“Hey, I’m at the cottage with Jess and she’s pretty sick,” he explained. “I don’t think she should be left alone. Do you need me today?”
“Oh no! Poor Jess,” Laney gushed down the phone. “Is it a bug?”
“Jess thinks it might be food poisoning. Did anyone else eat the shrimp and get sick?”
“I don’t think so? But you stay right there. You only have one scene today and we can shuffle. All good.”
All good. Nate wasn’t sure about that. Being around Jess didn’t leave him feeling good at all. Confused. Frustrated. Sad. But he also wouldn’t leave her to fend for herself when she was still so unwell.
“Okay. Thanks, Laney. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Tell her ‘get better’ and give her hugs for me, yeah?”
“Yes, of course,” Nate said, knowing for sure hugs with Jess would not be in his near future.
JESS ROLLED OVER AND TOOK IN HER SURROUNDINGS, orientating herself. She was in the cottage bedroom, the painting of pink roses on the wall, her clothes spilling out of her suitcase in the corner. How long had she been in this bed? Memories of the past 24 hours rolled, dreamlike, through her mind. Arriving home in a taxi after her night out at the Five Stags, heading to bed with an upset stomach and waking the next morning sicker than she’d ever felt. A day alone, hugging the toilet and finally managing to make it to the bedroom.
Then Nate. Sitting by her side and encouraging her to drink. Placing cold cloths on her forehead and arms, gently cooling her feverish skin. Stroking her hair.
She sat up and heard the jug boil in the kitchen. He was still here then.
Lifting back the bedcovers, she placed her feet on the floor and, still feeling shaky, carefully made her way to the lounge, not bothering to get dressed out of her pyjamas or fix her hair, whichshe assumed by now was a tangled mess. She figured Nate had already seen her at her worst. No need to fuss over appearances.
Nate glanced up from the newspaper he was reading as she walked in.
“You’re up,” he said, brightly, clearly relieved.
“I am. Not feeling great, but it seems like the worst is over. I thought I’d risk a coffee and see if it stays down.”
“You still look a bit shaky. Let me.” He stood, offering her a seat at the table, and found a mug in the kitchen cupboard.
Jess sat, grateful and a little embarrassed. When was the last time someone had looked after her like this? Her grandfather came to mind. When she was small, he was always the one who came and cared for her when she was sick. Her mother wasn’t the nurturing type. Too busy chasing after whatever useless man was in her life to look after Jess. Her grandfather had been the one doing what Nate had done overnight. Checking in on her. Rubbing her back when she was sick. Offering quiet, solid support and care.
He handed her a mug of sweet, milky coffee. “Two sugars, right?”
“Today, definitely,” Jess said, touched that he remembered how she liked it. She breathed in the rich sugary smell and had a sudden craving for a large chocolate croissant to go with it. Although, her stomach probably wasn’t ready for solid food, let alone something rich and chocolatey.
“See if you can keep down fluids, and then you could try a piece of toast,” Nate said, as if reading her mind.
“Yes, a dry piece of toast was exactly what I was dreaming about just now.”
“Toast first and if you keep that down, maybe toast with jam.”
“Thanks, Doctor Mitchell.” Jess smiled over her coffee at him. “For the coffee and for looking after me.” She didn’t want to like this guy, but he was undeniably impressive. She remembered how their last encounter before she got sick ended, with her running away, and lowered her mug. “And about the other night. I—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Nate said, cutting her off with a cold tone in his voice. “I know about…Dave. And I’ll head off shortly, seeing as you’re feeling better.”
Jess tipped her head in confusion. What did Dave have to do with anything? “I don’t know what you mean?”
Nate’s expression darkened as he lowered his eyes to the table.
“I read your texts. I thought it was my phone. You left it on the couch, but it was your boyfriend messaging.”
“Dave is not my boyfriend.”
“Partner, husband. It’s not my business. I don’t know what your plan was, but—”
Jess sat up straight. Her plan? “Wait a second. You think I’m cheating on Dave with you?”
