36. Riley
After Archie throwsup for the first time, he gets progressively more miserable over the course of the next half hour. He throws up twice, and after the second time, I hold a hand to his forehead. His skin feels warm, and his cheeks are red.
“I think you have a fever,” I tell him gently. “Let me go ask your dad for a thermometer, okay?”
Archie nods, pressing his cheek against the toilet seat.
I go out to the kitchen, where Cole is standing at the counter, a grim look on his face.
“How is he?” he asks immediately when I emerge.
I sigh and shrug. “He’s definitely coming down with something. I’m out here to find a thermometer—I think he has a fever.”
Cole’s jaw tightens. “There’s one in the cabinet next to the sink.”
As I fetch the thermometer, Cole paces up and down next to the island, his hands wrung together. I’ve never seen him this jittery before.
Back in the bathroom, I take Archie’s temperature—one hundred point seven degrees. Definitely a fever.
“Oh, I’m sorry, buddy,” I say, grimacing in sympathy. “Looks like you’ve got a bug.”
Archie sniffles. “My tummy feels weird.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it does. But you’ll feel better soon. Come on, let’s get you some water.”
As I coax Archie into sipping some water, Cole hovers in the bathroom door, too obviously freaked out to be of much help. I want to reassure him, but all of my attention is focused on Archie.
“Are you sure you can’t drink more water?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “I’m gonna throw up again.”
“Okay. No more water right now,” I agree. “Let’s get you in bed with a trash can. I want you to try and drink water if you can help it.”
He nods in agreement, and I usher him down the hall. I tuck him into bed, and Cole lingers nearby. When we step out into the hallway, Cole grabs me by the upper arm.
“Is it a good idea to just put him to bed?” he asks, his voice tight. “Shouldn’t we take him to a hospital?”
My eyes widen. “A hospital? Oh, Cole, it’s just a stomach bug. There was probably something going around at his pre-K. He’ll be fine.”
“But how do you know?”
I smile, trying to reassure him. “Kids get sick sometimes. It happens. But Archie’s totally healthy otherwise, and he’ll be okay.”
Cole bites his lip, glancing back toward the room. I can’t tell whether or not I’ve managed to reassure him, but he doesn’t say anything else.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get him what he needs. Do you want to go downstairs and make a couple slices of toast while I get him some water?”
“Toast?”
“Something easy to eat,” I explain. “If he wakes up hungry, he should have access to food he’ll be able to keep down.”
Cole nods stiffly, as if I just gave him marching orders, and rushes down the stairs. Shaking my head, I get Archie a cup of water from the bathroom, then return to set it on his bedside table.
“Archie?” I say quietly. He makes a little noise that might be an acknowledgement. “I left you a trash can here in case you need to throw up, and there’s a cup of water on your nightstand. I want you to try sipping it, okay? As much as you think you can keep down.”
“Okay,” Archie mumbles.
I brush the sweaty hair back from his forehead. Poor kid. These kinds of bugs are always miserable.
But that doesn’t explain Cole’s outsized reaction. He’s acting like he thinks Archie is dying. To a certain extent, it makes sense—he’s under a lot of pressure, and is unaccustomed to being a parent.
I’ve never seen him like this before, though, and it’s almost terrifying.
* * *
Cole
Rileyand I are up late into the night, continually checking on and taking care of Archie. We bring him fresh cups of water, clean out the trash can, and try to coax him into eating a plain, unbuttered slice of toast.
Riley also digs through the infrequently-used medicine cabinet, searching for a kids’ fever reducer. She urges Archie to swallow a capful of it, and he frowns at the unpleasant taste of the thick, purple liquid.
Meanwhile, on her instruction, I pour cool water onto a hand towel, then fold it up to lay it across Archie’s forehead.
Riley is calm and collected throughout. She seems to feel bad for Archie, and talks to him softly, trying to comfort him, but she herself isn’t afraid.
I wish I could say the same. Fear grips me each time I look at the little boy, so small and fragile, bundled underneath his blankets, sweating out a fever. The weight of the responsibility I took on when I adopted Archie always weighs extra heavy at times like these.
Of course, Archie has been sick before. But each time he falls ill, or gets hurt, it’s the most stressful thing I’ve ever experienced—ten times more stressful than anything work related.
Riley continues to check Archie’s fever throughout the night. At around midnight, his temperature is at its highest—around one-oh-two. But after that, it starts to go down, little by little. Eventually, around two in the morning, the fever seems to break. His temperature is just a little bit higher than normal, and he finally settles into a real sleep.
“He’ll be able to sleep it off now,” Riley says, looking up at me with a smile.
“Good.” I exhale—the first time I’ve taken a deep breath in what feels like hours.
The two of us head downstairs for the living room, leaving Archie with a cup of water for if he wakes.
In the living room, Riley collapses onto a couch. She looks up at me with a weary smile. “Well, that’s probably the worst of it, huh?”
I nod, sinking down onto the sofa beside her. The second I’m off my feet, I realize just how exhausted I am.
Riley leans toward me. I glance down at her.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“For what?”
“For all of your help. And for keeping a level head.”
“I was just doing my job,” she says, a teasing note in her voice that I might be imagining.
“No way,” I reply, shaking my head. “That was above and beyond, and you know it.”
“He’s gonna be fine, you know.”
I take another deep breath, my gaze darting to the ceiling, past which Archie is probably fast asleep. “Yeah, I know.”
“Have you never dealt with a stomach bug before?” Now she’s definitely teasing me. “Like, when you were a kid? You know how this goes, right?”
“Of course I have,” I say. “It’s just…” I hesitate for a moment, then sigh. “I don’t mind sickness, but seeing Archie sick always gets to me. I’m supposed to care for him, you know?”
“And what have you been doing all night?”
I crack a weak grin. Riley lays her hand on my thigh supportively. “I know,” I say. “I’m just feeling a little… I don’t know. Emotionally raw.”
“That’s understandable. You’re tired, too, which probably isn’t helping.”
“It is late,” I agree, glancing over at the clock over the mantelpiece. It’s verging on three in the morning. I’m lucky it’s a weekend tomorrow, or I’d be exhausted in the office. “We should probably get some sleep.”
“Agreed.” Riley stretches, yawning, and the two of us trudge back upstairs. She pauses outside of Archie’s room, cracking the door open to peer in at him, and I follow suit. He’s fast asleep, snoring lightly.
“Thank god,” I mutter.
Riley smiles. “That’s a little better, right?”
Gently, so as not to make any noise, she pulls his bedroom door shut. She stands on tiptoe to plant a kiss on my lips, and I close my eyes, enjoying the warmth of her skin against mine.
Then she pulls back, looking up at me. “Good night,” she says softly. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”
I nod, feeling strangely frozen. She turns to go back to her room, and is almost to the door by the time I find my voice.
“Riley—wait.”
She pauses, her eyes wide with surprise.
The words almost stick in my throat, but I can’t stop myself from saying them. I can’t stand the thought of being without her for the rest of the night.
“Will you come stay the night with me?”
Her eyebrows raise at this suggestion, which is so brazenly against the rules we set. For a moment, I’m expecting her to protest, to point out this very fact. But she doesn’t. Instead, she just smiles, nodding.
“Sure,” she says. She moves over to take my hand. Her touch feels electric.
My king-sized bed finally feels the right size as she curls up beside me. I pull her into my arms, and she feels perfect in my embrace, her body pressed against mine.
For a little while, neither of us says anything, but I can tell by the sound of her breathing that she’s still awake. I break the silence after a few minutes. “I haven’t always been a good man,” I whisper, my thumb sliding across her bare shoulder.
She doesn’t respond, but hums softly to show me she’s listening.
“But I want to be,” I tell her. “I want to do right by Archie.”
“That’s not true,” she says quietly, sleep tugging at the edges of her voice.
“What do you mean?”
“What you said before—that’s not true. You are already a good man. I know it.”
I breathe in the sweet scent of her hair, grateful that she’s facing away from me and can’t see my expression. I want, so badly, to believe her.
I press a kiss to her shoulder, and she curls up tighter with a small, contented sigh. With Riley in my arms, it’s easy to close my eyes and let sleep wash over me.