Chapter 41 - Sunshine #2
"I don't see any sign of that."
"Maya-"
"I was supposed to manage things for one day, Angelica. It's been three."
I winced.
"Sorry."
"You should be."
"I'm serious. I'm sorry."
Maya sighed through the phone.
I glanced at Adrian.
He was watching me.
"He's better during the day," I said. "But his fever keeps rising every night. I can't leave him alone like that."
There was a pause.
"Okay."
"I called Claire this morning. She told me to take the week off."
"You did?"
"Yeah. What else can I do? He was better this morning, but I can't take any chances."
Adrian's eyes stayed on me.
I ignored him.
"Okay," Maya said. "But people are asking, Angelica."
I already knew where this was going.
"Why can't I just tell them the truth?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Please, Maya. Don't tell them."
"What exactly am I not supposed to tell them? That Adrian is sick?"
"That I'm here."
Silence.
Then-
"Right."
I closed my eyes.
"Maya."
"No, I'm just making sure I understand. Adrian Vale has disappeared from his own company for three days, you've disappeared at exactly the same time, and I'm supposed to make sure nobody discovers that you're currently living in his penthouse taking care of him."
"I'm not living here."
Adrian looked at me.
I looked at him.
Okay.
Technically, that argument was becoming increasingly difficult to defend.
"You've slept there twice."
"That doesn't mean I live here."
"Do you have clothes there?"
I didn't answer.
"Angelica."
"That's irrelevant."
Maya laughed.
"Please just make something up."
"What?"
"I don't know. Anything."
"What can I possibly make up for an entire week when both of you are gone?"
I frowned.
"You're creative."
"I'm an architect."
"Same thing."
"No, it isn't."
"Close enough."
Maya went quiet for a second.
Then-
"Fine. But when Ben starts a conspiracy board, this is your fault."
I laughed despite myself.
"He already has one, doesn't he?"
"Not yet."
A pause.
"Daniel might."
"That sounds more believable."
"Angelica."
"Okay. Sorry."
"You owe me."
"I know."
"A lot."
"I know."
"Possibly money."
"You're pushing it."
"Fine. Food."
"Deal."
"Expensive food."
"Maya."
"I'm hanging up now."
I smiled.
"Thank you."
"Yeah, yeah."
The call ended.
I lowered my phone.
Adrian was still looking at me.
"What?"
"You took the week off."
I stared at him.
"You heard that entire conversation."
"Yes."
"So why are you asking?"
"I wasn't asking."
Of course he wasn't.
I put my phone on the coffee table.
Adrian said nothing else.
But something about the way he looked at me had changed.
Just slightly.
After dinner, Adrian's fever started climbing again.
Not dramatically.
Not enough to scare me.
Just enough that the slight improvement he'd had all afternoon began disappearing.
He was sitting on the couch, staring at the television with the expression of a man personally offended by his own immune system.
I checked the thermometer.
"Bed."
"No."
I looked at him.
He kept looking at the television.
I pointed toward the stairs.
"Bed."
"I heard you."
"Excellent. Then we can skip the hearing test. Go."
"I've spent three days in bed."
"You're sick."
"I hate my bed."
"Then you can hate it horizontally."
His eyes moved to me.
I smiled.
He did not.
"Upstairs."
"No."
"Adrian."
"Angelica."
Oh.
We were doing this.
I folded my arms.
"You have a fever."
"I have a couch."
"You have a bed."
"The couch is fine."
"The bed is better."
"For whom?"
"For me."
His eyebrows lifted.
I realized what I'd said.
"For my sanity," I corrected. "Because if your fever gets worse again, I'd prefer you already be somewhere designed for unconscious people."
"Beds aren't designed for unconscious people."
"Neither are CEOs, and yet here we are."
His mouth moved.
I pointed upstairs again.
"Bed."
He stared at me.
I stared back.
Several seconds passed.
Then Adrian sighed and stood.
Victory.
I smiled.
"See? You're trainable."
"Don't push it."
I followed him toward the stairs.
"I've already discovered that you're surprisingly manageable when your temperature is above one hundred two."
He stopped on the first step and looked back at me.
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late."
Nothing unexpected happened that night.
Which, considering the previous night, was probably for the best.
Adrian's fever stayed with him, but it never climbed high enough to frighten me.
Mostly, he slept.
I stayed.
Every hour, my alarm went off.
Every hour, I got up from the sofa in the corner of his bedroom, crossed the room, and checked him.
Forehead.
Temperature.
Water.
Blanket.
Breathing.
Then back to the sofa.
The first few times, Adrian barely reacted.
Sometime after midnight, I pressed my hand against his forehead and his eyes opened.
"Again?"
"Yes."
"You checked an hour ago."
"Congratulations. You can tell time."
His eyes closed.
"Go to sleep."
"I am sleeping."
"No, you're monitoring me."
"Same thing."
"It isn't."
"You're sick. Your opinion doesn't count."
He was too tired to argue.
That might have been a first.
I checked the thermometer.
Still feverish.
But manageable.
"Go back to sleep."
His eyes stayed closed.
"You too."
I looked at him.
He was already drifting off again.
"Bossy."
His mouth moved slightly.
Interesting coming from him.
I went back to the sofa.
At some point, the hourly alarms stopped feeling quite so brutal.
I actually slept between them.
Not well.
Not deeply.
But enough.
And every time I woke, Adrian was still there.
Sleeping.
Breathing normally.
Feverish, but not burning.
So I checked him.
Went back to the sofa.
Pulled the blanket over myself.
And slept again.
For the first time since he'd gotten sick, the night felt almost uneventful.
I had never been so grateful for boring.
Thursday morning, Adrian looked better.
Actually better.
Not I'm going to claim I'm fine because I hate being sick better.
Better enough that he ate breakfast without an argument, walked around the penthouse without me monitoring every step, and had not developed another alarming fever since sometime during the night.
His temperature was still slightly elevated.
But barely.
Progress.
I was putting our breakfast dishes into the dishwasher when Adrian appeared in the kitchen.
"Have you seen my phone?"
I looked at him.
"No."
"It was downstairs."
"That narrows it down to approximately four thousand square feet."
His eyes narrowed.
I smiled.
"Where did you have it last?"
"If I knew that, I wouldn't be looking for it."
"Excellent point."
He checked the kitchen counter.
Nothing.
Then the dining table.
Nothing.
I looked around.
"Want me to call it?"
"Yes."
I pulled out my phone.
Adrian was already walking toward the living room.
I found his number and pressed call.
A phone started ringing somewhere behind me.
"There."
I followed the sound into the living room.
It was on the side table beside the couch, half-hidden beneath a magazine.
I reached for it.
And stopped.
My picture wasn't on the screen.
Neither was my full name.
There was just one word beneath the incoming-call icon.
For a second, I didn't understand what I was looking at.
Then I did.
And something inside my chest went very still.
I stared at the screen until the call ended.
The room went quiet again.
I picked up his phone.
Adrian came into the room.
"Found it?"
I looked at him.
"You saved my name as Sunshine?"
He stopped.
His eyes went to the phone in my hand.
And I saw the exact moment he remembered.
He'd forgotten.
That was why he'd told me to call.
"When did you do that?"
Adrian didn't answer.
I waited.
"When?"
"A while ago."
I looked at him.
"How long is a while?"
Silence.
Adrian held out his hand.
I didn't give him the phone.
"You won't tell me?"
"No."
I searched his face.
"Why not?"
His hand stayed between us.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then-
"Because you don't need to know everything."
It should have sounded like Adrian.
Cold.
Closed.
Final.
It didn't.
Not this time.
This time, it sounded like there was something behind the answer he didn't want me to reach.
And suddenly I wanted the answer more than I should have.
Because there was a difference between last week and last month.
There was a difference between after I resigned and before.
There was a difference between after the parking lot and-
I stopped.
Because suddenly when wasn't the only question.
I looked at him.
"Why?"
Adrian's expression didn't change.
"Why did you save my name as Sunshine?"
Silence.
This time, he didn't even pretend to have an answer.
He just looked at me.
And somehow that got to me more than if he'd said something.
Because I knew Adrian.
He didn't do things without a reason.
Especially things like this.
There was a reason.
He just wasn't going to give it to me.
I finally put the phone in his hand.
His fingers brushed mine as he took it.
Neither of us moved for a second.
Then I let go.
Adrian looked at me.
I looked away.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're quiet."
I looked back at him.
"Would you prefer I make fun of you?"
"No."
"Then enjoy it."
His mouth moved slightly.
I turned toward the kitchen.
But I could feel his eyes on me.
And annoyingly, I could still see that screen in my head.
I didn't know when.
I didn't know why.
And apparently I wasn't going to find out.
Fine.
I could live with that.
Probably.
By Thursday afternoon, Adrian had apparently decided that being slightly less sick meant he was no longer sick at all.
I discovered this when I walked into the living room and found him sitting on the couch with his laptop open.
I stopped.
He looked up.
I looked at the laptop.
Then at him.
"No."
His eyebrows pulled together.
"No what?"
"No working."
"I'm checking my email."
"That's working."
"Reading isn't working."
"Reading work emails is working."
"I own the company."