Chapter 1
"Shh, don't say it out loud," he hisses.
I stare at him. "Why?!"
"I'll just go sit in the room. If everyone hears I'm sick, no one's gonna come near me."
I feel my shoulders drop at how serious he sounds. Marco shrugs. "Doesn't bother me," he says. "Don't be dumb, man. If they find out, they're just gonna throw themselves on you to make you feel better."
And that's when it clicks. He does this every time. Whenever he gets sick, it's like he locks himself in this little personal prison away from everyone, because in his head, we're all gonna go, 'ew, Gio is sick, get away from me, if you infect me I'm never talking to you again'.
And I hate it. I hate that his brain goes there first. I can't help wondering if people in Spain actually treated him like that when he was growing up.
If he learned this being-alone thing from somewhere. "Come here," I say, and start unzipping his jacket.
"First of all, don't stand around in wet clothes, you're gonna get worse."
He lets me peel the jacket off him, still shivering. "Second, go grab the thermometer and check your temperature. Third, go take a warm shower. I'll make you something to eat. If you skip any of these steps, we're breaking up."
Gio laughs through his chattering teeth. "The way you're talking to me, I feel like I'm Antonio." He looks over at him on the carpet, playing with Lorenzo and rubbing Daisy's belly.
I pull Gio in and hug him, running my fingers through his hair. "You're a baby too," I tell him. "You're just trapped in a very hot body. Literally hot right now. You're on fire."
He snorts.
"Go do what I said."
"Yes, sir," he murmurs, and finally shuffles off toward the bathroom. If he thinks he's gonna be sick and alone in this house, he really doesn't know me at all.
"Poor guy," Marco says. "What are we gonna make him?"
I open a couple of cupboards, scanning shelves. "I'm thinking chicken soup," I say. "And maybe some rice on the side."
Marco nods. "Yeah, agreed. Two or three days and he'll be fine. Let him at least enjoy New Year's, not be sick the whole time." He claps his hands once. "Alright, come on, start with the chicken, I'll chop carrots and put the rice on."
Then he pauses. "Actually, no. Leave the chicken to me too. Don't waste time. Make him some tea first and then go grab extra blankets for him. Take one of the heaters too, put it in your room. These degenerates out here don't need all three."
I smile and pull him into a quick hug. "I love you, Marco." "Aw, I love you too, Ravioli. Now move," he says, patting my back.
I start making the tea.
"Do you want us to keep Antonio tonight, so you don't have to worry about him too?" Marco asks. "I don't mind."
I glance toward Antonio. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, man. Relax. It's not good for Gio to wake up every half hour to check on him. You two should sleep like normal people."
I smile and nod. He's right. Obviously.
…
I walk into our room with a bowl and a mug of tea. I set them down on the nightstand. Gio is putting on a t-shirt. I grab a hoodie and hand it to him.
"I'm gonna overheat," he complains.
"Put it on." I shove it toward him until he takes it and pulls it over his head. "How high is the fever?"
"Guess."
"Gio."
"38.4."
I rub my eyes. I sigh. "Poor thing. Come here." I get him into bed and pull the blanket over him. The heater is already on, humming. I sit down on the edge of the bed and hand him the soup.
My hand automatically goes to his forehead again. "You wanted to play in the snow for two hours yesterday and two more today," I say, rubbing his hairline with my thumb.
"Yeah, sorry our son learned how to make snowmen, and I had to encourage him," he mutters.
I laugh. "You did the right thing, I know. Now eat, and after you're done, you'll take something for the fever, and then we'll lie down together and you'll relax."
"You're gonna stay with me?" he asks.
"Yes?!"
"But what if you get sick?"
"Gio," I say, annoyed and soft at the same time. "Stop. I literally do not care if I get sick. Taking care of you is more important. You say that to me all the time."
"It's not the same," he mumbles.
"How is it not the same?!" I ask.
He just shrugs and starts eating. His cheeks are bright red from the heat. There's scratching at the door. I get up and open it. Blu walks in like a gentleman.
Senor.
Like he's saying, how dare you forget me outside.
He goes straight to Gio's side of the bed and sits, staring at the bowl, waiting. Gio laughs. "I knew it. The second you hear cutlery, you magically appear." Blu wags his tail.
"How do you feel exactly?" I ask. "Anything other than the fever?" Gio thinks for a second. "My throat feels a bit dry."
I nod and turn to my bag, rummaging for the lozenges I bought at the pharmacy before we came.
"You'll have one of these after you eat."
"Yes, doctor."
"How's the food?"
"Perfect. It's boiling hot, but perfect."
"Marco made it," I say. "Now drink your tea."
He sets the bowl down and reaches for the mug. Blu immediately shifts his attention to the bowl. "Blu, sit," I tell him. "It's not dinner time yet."
Blu instantly sits, like if he stays very, very still, his dinner will arrive faster. Gio finishes his food, pushes the bowl a bit away. "Okay, stay here," I tell him. "I'll take these to the kitchen, grab the meds and come back."
He nods and keeps petting Blu. I step out and almost crash into Daisy in the hallway. "Move," she says, and slides past me into the room. "Hey," I hear her say to Gio. "You need anything? I have pills for the fever. I also have tissues. And nasal spray. And painkillers—"
"Daisy, I'm not dying, I just have a fever," Gio laughs.
"Well, yeah. Yeah, you're right. Okay," she says. "But ask me if you need anything, alright?"
He nods and she comes back out, falling into step next to me toward the kitchen. "Do you want us to keep Antonio tonight?" she asks. I laugh. "I already gave him to Marco. You guys can fight over him."
She snorts and peels off toward the living room. I grab the meds and water and head back to our room. I close the door behind me. I hand Gio a glass of water and a pill.
"This is to bring the fever down." He takes it and swallows it.
"Good. Now take this too," I say, unwrapping a lozenge.
"It's for your throat." He obeys, then pulls the blanket back up to his chin.
I climb under the covers too and slide closer, wrapping an arm around his neck and tugging him against me.
I stroke the side of his neck with my thumb, and he's holding onto me like I'm his pillow. He keeps shivering. It comes in little waves, his body trembles, then relaxes, then trembles again.
I kiss the top of his head and pull him even tighter against my chest, trying to make him as warm as possible. "Try to sleep," I murmur. "It'll help."
He nods. My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach over and grab it. The fuck? A message from a guy I haven't seen in... years. It's from a friend from university.
Back in Canada. We all met once when Noah and I went out to play pool. His name's Daniel.
We haven't talked in... three years?! What the hell. He's sent a post.
DANIEL:
- lol Sorry for the random DM, but this is such a throwback.
- this is peak exam-week you.
- saying you did terribly and then getting the highest mark again.
I laugh out loud.
I really didn't do that on purpose. Half those times I was sure I'd messed up my answers. But okay. I like that when people think of me, their brain goes "highest grade".
ME:
- Don't expose me like that. I swear I was actually convinced I failed every single time.
He sees it immediately. The "seen" pops up. Gio's head shifts on my chest, eyes half-open. He looks at the screen. "Who's that?" he asks.
"A friend from university. From Canada," I say. "I have no idea why he remembered me."
"He's probably horny," Gio mutters.
I choke on a laugh. "What? He's not flirting," I say, still laughing. "Calm down." I tilt the phone so he can see the chat too. "Come on, watch with me," I tell him.
The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again.
"Probably jerking off," Gio whispers.
I lose it completely. I'm shaking with silent laughter. "Stop," I hiss. "You're gonna turn me into a narcissist. You always think people are hitting on me."
"You should be a narcissist," he mumbles. "You're perfect." He grins a little.
"In the next message, tell him: Yeah, I remember exam week was literal hell. Also my husband is extremely attractive."
I wheeze. No sound comes out. I probably look like I'm dying more than he does.
"Right," I say between breaths. "Super relevant. He's gonna think I'm brain damaged."
"I know, I'm joking," Gio says softly. I lock my phone and toss it somewhere on the mattress without looking. My arms go straight back around him, pulling him tight against me. I run my fingers through his hair, again and again.
His forehead is still too hot on my neck. He slips his hand under my shirt. Just rests it on my chest. He squeezes once. Then just leaves his palm there.
I laugh again. "What was that?"
He shrugs. "What are we doing on New Year's?" he asks.
"I don't know," I say. "First step, you get better. Then we see."
"Antonio?" he mumbles.
"He's sleeping in Noah and Marco's room tonight so you can actually rest," I say. "No midnight patrol every half hour."
"Okay," he whispers. "Do you need me to bring you anything else?" I ask. He hums, thinking, and starts playing with our engagement ring on my finger, turning it slowly.
"Tell me again," he says quietly. "When did you realize you liked me?" I drop my head back on the pillow, smiling. "Gio, I've told that story like ninety-two times in the last few years."
"I don't care. Tell it again."
I sigh, laughing. "Fine. It was the day after our little 'fake' kiss at Sophia's party."
"I'm gonna throw up," he mutters.