Me: Please tell me this flu doesn’t last more than a day or two.
She repliesin seconds.
Clara: Is that why I haven’t heard from you? I was hoping after your family date you’d been locked away in a sex dungeon with that fine-as-eff man, but since you didn’t ask me to watch Jax, I assumed you were blowing me off.
I sometimes do blow off my sister’s texts, if I’m honest. I love her to pieces, but I see her Tuesday through Saturday at the salon. If she blows up my phone Sunday or Monday, it’s usually to bitch about Mom. I stopped trying to change our mother years ago. Clara, the youngest and the more stubborn of the two of us, has not.
Me: Well, you’re not completely wrong. I’ve been at his place with Jax, but not for the reasons you think.
I include a sick emoji and hit send. I feel like every inch of my body has been soaked in sweat, then dried, and soaked again. Utterly disgusting.
I head into the bathroom and grab a towel from the small closet next to the shower. I’m shocked to find my makeup bag and a plastic bag filled with toiletries that someone must have brought from my house.
I can’t believe how out of it I’ve been. And he’s just stepped in and thought of everything. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t responsible for everyone and everything. As sick as I’ve been, I swear just having time to sleep has got me feeling better already.
I turn on the water and check the notification from my sister, then strip down while the water heats up.Just having those sweaty clothes off my body feels so much better. I’m going to have to strip Phantom’s bed and disinfect everything in his room.
Clara: So, tell me you’re going to fuck him once you’re better, Pop?
When I don’t respond right away, three more texts come in rapid succession.
Clara: Tell me you already did and then you got sick.
Clara: Tell me something.
Clara: Details!!
I hesitate before texting back.
Me: No, I have not and…it’s complicated.
And… That’s the problem. God knows I want him. He’s beautiful and thoughtful. But I hardly know him. We’ve both got kids to care for, and he’s got Shayla to deal with it. It’s all so darned complicated.
Clara: What’s complicated? Make it simple, sis, and hit that. Come on!
I ignore her text and check the water. It’s perfect. I don’t have my expensive salon shampoo, but there is some drugstore product that Phantom must have bought to replace the stuff that was ruined in the break-in.
That man has thought of absolutely everything.Based on the label and the berry scent, it’s the same stuff he buys the girls. Something about that fills my heart to almost bursting. I shove the feelings away and focus on what I started texting Clara about in the first place.
Me: Can you cover the salon tomorrow? I’ll call my clients tonight and reschedule as many as I can, but I need to get home and sort some things out and be sure I’m over this before I come back to work.
Clara: You fuck him, I’ll cover you.
A text like that doesn’t deserve a reply. Even if it’s a deal I’d gladly agree to.
The water feels absolutely glorious—hot and clean. Just what I need. I scrub myself every place possible—twice—and wish I had a razor so I could shave my legs. I didn’t think to check the bag, but when I bend over to touch my stubble, I feel a little light-headed… So maybe the shaving can wait. Once my hair is clean and I feel almost like me again, I wrap myself in a towel, blot my hair dry, and climb out of the shower.
I pad into Phantom’s room and look around to see if I have anything to wear when the door swings open.
“Poppy? You up? I?—”
Phantom takes one look at me, my hands clutching one of his towels over my chest.
“I, uh…” he says.
We both freeze and laugh. I point back toward the bathroom. “I found my toiletries. Thank you.”
He’s staring at me like a lion sizing up a tasty-looking gazelle.
