“None of the above?”
“Huh. We’ll see. No promises.” She slips an arm around my waist as I count the days I’ve been bedridden.
“Sam, how long have I been sick?”
“A couple weeks, why?” Arriving at the bathroom door, she lets go and I grit my teeth, willing my leg muscles to do their damn job.
“Fuck.” My jaw ticks and her brows furrow. She probably thinks I’m pissed at her but I’m not. I’m angry at the whole situation.
Her soft palm reaches to my cheek. “You’re lucky you didn’t need the hospital. People are dying by the hundreds and there aren’t enough ICU beds. Thank God for Slate. He dropped by with this.”
She picks a thumb-sized device off the countertop and clamps it on my index finger. “It tells me how well your lungs are working. By the way, Lilac has been amazing. When all this is over, we need to do something nice for her. I swear she saved your life.”
“How is our favorite doc?” Leaning against the wall, I open my legs, bring my wife close, and kiss her until neither of us can breathe.
Gorgeous brown eyes filled with liquid stare. “She freaked out because they ran out of masks. Slate told Grayson and the billionaire flew in thousands from China. So far, knock on wood, she’s not caught the virus but the last time we spoke, she sounded exhausted.”
Feeling like Rip Van Winkle, I kiss the top of her head. “Be right back.”
In the bathroom, I do a double take at my gaunt reflection in the mirror, scratch my beard, and thread my hands through my longish hair. Then, I step on the scales and can’t believe I’m ten pounds down.
Holy shit. What the hell happened?
Finished with my shower, I dry off, and shaking, make my way to the kitchen table where a plate waits for me. I’m full after a few bites but force myself to finish every crumb. What if I never fully recover? Who in their right mind would hire me like this?
Feeling like a damn fool, I roll my chair next to hers, grab her by the waist, and lift her onto my lap. “Thank you. Not just for breakfast… but for everything.”
Mouth full, she threatens my chest with her deadly fork. “Don’t you ever get sick again, you hear?”
I nibble her ear, then warm it with my breath. “Yes ma’am.”
She swivels, places her hands behind my head, and kisses me until my delighted cock swells.
Thinking what I’m thinking, she stands, takes my hand and pulls me to my feet.
Fuck.Without warning, my knees give out, my ass hits the cushion, and sweat rolls down the sides of my face.
Trying once again, Sam wraps a steady arm around me, and bites her lower lip. “It might take a few more weeks before you feel one hundred percent.”
A too-familiar fear nips at my heels but I don’t allow it to take hold. I’m a different man than the one who got blown up in Afghanistan. Those were dark days and no way in hell am I going there again. This time, I got Sam.
“I need to hit the gym.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, they’re all closed.” She helps me back to my futon, my personal prison cell.
“No worries. I’ll call around and find a treadmill… and some weights, too.” Head aching and too warm, I lie back on the pillow.
In case she notices the fever, I hide the thermometer.
Lips pursed, Sam makes a big deal of turning around in a circle, studying our miniscule living space. “Well, I guess we could live without the futon or maybe we could lose the kitchen table.”
I pat the mattress next to me. “I was thinking I could put a teeny, tiny, gym in the reception area.”
Her brows crinkle the way they do when she disagrees but doesn’t want to argue. “Ah…”
“Sweetheart, it’s not like we have customers walking up the stairs. I promise I’ll send everything back as soon as things return to normal. You can use it, too.” Eyelids heavy, I let them close and don’t remember much until morning.
I wake when the sun peaks over the apartment buildings and my painful wood complains.We were supposed to make love and you fell asleep. What the fuck, dude?”
