Chapter Thirty-Three
DYLAN
I t was not a soft landing back in New York.
First of all, Max called me on my return flight to announce Faye was doing a lot better and was scheduled to come back to work this coming week. While I was happy to hear she was doing well, I also knew it meant fewer shifts for me. I dreaded going back into the unemployment market and suffering through job interviews—if I even got invited to any.
Second, three days after we were back, I came down with the mother of all flus.
It wasn’t an ordinary virus; I seemed to sport every single symptom available, including ones that were brand-new: congestion, fever, a cough, a sore throat, an ear infection, and two pink eyes. My muscles ached, and my head felt like the home of a hundred-ton metal.
It was the first time in my life I’d found myself unable to take care of Grav properly.
Problem was I didn’t actually have any help available. Cal and Row were in London, Mama was in Staindrop, and my go-to person, Rhyland, was holed up in an important technology conference for the next three days. I knew he’d shelled out money on a booth for App-date to get some prelaunch hype, and he had back-to-back meetings with investors, so he couldn’t afford to get sick.
I also knew he literally couldn’t afford milk these days, so he needed this to hype up his app.
I had no choice. I found myself calling Tuckwad.
I rationalized to myself in a million different ways as I put the phone on speaker, holding it close to my mouth. I watched Gravity run aimlessly around the house, bored and cabin-fevered, begging for someone to entertain her.
He was going to stay here with us, not leave the house, so I’d be able to supervise them. And his last visit hadn’t been a complete disaster—they’d seemed to tolerate each other. Besides, maybe he needed to be thrown in at the deep end. That was what parenting was all about. Plus, I didn’t really care if he caught whatever plague this was.
He finally answered, sounding smugger than Conor McGregor getting ready for a bar fight. “Hey, hot stuff.”
God, I hated him.
“Hi, Tucker. I have a favor to ask…”
“Wow,” he bristled. “You sound like shit, dude.”
“Thank you.” I took a deep, steadying breath, willing myself not to scream. “I happen to feel it too. Which is why I’m calling.”
Silence. I waited for him to pick up on the unspoken request. Instead, there was silence, punctuated by, “And?”
“I’m calling because I know you don’t have a shift today, and I need help with Grav. Like, it would be great if you could come here and spend a few hours with her while I draw myself a bath and call in a doctor.”
Normally, I was too cheap not to drag my ass to the clinic, delirium and high fever be damned, but my instincts told me Gravity and Tucker weren’t ready to spend time with each other alone.
“Oh…” He trailed off, sounding put off by my request. “Well, this is kind of awkward, but I have a date today.”
Was he fucking kidding me? This was about our daughter and defining and establishing his role in her life.
“Tucker.” I bit down on my lower lip, the inside of my head hot and throbbing. “I could really use some help here. Gravity needs some human interaction. Soon enough, she’s going to figure out her mommy can’t really take care of her properly. It’ll freak her out.”
I was sweating, ice-cold and burning at the same time.
“Aren’t you being a little dramatic?” Tucker asked with faux sympathy. I hated when he did this—cooed at me while saying something really cutting. “It’s just the flu.”
“Know what?” I huffed. “Forge—”
“Fine! I’ll come, I’ll come.” He sounded supremely inconvenienced. “I’ll cancel my date for you.”
Somewhere in this universe, a woman owed me her life for sparing her from this asshole.
“Thanks,” I said tightly. “Your altruism doesn’t go unnoticed.”
“Can I just ask one small thing in return?”
“What?” Words could not describe how much I suffered each time I had to communicate with the bastard.
“I’m a little strapped for cash, and I would love it if your brother could—”
“Goodbye, Tuckwad.” I hung up in his face.
Tucker wasn’t coming.
Nobody was, and things got progressively worse.
I tried to watch some Grey’s Anatomy under the blankets while Grav sat next to me on her iPad, but I couldn’t focus on anything past my state of misery and exhaustion. Grav was completely helpless, and when I accidentally complained that her twitching was making me dizzy, she even almost tried to make me a cup of tea, but I talked her out of it.
At some point, I dragged myself to the bathroom and filled myself a bath, bringing her along with me. I sat her at the foot of the claw bathtub with some toys and made her swear she wouldn’t leave my side. The idea turned out to be one of my worst, though, as I accidentally dozed off in the tub, and I would have slipped under if it weren’t for my daughter screaming at me, “Mommy! Mommy! Wake up.”
“I’m okay.” I somehow managed to crawl out of the lukewarm bath and gently collapsed naked on the floor, unable to gather the energy to pull myself together.
Gravity sat on the other side of the bathroom studying me with her big, frightened eyes, and I hated that I couldn’t give her the most basic thing she needed: a balanced and strong adult to lean on.
“What can I do?” she whispered to me. “Tell me what to do, Mommy.”
Sweetie, I am so sorry. This was a big mistake. I cannot do this alone. As soon as I get better, we’re going to pack our things and move back with Grandma.
The words sat on the tip of my tongue. It took everything in me not to utter them out loud.
“Can you grab my phone from the coffee table in the living room, baby?” I croaked finally. I had to bite the bullet and call Tucker again. I’d figure out the situation with Row. Maybe let my brother turn him down personally so he’d shut up already.
Gravity ran out to the living room, and I fought to keep my eyes open, mainly for her.
“Slowly!”
A few seconds later, she returned, wobbling carefully along the corridor, my phone pressed to her ear. Who was she talking to?
“…yes. And then she took a nap in the tub!” Gravity snorted, covering her pink strawberry mouth with her chubby fist. “Silly Mommy! I had to wake her up.”
The person on the other end of the line was talking. I was anxious it was Tucker. And I was even more anxious he was going to say something idiotic, as he did so often.
“Now? Now she is being sleepy on the floor!” Gravity was at the bathroom door, still pressing the phone—which looked so big in comparison to her—to her ear. “I think she needs a grown-up. Yes, I can give her to you.” She passed me the phone. “It’s Uncle Rhyrand,” she whispered.
Horrified, I put the phone on speaker, too exhausted to hold it. “Hi,” I groaned.
“What’s this shit I’m hearing about you fucking dying and not calling me to come help?” he demanded, enraged.
Okey-dokey, no speaker next time.
“Are you dying?” Gravity cried out in horror. “Mommy, is that true?”
“No,” I whimpered. “No, honey, it’s a figure of speech. Tell her, Rhy.”
“No, little stinker, Mommy isn’t dying. I was being dramatic.” Pause. “But Uncle Rhyland wants to kill her for being so stubborn. I’m on my way now.”
I heard the steady flow of busy conversation and mic announcements in the background and remembered he was at an important work thing.
“Don’t,” I protested desperately. “I’m feeling better. I’m going to take more Tylenol right now.”
“No offense, Cosmos, but your stubbornly self-reliant ass is the reason I have trust issues.”
“Rude.” I tried to laugh, and my ribs screamed with pain.
“Just hang in there. I’m on my way.”
“Rhy, your conference…”
I’d already interfered in his life so much with all the babysitting, I didn’t want to be the reason he lost out on business opportunities too.
“Boring as shit,” he completed for me. “Plus, the booth is manned by two engineers and a PR guru I hired to mesmerize the crowd. They’re working their charm. There’s a twenty-person line waiting to see us.”
“Oh wow,” I whimpered. “That’s amazing.”
It didn’t escape me that both Tucker and Rhyland needed money. But whereas Rhyland spent every penny he didn’t have on paying me a salary for a made-up job so I could take care of my child (when he’d paid for a vasectomy as a teen), Tucker was constantly begging me to hook him up with Row so he could make a quick buck or borrow one. Tucker was also burning through his money in get-rich-quick schemes, I suspected, because he tended to receive upsetting texts that ruined his mood whenever I was around. The difference was staggering.
“So I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Hang in there.”
Thirty minutes later, Rhyland was feeding me wontons and chicken soup on my couch. He propped some pillows up so I could sit down comfortably, blowing gently on the spoonful of soup before bringing it to my lips.
Gravity sat in the breakfast nook across from us, enjoying a bento box from the same takeout place, with fries, teriyaki chicken, and fruit. We hadn’t eaten all day. I was so grateful I was close to tears.
“Motrin kicked in yet?” Rhy blew on my soup before guiding it to my mouth again.
I nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You need to alternate between Motrin and Tylenol for best results. The doctor should be here any minute.”
“Rhy, I’m so sorry—”
“Please shut up.” He looked a little pissed off, and I wondered if it was because of the conference or because I was mortifyingly embarrassed about him being here. “If I were in the same condition, I’d expect you to drop literally everything and wipe my ass.”
“Why? We don’t have that kind of relationship.” I blinked lethargically.
“Yes, we do,” he said. “I wasn’t gaslighting you back in Texas. We’re friends now, Cosmos. And friends show up for each other.” His nostrils flared. “I’ll always show up for you.”
A few minutes later, the doctor knocked on my door—a tan, lean, balding man who prescribed me some antibiotics after checking my throat. The doctor recommended I take another lukewarm bath to bring down the fever before bedtime. “This time with supervision,” he chuckled, because of course Grav had shared with him the fact that I fell asleep in the bathtub.
Rhyland put Gravity to bed, read her a good-night story, then drew me a bath. Having been pumped with antibiotics and Motrin/Tylenol the second half of the day, I felt significantly better. I sat in the tub, Rhy perched on the edge of it, and closed my eyes, giving in to the small pleasure of having him there.
“At least your conference went well.” I perked up, opening my eyes.
“About that…” Rhyland gave me a rueful smirk. “I lied. I didn’t want you to talk me out of coming here. There was no PR guru and no twenty-person line waiting to see my app.”
We were both quiet for a moment while I digested all this. For the first time in my life, I wanted to ask my brother for a loan. Not for me but for Rhyland. Only I knew he’d never accept it.
“But, I mean, it wasn’t terrible.” He forced out a smirk. “Some people came by. I exchanged business cards with a ton of tech bros, and those who stopped by my booth showed actual enthusiasm for the app, so we’ll see.”
“How can I help?” I asked.
“You can’t,” he said too quickly. “Bruce’ll sign the contract any day now—his lawyers are going over it right now—and then I’ll be gold.”
But the statement lacked the confident shine with which Rhyland usually delivered his words.
“Oh, by the way, I found out why he’s so traumatized by fuckboys.” His fingers swooshed the water, gently caressing the tips of my nipples. I was way too comfortable to be self-conscious in front of him.
“Yeah?” I purred with my eyes closed. “Why?”
“Tate. Apparently, he fucked him over by buying the lot he knew Bruce wanted to bury his dad in.”
“That’s disgusting.” I made a face. “Also, I wouldn’t consider Tate a fuckboy. A demon? Yes. A ghoul? Absolutely. The reason humanity doesn’t deserve nice things? Sounds about right. But not a fuckboy.”
“You’re probably right.”
“No. I’m always right.”
“Sassing back, I see.” His hand cupped my boob, dipping all the way into the water, and I moaned, instinctively arching myself, on offer to him. “Means you’re all better now.”
“Thank you for taking care of me.” I tipped my chin up, searching for his lips, and he leaned down, giving them to me in a gentle, unhurried kiss.
“Thank you for letting me,” he said. “I know how hard it is for you to let go.”
“You can take care of something else if you’re so inclined.” My hips bucked under the water, and I smirked at him. I was still feeling under the weather, but I wouldn’t say no to some good ole fingering. And Rhyland really knew how to strum my body strings like a guitar.
“Say no more, baby.”
He dove in, and I wondered when our bubble was going to burst.
Because it was pretty obvious something this good wasn’t meant to last.