Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
It felt like hours, but it was only minutes before he was back, a small glass of water in his hands. “Swish and spit,” he ordered.
I did it.
He flushed. “Think you’re ready to move to the bed?”
“Why sir, how highly inappropriate of you to seduce me at such a time.” I cracked a smile and pushed myself into a sitting position.
“Smartass,” he muttered, bending toward me.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he scooped me into his arms and stood.
“Taking you to bed, obviously.” He turned sideways to get us through the door, then walked down the small hallway to my bedroom.
“Not the way I imagined it.” My head fell against his shoulder.
“Oh, then I guess you’ve imagined it?” He turned sideways again, sliding through my doorway. I tried to see my bedroom through his eyes, the durable bedframe and sensible dresser the house had come with and the dark blue curtains I’d splurged on our first summer in the space. Was it too cluttered for him? Too generic? It certainly didn’t say that I’d been living here for five years. He laid me down on the bed and pulled the covers up to my waist.
“See?” I said, curling on my side as another wave of nausea hit. “There are benefits to not making your bed. Mainly, it’s always ready for you to be tucked in during the most embarrassing moment of your life.”
He stroked my hair, the mattress dipping as he sat beside me. “Nothing to be embarrassed over. I brought up the stock pot too. Just in case you can’t make it to the bathroom. And if you give me a minute, I’ll grab some saltines and electrolytes.”
My eyes burned, and suddenly I was blinking back tears.
“Hey.” He took my hand in his and kept stroking my hair with the other. “It’s okay.”
But was it? No one had taken care of me in over a decade, and no one had ever been this nice while I was sick. This was horrible to feel so weak and yet amazing to be cared for. My eyelids felt like they weighed four hundred pounds, but I managed to force them open so I could see him.
He moved, sliding off the bed and kneeling next to me so our faces were at the same level. “Give me a few minutes. Just let me take care of you.”
I nodded, and he disappeared again.
Exhaustion yanked me into sleep.
When I woke, an hour had passed according to my alarm clock. I heard paper rustle and turned over. Weston was next to me, his back against my headboard, his legs stretched out as he read a book.
“Look who’s aw—”
My stomach spasmed again and I lurched away from him.
He was at my side before I could fall from the bed. “Bathroom or pot?”
“Bathroom!” There was no way I was puking into a freaking kitchen pot in front of him. Even sickness had its limits.
He scooped me up again, carrying me down the hall. Then he carried me back again once I was done. The man was going straight to heaven.
“Hopefully it lets up soon,” he said as he wiped my face with a fresh washcloth.
“Sutton should be home in an hour,” I whispered, my eyes already closing again. “What are you doing home, anyway?”
“The weather’s shit. We can’t fly when it’s dumping like this,” he said, moving the washcloth to my neck. “And I figured I’d come home and see if there was anything you needed before tonight.”
“The party,” I groaned, leaning into the washcloth as it stroked over my cheek. “I’ll be okay. I just need a few hours of sleep.”
“Rest. We’ll figure it out,” he promised, but his voice was already fading out as I dozed off.
“It looks amazing!” Sutton’s voice pulled me from sleep.
“Give me a second,” Weston murmured, sliding off the bed.
I heard vague chatter, and then footsteps racing up the stairs.
“Mom!” Sutton appeared in the doorway, her eyes huge and worried. “Are you okay?”
“Just something I ate,” I managed to say. “I’m so sorry, sugar. I know it’s your birthday. I just need another hour to sleep it off, okay?”
“I’ll call the girls and cancel the party,” she promised. “It’s no big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal,” I replied. “Just give me another hour.”
“What time is everyone showing up?” I heard Weston ask as my eyes fluttered closed.
“An hour,” Sutton replied in a whisper. “But I can call everyone.”
I couldn’t keep conscious and faded out again.
When I managed to open my eyes again, it was five fifteen. I lurched to a sitting position, and my head swam.
“I’m never eating sausage again,” I muttered, pawing at my nightstand for my phone.
“You’re awake,” Weston said from the doorway, his usual perfection leaning toward the frazzled end of the spectrum.
Then it hit me, the sound of raucous girls downstairs. “Oh no.” I tried to move again, but my limbs didn’t agree.