Chapter 10
Lyrical
The ringing of my doorbell woke me from a fitful sleep.
At first, I ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away. But the bell kept ringing. With a groan, I dragged my aching body to the door and looked through the peephole.
Well, well, well. Look who it is.
Crap. After the visit from Jesse’s father, I’d forgotten all about the dinner plans I had made. I certainly wasn’t able to follow through on them now.
Through the door, I called out, “I’m sorry, Tiguan. I got sick right after you left, and I didn’t have your number. I should have texted Jamie so you’d know I wouldn’t be able to go out tonight.”
“Open the door, Lyrical.”
“I don’t want you to catch this.”
“I will not get sick. I haven’t been sick since joining the Marines, so it’s unlikely to happen now.”
“Then you’re bound to get it twice as bad.”
“Lyrical,” he cajoled.
Sweetness…
“I don’t want you to see me like this. I probably look like death.”
“Sweetheart, you’re sick. Everyone looks like death when they’re sick. Now stop being so stubborn and open the damn door.”
He just wants to help you. Let him in.
Grumpily, I unbolted the door and opened it. “Happy now?” I vented.
“I will be once you let me in.”
Twice as grumpily, I stepped aside, holding the door open. “Fine. You wanna get sick, it’s on your head.”
Oh no. I covered my mouth with one hand and made a dash for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time to puke up a small amount of stomach bile. A hand reached around my head to cup my forehead in its palm, and the other brushed sweaty hair away from my face.
Poor baby. Let him take care of you.
When he felt me steady myself, he stood.
I heard a cupboard open, then water running.
I no longer cared whether he was here. My pride was gone.
I felt so terrible. Still crouched over the toilet, exhausted from vomiting, I felt a cool cloth being swiped across the back of my neck, then my forehead.
Gently, he helped me to sit on the floor and washed my face with another cool washcloth, paying particular attention to around my mouth and where tears had tracked from the violence of the retching.
I tried to joke. “Is this the dream date you were hoping for?”
“Sweet girl, I’m so sorry you’re sick. No, it’s not the night I was hoping for, but I’m happy to be here to help you get better. Now, let’s get that cute butt back into bed.”
He helped me stand so I could brush my teeth, then he swept me off the floor and carried me into my bedroom. Laying me down on the bed, he pulled the blankets over me and turned down my bedside lamp.
“I’m going to see if I can find you something to drink and some crackers or toast to help settle your stomach.” His hand brushed a few more stray hairs from my face. “Rest,” he ordered.
I must have fallen asleep almost immediately because the next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to voices in my living room. They were low, but I recognized them. Tiguan and Jamie.
Groaning, I sat up, pushing off the covers.
When I looked down, I noticed I wasn’t in my work clothes anymore.
Someone had put me in one of my tank-top nightgowns.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, although it was undoubtedly more comfortable than my sweater and jeans I’d been wearing when Tiguan arrived.
He was a perfect gentleman. I promise.
I made sure I was steady on my feet before tottering out into the living room, where the two men stood. There was a duffel bag on the sofa, a brown paper bag from the grocery store, and a plastic bag from the nearby pharmacy.
When Jamie noticed me coming down the hall, he waved. “Hey there, sickie. How ya doin’?”
“Come here and ask me again while I breathe on you,” I grumbled.
“That good, huh? Well, I guess it’s a good thing that Nurse Tiguan is here to take care of you.” He put out his hand toward the nurse in question, and they fist-bumped. “Catch ya later. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do,” he said.
Like a flash, Jamie was out the door. Tiguan bolted it behind him, then made his way over to me.
I’d barely stepped into the center of the room when he turned me around, propelling me back into my room and under the covers of the bed.
“Back to dreamland for you, sweetheart. You’re not getting out of this bed until at least tomorrow. ”
“Tiguan,” I whined, “I need to go to work tomorrow.”
“Not if you’re like this, you’re not. Probably not even if you’re feeling better. You don’t need to be spreading your germs to all the women and kids at the center.”
“But you don’t—”
“Right. I don’t get sick. But we’re not talking about me, so zip that lip. I’ll be right back.”
I lay there, staring at the ceiling. Honestly, I felt horrible and didn’t really want to get out of bed. Someone taking care of me sounded kind of pleasant right now, but I wasn’t used to it, so it made me grouchy.
A few minutes later, he returned with a tray. On it was a glass of what looked like ginger ale, a plate of crackers, a thermometer, some tissues, and some medicine.
He set the tray down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. “You haven’t thrown up for two hours, so that’s a good sign. Let’s see what else we’ve got going on.”
When I opened my mouth to protest that I was fine, he popped the thermometer under my tongue before I could say anything, then closed my mouth by tilting my head with his other hand.
I huffed and rolled my eyes.
“You’re cute when you’re irritated, even if you are germy,” he teased.
We sat in silence, waiting for the thermometer to beep. When it did, he turned up the light next to the bed slightly and leaned into the warm glow to read the display. “One hundred point two. Yeah, you’re not going anywhere.”
Next, he measured out liquid medicine into a cup and helped me sit up to drink it.
“You’re going to go back to sleep. When you wake up, you’ll have some soup and toast. Then, if you feel like it, a shower.
While you’re doing that, I’ll change the sheets and blankets, get you situated back in bed, and after some more medicine, back to sleep.
In the morning, we’ll revisit how you’re doing.
“I’m going to stay in your guest room tonight, so if you need anything, just shout out. Sleep, sweetheart.”
He moved the crackers and ginger ale onto the nightstand, turned the light back down so it barely lit the room, and picked up the tray. After he stood up, he kissed my forehead. “Sleep well.” I was out before he even left the room.