My shoulders sag at his distress. “I’m not. I promise.”
His voice is tight. “I panic about returning to the hospital. The month I nearly died feeds my nightmares. When I was discharged, everyone wanted me to be the person I was before, whereas I was terrified by their germs. I had to get away from them. So I did.”
I run my finger down my can, condensation collecting against the pad as I stumble over my response. “Can I say something that might be unhelpful?”
“I guess.”
“When Tabi, my daughter, was born, I was always anxious I’d do something wrong. I cried quietly after she wouldn’t feed in the night. I was so alone, and that was the worst part. I didn’t want to wake my housemate, although Tabi’s screams did anyway. I won’t let you be alone. The next time you feel like this, call me. I don’t care how late it is. If I can’t answer, I won’t, but I’ll trawl the internet for your symptoms and give you a measured summary. You’re seeing horror stories rather than the likely issue.”
“No. You need to have your life. After one day, you’re breaking your rules for me.” I’d break more. This guy has a pull on me, and he doesn’t even know. I want to believe that it’s just about being there for him and helping him, but I can’t deny my attraction.
He gulps like he’s drinking something, and I resist the image of him wiping moisture off his lips. I wonder what he wears to bed and if his hair is shaggy as he pulls his hands through it.
“Rosie, you must keep your boundaries. Since you told meabout Tabi, I understand even more now why they’re important. I’m not getting in the way of you and her.”
“That’s my decision. I won’t always answer, especially when I’m with her, but I hate that you’re making yourself more anxious. Did you get any sleep?”
“No,” he grunts, “which has made the headache worse, unless it’s an illness.”
The fear in his voice pulls at my heart. “Have you got any symptoms other than the headache?”
“No.”
I remember the things we were taught about meningitis in my antenatal classes. “No achy neck or vomiting or?—”
“No,” he grumbles, revealing the grumpiness he’s trying to hide from me. “Nothing else.”
“Then go to bed.”
“Yes, boss,” he replies with a yawn.
“Shouldn’t I be calling you that, seeing as you won’t let me call you sir?”
His chuckle is adorable. “I give you permission to call me boss or sir whenever you like.” I imagine calling him sir in his office when I’ve done well. Shit. I don’t just have a praise kink. I love the boss dynamic that goes with it.
I cringe at my lack of professionalism. “In terms of work, I’ve lots to do. Your hotel for this Friday in Australia was already booked before I started,” I confirm.
“Yes, but the hotel staff must deep clean my room before my stay. I’ll pay whatever it takes. My private jet needs cleaning before and after, too.” Shame laces through his tone.
“Do you need staff to wear masks?”
He sighs. “Thank you for thinking of that and for not making me feel like a control freak.”
“You’re not. You have health anxiety for understandable reasons and need to control the things around you. Are there any other instructions or things I need to know?”
“I don’t want anyone serving me in the hotel to have been ill in the last two weeks. I’ll eat all my meals in my room.”
“I’ll buy pocket wet wipes for you so you always have them with you.”
“Thank you for understanding. My counsellor said it’s fine if you call, but it wasn’t necessary, as I can relay everything. The offer to call him is open-ended.”
I brush my fingers across the chain around my neck. I must return his ring and his chain. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked for them yet. “I’ll leave it for now.”
“I hope to be in the office tomorrow before prepping for Australia. Everyone else should be leaving today for the first race of the season, which is impacting me. Hence my absence today. I’ll try to be helpful and not get angsty, but this is my heads up.” He yawns again.
“Get to bed.”
“I’m already there, but I’m worried I won’t sleep.”
