Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I go inside, head up the steps to the first level, and run right into them at the front door. “You’ve got everything,” my mother says to Luna and Parker as they hoist their bags onto their shoulders. “So we should be all set. And you can play with all the dogs tonight at my house.”
She looks up at me with a smile. “Oh, hi, sweetheart. How are you?”
“I’m fine, but what’s going on?”
Parker looks great, his eyes bright, his cheeks rosy. He flings himself at me. “Dad! I’m all better.”
“I heard,” I say, giving him a big hug. Then I do the same for Luna, but that still doesn’t answer the question of why they’re taking off right now.
“Sabrina texted me,” my mother begins. “She’s not feeling so great. So I came over to collect my babies, and I’ll get them to school tomorrow. I didn’t want Sabrina to worry about making sure they got to bed on time and having to make them breakfast, and she needs to rest herself,” my mom says, going into full mom mode and grandma mode too.
My muscles tighten and I’m antsy to check on Sabrina as soon as I can, but I give my kids a kiss and a hug, and we chat a moment before they leave.
The second the door is locked I march downstairs and knock on Sabrina’s door. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”
“Go for it,” she says weakly. The door’s not locked, so I open it, and my heart stops. She’s curled up under the blanket on the couch, her face pale, her blonde hair a wild mess and falling out of a half-made bun. She looks both beautiful and tragic, cocooned with a kitten in her arms.
“Hey, baby,” I say, and I close the distance, sitting right next to her.
She pushes a hand out from under the blanket, trying to stop me. “Don’t get too close,” she says, her voice cracking like Parker’s was yesterday. She tugs the blanket up higher over her mouth and coughs into it. When she stops a second or two later, she says, “Go. Save yourself while you still can.”
I smile. “I’m not scared,” I say. Then I touch her forehead. She’s burning up. “Sweetheart, did you take any Tylenol?”
She shakes her head. “Not one hundred two.”
“I bet it is.” I hunt around for the thermometer, but I don’t spot it on the coffee table or anywhere in her living room.
She points weakly toward the stairs. “It’s upstairs. Kitchen.”
And that’s that. I scoop her up, blanket, kitten and all, locking her door on the way out, and carry her toward the main living room, Drama meowing dramatically of course as I go.
“Tyler,” Sabrina says, but her protest is half-hearted. “You can’t carry me upstairs.”
“I can and I am,” I say.
“I’ll be fine,” she says, as I round the corner to the living room, heading straight for the couch.
“You’ll be fine because I’m going to take care of you,” I say, in a firm, clear voice.
Her shoulders curl inward. “But I’m gross.”
“You’re not gross.”
She coughs into her elbow as I set her down. “I’m gross.”
I laugh. “Hush, baby.”
I set her gently on the couch and Drama readjusts herself, giving me a slightly haughty look like she can’t believe I’ve dragged her two-and-a-half-pound cuteness upstairs. Sabrina clutches the tuxedo kitten a little more tightly. I head to the kitchen, find the thermometer on the counter there, then return and quickly scan her forehead.
I shake my head, tsking her. “You’re one hundred two. You’re getting some medicine.”
She pouts but nods. I give her Tylenol, pour some Gatorade, and hold the cup for her as she sits up and drinks from it. She doesn’t drink that much, so I say, “A little more.”
She takes another sip of the cherry-flavored drink, then hands it back to me.
But I give it back to her. “You need to get liquids inside you, baby,” I say.
She sighs then drinks some more.
“Now you need to rest,” I tell her. She settles into the couch, but I shake my head and once more I scoop her up along with the kitten, and I carry her up the stairs again.
“Tyler, why are you taking me up here?”
“Because you’re sick, and you need the emperor bed.”
She rests her head against my chest and that feels like exactly where she should be.
She falls asleep in my bed, tucked under her blanket and my cover, with Drama curling up on top of the pillow. I change out of my suit into basketball shorts and a hoodie and check on Sabrina constantly, making sure she’s comfortable and not burning up. She coughs faintly a few times but doesn’t wake. The lights are low and I’m sitting in a chair, reading on my tablet.
Her eyes flutter open around ten-thirty and she stares at me, a little confused. Then says, “Where am I?”