20. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Tanner
W hen someone knocks on the door, I stretch before going to answer it. I have my papers and laptop spread out on the dining table, trying to get some more work done since I left early today. I’ve also already told Richard I won’t be in tomorrow.
I open the door to find Derek on the other side. He hands me a bag.
“You have a key. You could have come in,” I tell him.
“I know. But this is the first time I’ve come over since you moved in,” he says as he follows me into the kitchen. “I wanted to respect your space.”
I snort. “None of you guys respect each others’ spaces. That’s how you like it.”
“Are you saying you want to be included in the extreme nosiness that is the Blue Vista crew and our significant others?”
I glance over my shoulder at him as I set the bag down. “Maybe.”
“I thought this arrangement was supposed to be temporary.”
I arch an eyebrow as I watch him. “What are you trying to say, Derek?”
He shrugs. “I kinda want you and Vic to stay together, that’s all. You’re good for her, I think. I shipped Adalie and Nate before they got together. Now I’m shipping you and Vic.”
I huff a laugh as I pull out the containers from the bag, setting them on the counter, recalling the rambling Vic had done right before I’d told her to rest. I’m not sure she knew she was saying the words out loud.
I was excited to go, spend the time alone with you. Maybe renegotiate our agreement regarding sex.
It left me wondering if she wants us to stay together, too. I’ve been distracted by the words ever since she went to sleep—and the naked breasts I’d seen when I took off her bra which has now been added to the memory of how she’d kissed me last week at dinner. Of course, she also has a fever of 103°F and is somewhat delirious. I called my doctor after I’d taken her temperature, and he said to monitor her and if it lasts longer than 24 hours or gets higher to bring her to a hospital. So far, it hasn’t.
In the meantime, I don’t know what to say to Derek. He’s standing here, waiting for me to say something, though, so I clear my throat.
“What are these? They’re still warm.”
Derek allows me to change the subject and comes closer, pointing to the first container. “Lis said she made chicken noodle soup and separated it into three containers. The first is broth only. It’ll be good for today when she’s having trouble keeping things down. The second has some of the noodles and vegetables and stuff, but less than the third. She said to put the third one in the freezer, the second one in the fridge for tomorrow. They’re warm because she finished cooking it all about twenty minutes ago.”
I do as he says, putting the containers away. I leave the one that’s just broth out so I can get her a bowl in a few minutes.
“How did you get roped into bringing it over?” I ask. “Didn’t you get back from your trip like yesterday?”
He’s leaning against the counter as he watches me move around the kitchen, getting a few things ready. I’ll make her some peppermint tea I found in the cupboard, so I pull her favourite mug from the dishwasher.
“Yeah. But Vic said she didn’t want anyone around her while she’s sick, since Lis and Adalie are pregnant. Ava isn’t, so I offered to come. Plus, I’m nosy. Wanted to see how you’re settling in here. I won’t be checking on her myself, obviously. I’ll leave that to you. Working from home today?” He tilts his head toward where I have everything set up.
“Today and tomorrow,” I tell him, setting the kettle on to boil and taking a small pot from the cupboard. The soup is still warm, but I’ll heat it a little before bringing it to her.
“How did Richard feel about that?” Derek asks.
“I don’t fucking care,” I say. “It’s his daughter that’s sick.”
Derek holds up his hands in surrender. “I know. I also know what kind of dick Vic’s father is. It’s a shame no one calls him that to his face.”
I nod, not looking at him. “I’ve tried to quit four times.”
“Really? Why haven’t you?”
I lift a shoulder in a half shrug. “He always seems to know and makes it difficult. Offering me raises, promotions, the whole business.” I roll my eyes.
“Do you… not want the business?” Derek asks.
Suddenly I realize I’ve said too much. Derek has always been easy to talk to. He’s open and amiable. But I can’t let him know that I’ve been in love with Vic since before we got married. I don’t want it getting back to her. I don’t need things to become awkward between us because she knows how I feel and she doesn’t feel the same. My feelings are my problem, not hers.
Then again… I consider her delirious words once more, then shake my head. “It’s a great opportunity,” I say.
“That’s not saying you want it, though.” Derek straightens. “Anyway, I’ll get going. Let us know if you need anything at all. One of us can bring it by.”
He heads out and I bring the soup, tea, and a refill of her water to Vic’s bedroom on a tray. I set it on her dresser, sitting next to her on the bed.
“Vic, baby, can you wake up for me?” I say softly, running a hand over her shoulder.
She mumbles something into her pillow.
“What’s that? I didn’t hear you?”
“I said I don’t want to,” she says, louder, but her voice is still kind of weak.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” She shakes her head. “Something bigger. A train.”
I chuckle. “Have you managed to sleep?”
“Not really. I’ve been having really vivid dreams.”
“About what?”
She opens her eyes, glassy with fever. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“I guarantee you, I will not think it’s stupid. They’re fever dreams. They’re supposed to be weird.” I smooth the hair back from her face. Her skin is still hot to the touch. I should check her temperature again before I give her the food.
“Nightmare stuff,” she says. “Spreadsheets not balancing, things I forgot to do. But they’re all things I have done. Last week.”
“Your brain is freaking out because you’re sick. You’re going to be okay. Derek brought over some soup for you. Can you eat some of it?”
Her brows crinkle slightly. “Derek brought it?”
“From Lis.”
“Ah.” She relaxes, her eyes drifting closed again. “I don’t know if I can have anything solid in my stomach right now.”
“It’s just chicken broth. I also made some peppermint tea and refilled your water.”
“Will you help me sit up?” she asks.
I place my hand behind her back, and she holds me as we sit her up in bed, propping some pillows behind her. Her head lolls to the side as though her neck isn’t strong enough to hold it up.
“Come on, gorgeous. Head back on the headboard. That’s right.” I help her move until she’s mostly sitting up.
Her voice cracks as she says, “Everything hurts.”
I watch as proud, strong Vic’s eyes fill with tears. I brush them away before they can do more than cling to her eyelashes.
“I know, baby. I have more Tylenol, and once you’ve eaten something, you’ll feel a little better.”
“I’m not, you know,” she says as I return to the dresser to get the tray.
“Not what?” I ask, setting it on her lap.
“Gorgeous. Maybe when I’m all dressed up, hair done, make up done. Not right now. I probably look like I lost a fight with someone.”
“You let me worry about how beautiful I think you are. Even when you look like you lost a fight. In the meantime, put this in your mouth.”
Her mouth kicks up in half a smile. “That was very sexual.”
I wink. “I meant for it to be. Open up.”
I hand her the thermometer, and we wait until it beeps, letting me know it’s ready. I take it out and let her start eating, sitting with her on the edge of her bed.
“Is it bad?” she asks.
“It’s not great. It hasn’t come down, but the doctor said not to worry unless it goes up, and it hasn’t done that either.” I’m lying. I’m freaking out. Her temperature is still sitting at 103°F. It’s true the doctor said not to worry if it doesn’t come down right away. He said to wait until tomorrow, but I want something done now. I want her better now .
She eats about half the bowl of broth, has a couple sips of tea, and none of the water, so I set it on her bedside table for later.
I help her settle again, smoothing her hair back. I would offer to brush it for her, since it’s all fallen out of the bun she’d made that morning, but she already has her eyes closed.
“You’re not going anywhere, right?” she asks, her voice soft.
“No. I’m just in the living room. I won’t be leaving.”
“What if you need something?”
“Derek said to call if we need anything. I won’t leave you, Vic.”
She sighs. “That’s good.”
Her breathing evens and I’m pretty sure she’s fallen asleep, or as close to it as she’s going to get while the fever grips her. I just wish there was more I could do.
I check on her frequently during the night and into the morning. I coax her to have more of the broth and more Tylenol. I track everything: when I took her temperature, what it was, when I gave her medicine or food or something to drink. At 11pm, I call the nurse’s hotline and explain everything.
“Sounds like you’re doing everything you can. Give it until morning and see if the fever breaks then.”
I pace. I hate feeling useless.
On the plus side, her fever doesn’t get worse, the Tylenol seems to help her sleep, and she’s eaten half a bowl of broth three times.
It comes as a huge relief, when at 3am, she gets up out of bed on her own because she says she has to go to the bathroom. I wait until she’s done and climbing back into bed to check her temperature again, noting it’s dropped to 100°F.
“Why are you even awake?” she asks when I tuck her back in.
I shrug. “I fell asleep watching a show. Heard you get up, figured I should check since I haven’t in a few hours.”
It’s only partially a lie. I did fall asleep watching a show, but I also never intended to go to my bed tonight. It’s too far away from hers on the other side of the apartment.
“Are you going to bed now, then?” she asks.
“Meh. I’m usually up in a couple hours, anyway. Might get some more work done so I can have a bit of a relaxed day.”
“Aren’t you going into the office?”
I shake my head. “I told Richard I’m staying home today.”
Her eyes drift closed. “I’m starting to feel better, Tanner. You don’t have to.”
“I already said I was. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be here all day. You’ll be sick of me before tonight.”
“I already am,” she grumbles halfheartedly. “Checking my temperature every two minutes. Forcing soup down my throat. You’re the most annoying person in the world.”
“Sorry, not sorry.” I lean down and press a kiss to her temple before I can think better of it, but I’m so relieved that she’s turned the corner. “Sleep. I’ll have more soup for you in the morning for breakfast.”
She huffs a laugh, peeking one eye open. “You’re lucky it’s good soup.”
I laugh as I stand. “I didn’t make it. I just warmed it up. You’re the lucky one with a professional chef for a friend.”
I leave her to get some more sleep. I make a pot of coffee then take a quick shower and change into fresh clothes while it brews—some sweatpants and a sweatshirt, because if I’m going to work from home, I might as well be comfortable. I pour the coffee and sit at the table where all my things are still spread out from last night.
Before I get started, I take off my glasses, resting my forehead in my hands, breathing deeply as I let go of all the fear the last fifteen hours have brought me, ever since I tried calling her and she didn’t answer. It’s foolish to have been so worried. She has the flu. She’s going to be fine.
But when someone you love is sick, you worry.