AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I already heated it up.”
Ian moves to sit on the bed, holding out an insulated mug with a straw. I take a sip of my homemade chicken broth, warmed to the perfect temperature.
I take a few more sips of broth, then comment, “You’ll be sorry later when you don’t get chicken and dumplings next week.”
“I’ll live.”
Even the minor effort of sitting up in bed tires me out way more quickly than it should. After a few moments, I feel myself drifting back to sleep. I curl over onto my side, facing his chair. The last thing I think is that I am the one who is supposed to be taking care of him, not the other way around.
Chapter Eleven
Ian
Obviously, texting Martin for advice was a bad idea. When another day passes and Savannah still isn’t feeling better, I’m out of ideas. Unfortunately, the internet isn’t much more help. After thirty minutes of research online, I have to talk myself out of driving her into town to one of those clinics that does a full body scan. Surely, if Dr. Berry thought this was a cancer, he would have suggested something other than Tylenol, fluids, and rest.
I’m almost tempted to call my mom and ask her for advice. Unfortunately, she’s in Spain right now and it’s the middle of the night. If she’s awake at three in the morning, I don’t want to know what she’s doing.
In lieu of doing something that might actually be helpful, I simply sit by her bedside in a chair I dragged up from my office. At some point, I get up to take a phone call from my assistant. When I return, Mr. Sniggles is sitting in the chair I vacated.
“I was sitting there.”
His only response is a dismissive slow blink.
So I go back to my office for a second chair.
He and I sit there at her bedside in silence for long enough that I lose track of time.
I’m nearly asleep sitting up when she coughs and rolls over.
Mr. Sniggles sits up, suddenly alert and glares at me.
“I know it sounds bad. But you heard the doctor. It’s just a virus. And according to Harvard Health, most colds have a lingering cough.”
Mr. Sniggles does not look impressed.
“Do you have any other suggestions?”
He gives me another slow blink.
“Yeah. I didn’t think so. You are about as helpful as Martin was.”
Though, at least Mr. Sniggles can’t voice any opinions about Ava.
I don’t need Martin to tell me that is a shit show. Just like I don’t need Martin to warn me about getting too attached to Savannah. Martin should know better than anyone that attachment isn’t really my thing.
At least, it never has been before now.
Chapter Twelve
Savannah
The next couple of days pass in a blur.
Every time I wake, Ian is either by my side or close enough that I can hear him talking. He plies me with a steady stream of warm broth, hot tea and whatever medications the doctor left for me. There’s Tylenol for the pain and cough medicine that helps me sleep. Thank God, I am strong enough to stand and make it to the bathroom, because I don’t think I could’ve handled the humiliation of having him help me do that.
Sometimes when I wake up, I hear him talking on the phone in the hall just outside the bedroom, his deep voice a comforting rumble as he talks about finances and proposals, throwing around scientific terms I don’t understand. Other times, I wake to find him reading in the chair by my side. Inevitably, he sets aside his work, and turns on the TV to watch an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine with me. I’m too tired to stay awake for long and there’s something oddly comforting about falling asleep to the sound of his gentle laughter.
When I wake up on the morning of what I think is the third day, I feel almost human. My fever broke in the night and when I swallow it no longer feels like I’ve been gargling battery acid.
