Amber’s already pale face blanched at the word soup, and she lifted a hand weakly to wave goodbye. Theo gently pushed her hair back from her eyes. “Go away. Let me die in peace.”
Theo ignored that. “Why are you on the floor? Are you hurt?" He quickly inspected her for blood or obvious injuries and sighed in relief when he found none.
“So hot,” she said. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her lashes forming dark fans against her too pale face.
“Okay. Up you go.” Theo brought a hand under her back and one hand under her knees, lifted her into his arms, and set her gently on the bed. It was a twin from the looks of it, and he sat down gingerly on the side to avoid breaking it with his weight. Amber curled her knees up and started shaking.
"Have you had any medicine?" he asked.
“Just wanna sleep,” she said.
Absently, he noticed that her green sleep shorts and tank top had tiny frogs on them, and her hair was a wild mass piled on top of her head. She looked younger, softer, in her frog jammies without her usual short skirts and tight tops and for a second, his chest felt strangely tight at seeing this side of her.
Amber was so rarely anything other than brash and full of life. She opened her eyes, and lucidity was there for a second. "Don't look at me," she mumbled.
"Don't be ridiculous.” He tucked her fuchsia and orangequilt up around her bare shoulders. “Stay right there. I'll be back.” Amber nodded and closed her eyes again.
In the kitchen, Theo opened the fridge for water. Aside from a few sad-looking, half-empty condiments and takeout boxes, there was nothing there. Her cupboards had an assortment of Pop-Tarts, Twinkies, and chocolate that had him shaking his head.
He poured a glass of water from the sink, scrounged around the cabinets to look for a fever reducer and, finding none, went back to the bedroom. She was shivering now, back in the fetal position. Her chattering teeth echoed in the small room.
He pulled the blanket up where she had come untucked. "Here, drink some of this. How long have you been sick?"
“I’m cold,” she said, closing her eyes.
Theo took his jacket off, rolled up his sleeves, and piled another blanket on her. Then he went looking for a washcloth in the bathroom. He found a truly scary number of lotions, soaps, and unidentifiable makeup stuff on the counters, along with a stack of washcloths in a basket.
Once, when Ford’s son Landon was in kindergarten, he caught the stomach flu. It was right after Ford’s wife left them, and Ford was in the middle of an important trial, so there was no one to take care of the kid. Georgie was going through chemo treatment and couldn't be around anyone that was sick, so it was Theo who took care of Landon. It was trial by fire, but they had made it though, and he felt reasonably sure he could handle this.
Theo grabbed a washcloth, wet it and wrung it out, and brought it back into Amber's room. When he laid the washcloth on Amber’s forehead, her eyes opened. "Go away, you’ll get sick," she said, but it was almost unintelligible with her teeth chattering.
“Hush. I’m taking care of you." Theo checked her forehead again. It was burning hot to the touch.
“You always do,” he thought he heard her murmur, and he paused, remembering another night many years ago. But then her face scrunched up, and she looked ready to cry. “What’s wrong?” he asked, smoothing her hair back from her pale face.
“Am I wearing my frog pajamas?” she asked. She looked so pitiful he tried hard not to laugh.
“Yes, I believe so,” he said solemnly.
“I don’t want you to see me like this,” she whispered and promptly closed her eyes.
"Don't be ridiculous. You’re beautiful,” he said as he dialed Ford’s number. “Ford, I’m at Amber’s. She’s sick. Can you bring me some things?” He listed off the things that had helped make Landon more comfortable, added a grocery order and a change of clothes, and got off the phone.
Amber was sleeping now, but her body still shook uncontrollably. The bed shook with her. Despite her chills, the room was almost unbearably hot. He checked the window AC unit—broken—and swore softly.
He sat back down and glanced around the room curiously. Her bedroom was tiny compared to his, with mismatched furniture and a lamp draped in a red scarf in the corner that gave the room an amber glow. Her entire apartment would fit into his living room.
There was a bookcase stacked with well-loved romance novels. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. So his prickly assistant was a romantic at heart.
Her nightstand held various pots and jars of what he assumed were lotion, and a photo of Amber and her sisters and her mom in dresses. They were all beautiful, all grinning at the camera, bold and confident, with their arms wrapped around each other.One sister, Allie, he thought, held a bouquet. On Amber’s nightstand was a paperback book lying face down with a half-naked brooding man holding a woman on the cover. Theo smiled.
Amber shivered again, and Theo did a quick search in her closet, but there were no more blankets. He hesitated only a second, knowing this would blur the lines even further between them, before taking off his tie and dress shoes and getting into bed with her.
He gathered her shaking body into his, wrapped his arms around her securely, and settled in for a long night.
Chapter Fifteen
When Amber wokeup the next morning, she didn’t know where she was. She opened her eyes in stages, cautiously checking to see if the stabbing pain from the last twenty-four hours would appear again, but all she felt was groggy and so hollow her stomach protested.
