Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Ewan
On the second afternoon, Maddie sits up in bed rubbing her temples. “Ow, ow, ow, oh my god, headache!”
Pascal’s shaggy head comes up and his ears point in her direction.
I sit up instantly and ask her what’s the matter.
Maddie moans and presses the meat of her palms into her eye sockets.
“Maddie? What’s going on?”
“Oh wait…” she whimpers. “I know what this is. I’ve been so sick I haven’t had any coffee. This feels like a caffeine withdrawal headache.”
I throw off my blanket. “Sit tight, I’ve got you.”
“No,” she says. “Let me do it. I need to get out of this bed.”
Before I can stop her, she makes a beeline for the stairs.
Looks like she’s feeling better, but I’m still not taking my eyes off her. I will never shake the memory of finding my wife face down on the floor. If she falls down the stairs or hits her head in the kitchen, I’ll never forgive myself.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Maddie busies herself making coffee, then mutters something about wanting solid food.
“The pickings are slim in this house. I’ll run out and get you something. What do you want?”
She turns around. “You mean you’re going to leave me alone for ten minutes?”
“No, I’ll text Rowdy and have one of the girls come over.”
She turns and shakes her head with a smile. “If you’re hanging around Songbird Ridge for any amount of time, you might as well go ahead and put Ari and Riley in your phone. I’ll start a new text thread for everyone if that makes you feel more comfortable.”
“Sounds good.”
“And Foster and Rowdy, too.”
I say nothing, not wanting to tell her that Rowdy and I do sometimes keep in touch. I feel like a jerk about hiding that. I feel like I’ve been a jerk about a lot of things.
The coffee brews while she fires off a couple of text messages. “I’ll try not to take your silence as jealousy,” Maddie says with a smirk. “Just so you know, I’m only messaging Ari to tell her to meet me for lunch if she can get out of the office.”
“I wasn’t worried,” I say. “But, you’re not going out of the house for lunch.”
Maddie laughs. “Not without a shower first, no. But I’m starving and I want to see my friends.”
She’s not getting it. “I know you’re feeling a little better, but you can’t shoot yourself out of a cannon just because the full-body shivers have stopped.”
“I’m fine,” she says, just as stubborn as ever.
“Your priorities are out of whack.”
Maddie’s expression turns to annoyance. “Really? Are we back to arguing about priorities? Jeez, you’ve been back in town for a couple of weeks and now you’re in charge of my life?”
I wince. I let that go for now. “Maddie, I’m sorry for ever telling you your goals were not realistic.”
“Delusional,” she says. “You said my dreams were delusional.”
My stomach rolls with regret. “I wish I could go back in time and kick my own ass. Again. I’m sorry.”
She pours two cups of coffee and hands me one. “I forgive you. For that. And I’m sorry for the hurtful things I said to you.”
Together we drink our coffee in silence.
The caffeine hits her veins, and her head lolls back, exposing her throat. It’s all kinds of wrong to think about kissing the skin right there, but the orgasm noises are making me really fucking hard at the moment.
“Glad the coffee is making your head feel better,” I say.
Thank god, her friends are levelheaded about her current condition. Maddie frowns at the text messages coming in. She sighs, “Ari and Riley are both telling me to stay home, but they’ll bring me some pot pie from the Bluejay Cafe.”
“If you won’t listen to me, listen to your friends,” I say.
“I have so much to do, though,” she says. “Emails are piling up on my work account, I just know it.”
“So?”
“So, I have a business to run!”
“You can run it when you’re healed.”
“I’m going to go stir crazy. I can’t lie in bed for days and days. I’m bored out of my mind.”
I don’t reply to that because my dirty mind is conjuring all sorts of boredom-breaking activities we could do together.
Which would be so out of line for me to suggest to someone still at risk for a flu relapse.
But my god, it’s been too long. And her scent, even when she’s sick as a dog, is homey and familiar and turning me on.
“What are you staring at me like that for?”
I shake my head. “I was just remembering something we did in this kitchen once or twice. Right here at this table. And on that countertop behind you. And in at least three of these chairs…”
Maddie’s jaw drops. “Oh god, are you serious? I’m a sick woman! You can’t be sexually harassing your patient, doctor.”
I detect the laughter in her tone of voice. “Gotcha. So you do admit to still being sick. Sit your ass on the sofa, turn on The Price is Right, and I’ll bring you the food when it gets here.”
Instead, Maddie brushes past me and bounds up the stairs, with Pascal right on her heels, and me right behind Pascal. I’m not letting her out of my sight, just in case.
Then, Maddie does something I’m truly not ready for. As soon as she hits the bedroom doorway, she drops her robe, shucks off her pajama shorts, and tugs off her shirt, leaving a trail of clothing from the hall doorway to the ensuite bathroom.
I get a generous view of side boob. She’s even more gorgeous than I remember. With a few extra pounds on her frame, her breasts are now delicious, perky handfuls.
I catch myself making a straight line to follow her into the bathroom, then pivot the other way.
“Shit, Maddie,” I rasp, backing into the hallway to give her some privacy.
Over the noise of the shower starting, she shouts, “I am odorific after lying in bed for so long. I’m disgusting!”
As I pick up her discarded clothing, she kicks off her underwear and tosses them into the bedroom. I pick those up too, trying desperately not to make eye contact with her naked self. I’m also uncomfortably aware of the scent coming off her panties.
Out of politeness, I close the bathroom door.
Through the door, I hear her tease, “What, you mean I get to be alone in the shower? It’s a miracle.”
“Your wife is sick. Your wife is sick,” I quietly chant to myself. “You’re not here to get naked with her. You’re here to take care of her and help her get healthy. That’s it.”
I toss her clothes into the hamper, then roughly yank the sheets off the bed. “A clean body needs clean sheets. No dirty thoughts about clean sheets, you giant pervert.”
From the corner, Pascal watches me make the bed, and I can feel his doggy eyes judging me for lying through my teeth.