Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Dragging a hand through my hair, I turn away before I give Giovanni more reasons to gut me. My pulse is already hammering my hearing, but it turns deafening when I drink in the fear in Camille’s eyes. Her condition is far worse than it was last week. She looks seconds from collapsing.
I grab the doctor’s notes off the counter and flip through them. The medical jargon in neat handwriting pulls me back from the edge inch by inch. His diagnosis mimics the one he gave last week. He thinks Camille is suffering from food poisoning.
“What did she eat tonight?” I ask Valentina, my voice more subdued than it was moments ago. It couldn’t have been anything she ate before or during the recital, because we shared the food.
Valentina steps around Lucia, who’s standing between us like a bodyguard. “Nothing. I offered her dessert, but she was full from the treats she ate on the way home…” Her words trail off as shock registers on her face. “Who gave her the bouquet of sweets?”
My breathing tapers as anger squares my shoulders. “Her mother.”
With my fury close to boiling over again, Lucia places a gentle hand on Valentina’s arm. “Can you please grab us some extra towels?” She looks at me, her expression a mix of concern and fear. “We need to get her temperature down. The best way for us to do that is to place her under or in lukewarm water.”
When I nod stiffly, Lucia guides Valentina to the door. Valentina goes willingly. She’s not running in fear. Valentina can hold her ground as well as any of my brothers. Though I’m unsure if Lucia knows this. Unease fills her eyes when she hands Valentina a slip of paper seconds prior to departure. She looks like she wants to leave with her, but the groan of a child in pain places her needs on the back burner.
Camille needs her, and that’s enough to push aside her fear that I’m an unstable tyrant.
Together, we fuss over Camille until her heartbreaking whimpers fade and her erratic breathing evens out.
Once the panic in her eyes dissipates enough for her to listen, we convince her to take the medicine.
“It’ll taste a little funny, but it’ll make you well enough to eat all the Nutella crepes you want tomorrow morning.”
When Camille’s bloodshot eyes shift to me, wanting to authenticate Lucia’s offer, I dip my chin. She can eat Nutella crepes until her stomach bursts if she’ll take the medicine that will make her well enough to consider clambering downstairs for breakfast.
I’ll even order them as a midnight snack for her.
With a too-trusting glance, she opens her mouth and swallows the medicine.
“Good girl, Camille. You’re so brave.” After wiping away a smear of sticky liquid that popped out, Lucia flattens the back of her hand on Camille’s forehead. She turns to me, her voice soft but urgent. “Bring her to the bathroom. We need to get her temperature down before it affects her cognitive functions.” My fever is just as violent, but Lucia brings it down with two sentences that prove she can read my thoughts. “This type of fever isn’t from eating non-child-approved sweets. You usually go clammy and hypothermic when you consume too many chocolate liqueurs.”
Monday morning felt far too long to wait until she spoke.
My heart stutters when I scoop Camille into my arms. The heat radiating off her scorches my arms and chest. She’s an inferno. I don’t think her body can take much more.
I hold her close, my hands cradling her head and legs, as I follow Lucia into the bathroom.
“You’re okay, sweetheart. Daddy’s here,” I murmur when she struggles to keep her eyes open. She’s so hot that I monitor every shudder rolling through her body, confident convulsions aren’t far off.
Lucia moves ahead of us and turns on the shower. Her hands don’t shake, but I don’t need to see her tremors to know they’re as strong as Camille’s. She tests the water with her wrist before adjusting the faucet. She waits until the temperature is perfect to lower Camille’s fever without shocking her system.
She nods once, a silent signal that everything is good to go, and I step forward. “She’s so hot.”
“She is.” Fear darkens Lucia’s unexpected green eyes when she brings them to mine, but that isn’t all I see. There’s determination, too. She won’t leave my side until Camille is safe.
Her unvoiced promise takes care of my panic more than anything else could.
I enter the shower fully clothed, uncaring about anything except the child in my arms. The water hits my back first, then my shoulders, before it gradually flows over Camille’s legs.
She whimpers a small, broken sound that cuts through me, but the rainbow you can’t have without a storm bursts through the dark clouds when she finalizes her reply with a faint whisper. “Daddy…”