“Comfortable?” he asks, reclining on his own pillow with a sparkling water in his hand.
“Completely.” A smile tugs at my lips, my answer meaning so much more than he knows. I’m absolutely at ease here with all three of them. “Do you want a plate?”
“No, thanks. I’m just going to drink some water for now.” He winces and rubs his fingers across his forehead. “My head’s hurting, but I’m probably just dehydrated.”
We settle next to each other and the movie plays on, but I will have no recollection of it.Moanacould turn intoGladiator, and I wouldn’t know because I’m utterly distracted by the man beside me.
My weight against the pillow is making me slide toward Finn a millimeter at a time until it feels like I’m leaning on him, and if I tilted my head a few inches, I think it might be resting on his chest.
Finn hasn’t moved at all. He’s a firm stone wall beside me, heat bouncing off him in waves. It’s a welcome warmth on this cool evening, and I could stay here forever, pressed against him like this.
Beds? I don’t need them. Finn’s body is much more comfortable.
We’re reaching the end of the movie when I realize his steady breaths have turned into quiet snores. Every time he exhales, a small puff of air moves the hair on my forehead, and my shoulder settles into him more firmly.
A loud scene from the movie cracks through the air, and he twitches. His snoring stops, and he breathes, “Millie?” against my face.
“Yes, sleepyhead?” I turn to look up at him.
“Do you have any pain reliever in your purse? For a migraine,” he says, his voice pinched with discomfort.
“Oh, yes.” I fumble as I sit up and clumsily reach for my bag. Finn rises with a groan, dropping his face into his hands.
I shove aside my wallet, ChapStick, emergency apple, phone,and fifteen receipts to find the ibuprofen and turn to see him in a full-body shiver. When he lifts his face, it’s pale in the light from the movie screen, with dark circles under his eyes. I hand him the pills and his water. “Can I feel your head?”
He downs the medicine quickly and leans his forehead toward me. I rest my palm against him, and my heart stumbles.
He’s burning up.
“I think you have a fever,” I whisper. He leans back against his pillow and tosses his arm over his eyes.
Working quickly, I pack up the picnic. By the time the credits roll, I have everything in the cooler, and poor Finn still hasn’t moved. Ave and El grab their things when I tell them we need to get him home. I nudge Finn’s shoulder and softly tell him we are taking a load of things to the car and will be right back for him.
“Keys... pocket,” he mumbles. My eyes drop to his pants, and I see the outline of them against his upper thigh.
Holding my breath, I cautiously slip my fingers into his pocket until the warm metal touches my skin. His whole body tenses as I push in a little deeper to grasp and pull them out as quickly as I can.
My breath comes back in a rush. “I’ll be right back.”
Ave and El help with the pillows while I try to balance the rest under my arms with the cooler in one hand. We’re slow going, but we finally arrive and load everything into the trunk. When we make it back to Finn, he’s in the exact same position.
“Girls, if I get Uncle Finn up, can you grab the blanket?”
They nod, even though Ave is yawning and Eloise is rubbing her eyes. I start the task of pulling Finn up. He’s conscious enough to help with getting himself upright, and I wrap my arm around his waist as he leans on my shoulders all the way to the car.
The girls climb into their seats, and I try to shove Finn into the passenger side. He manages to help me get his legs in the right spot, and I lean across him to buckle his seat belt.
He drags in a deep breath. “Mmm. Lemons,” he sighs, then leans forward until his face is buried in my hair. “Why do you always smell so good?” he whispers, lost in the haze of a fever.
I don’t want to laugh at the man, but he’s already growing uninhibited, and it’s adorable. What else can I pull from him in his fragile state?
I guess that’s not nice, but my greedy heart wants it anyway.
Shutting the door, I jog around to the driver’s side. I have to hold down the button to move the seat forward for no less than five minutes since a giant sat here last. When I turn to check the girls are buckled, Avery is already asleep in her seat.
“Is he okay?” Eloise asks, her voice wary.
I pat her leg. “He’s going to be fine, sweetie. We’re going to take good care of him.”
