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Foster stops scrolling through the movie channel menu and fixes his focus on me. “Because of what I did?”
“You did nothing. I know what this is between us. It just takes some getting used to.”
“Trust me, being Mrs. Foster Black won’t be as hard as you think.”
“Mrs. Paige Black,” I respond rhetorically.
“Excuse me, Paige Black. I didn’t mean to take away your identity.”
I sigh, asking, “Can we just watch a movie?”
He nods and continues to scroll through the channels before choosing a popular movie about a bank heist. Fifteen minutes later, I am drifting off. The next thing I know, my lids flutter open to see green eyes staring at my face. I am in Foster’s arms as he carries me to my bedroom.
“Where are you taking me?” I mumble.
“Your bed. You fell asleep over an hour ago.”
“I’m not tired.”
“I beg to differ.” Foster lays me in my bed and plants a lingering kiss on my forehead. “It was a pleasure, Mrs. Black.”
I say nothing as I turn onto my side, and he pulls the covers over me. I promptly fall back to sleep, waking only to a barking noise coming from down the hall. It scares me until I realize it is coughing. Shoving the covers off me, I pad down to Foster’s room. The door is slightly ajar, so I push it open to see Foster in bed, hacking away.
“You’re sick?” I ask from the doorway.
“I’ll be fi–” he starts as another fit of coughing breaks off his sentence. His face is red, and I worry he had a fever. Throwing caution to the wind, I go to him, placing my hand on his forehead. Foster swats it away but is not fast enough. He is burning up.
“You have a fever. You were fine when you put me to bed.”
“I’ve been feeling a little worn down,” he rasps. “I have three meetings tomorrow.”
“Which you’re not going to. Reschedule them. I’ll call Mark and tell him.”
“You don’t understand,” he protests as another fit of coughing takes his breath away.
“I fully understand. I’m staying home to care for you.”
“It’s not necessary.”
I grind my teeth. “Foster, stop telling me what isn’t necessary. You need to stay in bed.” I reach over him to take his silver laptop, but his hand shoots out to stop me, and he grips my wrist a little too hard. I yelp, and he lets go.
“I’m sorry, but I need that,” he insists.
“What you need is rest, and as your wife, I demand you take it easy.”
He grumbles but lets me remove the laptop this time, which I placed on his dresser. “Get under the covers.”
“Paige,” he cautions.
My eyebrows knit together, and I point my finger. “Now.”
After another grumble, he complies, slipping under the white sheet and thick black duvet.
“I’ll be right back with some water. You need to drink fluids.”
Foster coughs again, asking between coughs. “Can I have some ice in it?”
“Yes, you can.”
