“Told you I wasn’t leaving. How are you feeling?”
“What time is it?” I ask through the grogginess.
“Just after two. You slept all morning.”
“And you’ve been here the whole time?” I ask, sitting up. My bones feel weak, but my stomach is no longer upset and I feel much better.
He nods in confirmation. “I have. I hope that’s okay. I wasn’t sure what time you feed your cat at, but I made sure to fill her dish. And I had my mom stop by. She dropped off her famous chicken noodle soup,” he tells me, and my heart can’t take it.
“You really didn’t have to do this. Though, thank you for feeding Pumpkin. I’m glad you aren’t so scared of her anymore,” I tease him, and he chuckles.
“She isn’t so bad after all. Cuddly thing.”
I laugh because I can’t believe this man has sat at my house all day, cuddling my cat and taking care of me. “Thank you for everything. I really appreciate it,” I tell him with sincerity. “And soup sounds perfect.”
“Great. Do you wanna take a shower and I can get that heated for you?” he asks, and my face flames. Oh God. I probably stink and can definitely feel that my hair is greasy. I hope to God I don’t have puke in my hair or on my clothes.
“Okay,” I say, pushing away the blankets only to realize I’m also not wearing a bra. I cross my arms over my chest and avoid meeting his eyes.
“I’ll just be in the kitchen.” He points his thumb out the door, leaving me alone to bask in my embarrassment.
Making my way to the bathroom, I cringe at my reflection when I see that the pile of hair on top of my head is not only greasy, but a giant knot. My face is pale and my eyes tired. Quickly undressing, I get into the shower and wash off the remnants of being sick. By the time I get out, my body is exhausted. I change into a pair of sweats and a comfy sweater, not bothering with my hair. My arms are too weak to comb it right now, so I’ll eat and then try.
Shuffling down the hall, I smell the delicious scent of chicken soup, and my stomach grumbles, eager to be fed. I sigh as I plop down on the bar stool, happy to be sitting again.
“Here.” West slides a bowl in front of me. “I swear there is nothing better than my ma’s soup when you’re sick,” he says with pride. Smiling, he places a spoon in the bowl, and I thank him.
“Do you want me to comb your hair?” he asks.
I moan as the flavours of carrots, celery and chicken hit my tongue. West is right. This is absolutely perfect.
“Oh,” I say, finally registering what he asked. “It’s okay,” I tell him, reaching up and playing with the wet strands.
“It’s no problem. Where is your brush?” he asks.
I hesitate before telling him it’s on the sink in the bathroom.
Returning a few minutes later with brush in hand, he sweeps my hair back and begins to lightly comb. I lean into his touch and am quite surprised when I feel what I think is him braiding my hair.
“Are you braiding my hair?” I ask, impressed.
“I am. Hope that’s okay?” he questions, pausing for a beat before continuing to make his way down the end of my hair.
“Of course. I’m just surprised you know how,” I tell him honestly.
“I’m not the best at it, but I do have a little sister and a niece, so as you can imagine, I’ve had practice.” He chuckles, making me smile at the thought of West doing his sister’s and niece’s hair.
“I really appreciate all that you’ve done today. The soup, the hair. It means a lot.”
As I finish the last bite of chicken soup, he ties my hair and grabs the bowl, rinsing it and putting it into the dishwasher for me.
If he’s not careful, I could get used to this. Someone taking care of me.
“I’m here whenever you need, Jade. It wouldn’t have felt right to just leave you earlier. Fevers can be dangerous, and I was worried you’d wake up and need help.”
“Well, I do apologize that you had to see me like that. I know I looked awful.” I shudder at the reminder of my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
“You’re always beautiful, Jade.”
