he had a laundry service. I didn't even think of that. “You don't have a washing machine or a dryer?” I asked, biting off the last part of the ice pop.
“I'll show you the laundry room once you're back on your feet.” He laughed and picked up two of the overstuffed laundry bags and walked out of the room with them, one in each hand. He didn't seem to have any difficulty at all carrying them.
He came back in and headed to the bathroom for a second.
Then came back out with folded sheets in his arms. “Tell me what kind of juices you like, and I'll get them for you.” He grabbed his pillow and pulled off the pillowcase, and tossed it on the floor.
Then he grabbed another pillow and did the same thing.
“I'm not picky. I'll take whatever you've got.” I picked up the orange juice and drank half of it. Even though I knew I should take it easy. It just tasted too good, and my body was practically screaming for it.
“That wasn't what I asked.” His eyes landed on mine. “I asked what you liked.”
I shook my head and shrugged. “Really, Stefan. I'm good with anything. You don't need to make a fuss over me. I've been enough of a bother,” I stated the obvious. It looked like he’d done nothing else other than take care of me.
“You've been home for two days and haven't left the house,” I said before remembering how he'd sped off in his car in a fit of anger. I didn't know where he'd disappeared to, but now was not the time to ask. We could go over that later.
Or never.
It didn't really matter to me. Stefan could go anywhere he wanted. Whenever he wanted. He was under no obligation to let me know.
He stared at me for a long moment as if he was thinking the same thing I was.
Finally, he said, “I've been home with you since you got sick.” A look of what looked like remorse crossed his face.
“Haven't left your side since then.” He swallowed and went back to stripping the bed.
Once he'd pulled almost everything off, he moved me—and the tray—onto a chair while he put fresh sheets on.
The nurse walked in just as he was finishing up. “All right, how do you feel?” she asked with a familiar looking patch in her hands.
“Weak,” I answered. “But my stomach is fine.” I held out the hand that had the IV in it for her.
“Good.” She smiled and held up what was in her hands. “I've got this as your reward.”
I let out a giggle as she temporarily unhooked the IV tube and stuck the barrier onto my hand to cover the catheter. “Thanks.”
She nodded and finished up. “Still be mindful of it. Nothing creates a perfect seal. But it's pretty close.”
I thanked her again and tried to stand.
“Wait!” Stefan called while filling another laundry bag. “I'll help you.”
I raised my eyebrows at the nurse, and she smiled. “Let me know when you're out, and I'll remove it for you.” With that, she left the room.
“Give me a minute,” he said, walking toward the bathroom. Once again, he disappeared in there. Sounds of something being moved echoed out into the bedroom. Finally, he came out—in only his boxer briefs. My eyes nearly popped out.
“What—” I asked, my eyes trailing up and down his body as he strode to me. “What—are you doing?”
A devilish smirk crossed his face. “We're taking a shower. He took the tray from my lap and set it on the bed. Then he picked me up—one arm under my legs, one behind my back.
“Stefan, I'm sure I can walk on my own,” I insisted and wondered how many times over the last forty-eight hours he'd carried me to that bathroom.
“And I can carry you,” was his only response.
I bit my lip and tried not to breathe on him. My hand covered my mouth to make sure.
“Are you going to be sick?” Stefan asked and sped up his pace.
“No, no,” I said and felt terrible for worrying him. “I'm trying not to breathe on you,” I explained. “I'm sure my breath smells like hot garbage.”