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When I return to his bedroom, he was sucking down the cherry cough medicine from the dosage cup.
“Oh God, this stuff is awful,” he complains.
“Drink this.” I hand him the glass, and he gulps it like he hasn’t had a drink for two days, holding the empty tumbler out to me after he finishes.
“More?” I ask.
“Please.”
I am almost out when Foster calls after me, “Thank you, Paige.”
I smile as I refill the glass. While sick, Foster is vulnerable—something I haven’t seen in the entire time I’ve known him. It was refreshing to know he was human. Although he declines food and goes back to sleep, he sounds a bit better with the aid of the medication.
That night, I make sure to sleep with both our bedroom doors open. I also set my phone alarm for every few hours so I can check on him. During the early morning, he wakes me up as he walks down the hall. I pop out of bed, pulling on my dark blue terry robe as I exit my room. I find Foster in the kitchen, fully dressed in a pair of black suit pants, a white dress shirt, and red tie. There are large dark bags under his eyes, and his skin is pale.
“You’re going to work?”
“I have meetings.”
“I thought you would take the day off.”
He grinds his teeth together, gritting out, “This is business. I can’t afford to be sick. Are you coming with me?”
“It’s only seven. I don’t get in until nine.”
He gulps his coffee. “Then I’ll go without you. I have a meeting at nine. If you want to join me in the conference room, come earlier. We could go over a few notes.”
Foster goes silent as he brushes past me, still hacking away. I am more than annoyed, but it was his choice. When he comes back, he is slipping on his black suit jacket. Next, he pulls on a beige raincoat he retrieves from the foyer closet. There is a chill in the air, and rain is in the forecast. I let him go as I prepare a cup of coffee for myself. I won’t be rushed because my husband wants to get to the office early.
I arrive at work just before eight-thirty. Mark rushes into my office as I am removing my black raincoat.
“Mrs. Black, thank God you’re here!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Black is unwell.”
I curse under my breath. “Where is he?”
“His office. He fainted.”
“Fuck.” I hurry to Foster’s office and spot him lying on his couch, his arm thrown over his eyes.
“Mark, give us a minute.”
Mark nods and backs out of the room while closing the door. Foster removes his arm from his face, and I notice how bloodshot his eyes are. He looks worse than when he left the penthouse this morning.
“Don’t say it,” he groans.
I perch on the edge of the couch, smoothing my black skirt before I touch his head. He doesn’t protest when I hold my palm to his skin.
“You’re burning up. It doesn’t surprise me you fainted. You should go home.”
“I have a meeting in less than a half-hour.”
“Tough shit. You’re Foster Black, and you have a right to cancel a meeting.”
He laughs before it turns into a hacking cough. Foster grips his chest and groans. “It fucking hurts.”
