His comment generated a faint smile, and I slipped into a semi-dozing state, murmuring disconnected nonsense. When I regained full consciousness, Theo’s body was moving against mine with soft laughter.
“What?” I asked, wishing I could see his face. “What did I say?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He kissed my forehead and laughed some more, and it hit me how much I loved the sound.
The second detail that registered was the press of his bare lips, with no surgical layer between his mouth and my skin.
“Did you take off your mask?” I asked, struggling to focus.
“I did,” he said. “You showed symptoms in less than an hour. If you’d passed it onto me, I’d be in the same condition as you are by now.”
My heart raced at the thought of Theo gambling with his life like that. The rules were changing so fast, we couldn’t be sure of anything. “You shouldn’t have done that,” I said, my words slurring. “I’m so sorry. I was really starting to like you.”
“You just mentioned something like that, but in blunter terms,” he said. “I’m not sick, though—and you’re not dying—so you can stop with the goodbye talk.”
Another coughing fit took over, the impact brutal on my throat. If he could have experienced it from my perspective, he might have a different opinion. My body didn’t feel right. Bones and muscles aching, and there was a strange sensation at the back of my nose. Every time I swallowed, I had to brace myself for pain, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open for longer than a few seconds.
“You won’t miss me too much,” I whispered. Nobody could feel this terrible and emerge from the sickness still breathing.
“It’s all right,” he said, stroking the hair back from my face. “You’re too out of it to know how wrong you are.”
I couldn’t focus on his words. Fatigue washed over me again, but rather than fighting it, I surrendered and hoped it would heal me.
My eyelids fluttered open, and I blinked a few times to orient myself.
Am I alive… or dead?
I rubbed my eyes and turned my head on the pillow. The blinds over the window were lowered, and the daylight peeking around the sides gave little away. It could have been morning or afternoon, a day or a week later, for all I knew.
I attempted a deep breath, and my lungs filled a little easier. Not much, but still. It didn’t feel like someone was sitting on my chest anymore. When I swallowed, the pain in my throat had faded a fraction, no longer making my eyes water.
Curious, I touched my cheeks, and my hands went still. Surely not. My skin had cooled, and my pulse wasn’t throbbing just beneath the surface.
I closed my eyes as a shuddering sigh left me. Definitely alive. If I’d made it through the fever, I must have passed the peak.
I’d get to see Ava again. Theo.
A dry sobbing sound heaved from me—but it was too soon to celebrate.
Theo’s side of the bed was empty.
What if he was somewhere in his apartment right now taking his last breaths?
I struggled into a sitting position, elbows shaking, fingers digging into the navy quilt, then looked down and discovered I wasn’t wearing the t-shirt and leggings I’d been in when the fever hit. Instead, I wore loose flannel pyjamas—mypyjamas—with no memory of changing out of my clothes.
Bracing myself, I pulled out the neckline of my top, and my shoulders slumped with relief. Same bra.
How long had I been here?
Medication, tissues, and a half-full water jug were strewn across the bedside table closest to me, and a rumpled blanket had been draped over the grey armchair in the corner as if Theo had spent part of the night there.
“Where are you?” I whispered, my voice husky from lack of use.
I couldn’t hear the low drone of the television coming from the living area. There were no cooking smells. No footsteps or clattering plates.
With a rush of determination, I flung back the covers and tried swinging my legs over the side of the bed, but after two failed attempts, I cursed and flopped back against the pillow, chest heaving.
So much for breathing easier now. I might as well have run a sprint.
