“Then you really must be feeling better.” He kissed my forehead—not just with affection, although there was that too. He was making sure my fever hadn’t come back. “I can go, but remember, I have plates in the fridge ready to go in the microwave. You need to eat.”
“I will, Daddy.”
“And you need to drink all your water.”
“I will, Daddy.”
“And you need to call me if you aren’t feeling any better.”
“I will, Daddy.”
We hadn’t had a big discussion about me using that name, but it was the only thing that felt right in this situation, and not once had he shown that he minded my using it.
He gave me a hug and left, checking up on me every couple of hours via text messages. This time, I knew if I didn’t respond, he’d show up again. It was sweet, wonderful, amazing, even. But I hadn’t been exaggerating when I said that the need to entertain and keep him company was first in my mind when he was still here. It was like I didn’t want to miss a second of my time with him.
I dozed on and off all afternoon, fully waking when there was another knock on the door. So much for the buzzer system. People might have recognized August, or the buzzer might have malfunctioned again. It could be either.
Another knock had me up and walking to the door, and when I opened it, I was surprised to find Ridge there with his backpack and a pillow under his arm.
“Ridge? What’s this about?”
“I had to—” He stopped mid-sentence and looked me up and down. “Oh man, you look like shit.”
“Thanks for sparing my feelings,” I said as he came inside. I locked the door behind him. “I’ve been sick.”
“Well, did you want me to go somewhere else?”
“Ridge, you haven’t even told me why you’re here in the first place.” This was so like him.
“Oh, right. My building’s being fumigated, and I don’t have any pet-sitting jobs lined up. So I was hoping I could crash here for a few days.” His building made mine look like the fancy side of town. He claimed he loved it, but also, this wasn’t the first time he’d had to leave for fumigation, so his definition of loving a place and mine were very different.
“You’re always welcome.” I went back to the couch, grabbed my teddy, and lay down, using my unicorn as a pillow and closing my eyes. Unlike August, Ridge was like a brother to me. He could be bored. I didn’t have that same need to keep him company.
“I’ll get my stuff put away. Then want me to make dinner?”
“Daddy left dinner in the fridge,” I mumbled.
The next thing I knew, he was squatting in front of the couch, right in front of me, his face inches from mine. “You cannot throw a ‘Daddy left dinner in the fridge’ at me and then go to sleep. Sit up. You can sleep later.”
I chuckled and pushed myself up, hating that my body still ached. “I was sick. I missed some days at work. I didn’t message anybody but HR. I felt like I was at death’s door.”
“And you didn’t call an ambulance?”
“It was a figure of speech. Are you listening or being the annoying kid in class and asking questions?” I flicked his forehead.
“Fine. Get to the part where August was here.” He rubbed where my finger had hit his forehead. It didn’t hurt. I barely touched him, unlike when he did it to me. His flicks always stung.
“He just showed up, and he took care of me, and he scolded me.” I stuck my bottom lip out in a faux pout.
“He scolded you? Like you had to write lines, or you got spanked? Like, what does ‘scolded me’ mean in this context? A friend’s gotta know?”
“He told me not to do it again and to let him know if I was sick so he could take care of me.”
“Pretty sure that’s not scolding in anybody’s definition.”
“Is too,” I countered, using my not-so-big words.
“No, it’s not.” He stuck his tongue out. “And when did he become Daddy?”
