—I’ll bring chicken soup. —
—Contagious. Stay away. —
I put my phone back on my dining room table as I stared at my laptop. Colds and flus weren’t unheard of this time of year—but October felt early in the season. Still—
I texted again.—Are you okay? —
—Yeah. Not really. I’m out on sick leave for the next week. —
Fuck it.—I’m coming over. —
I didn’t wait for a response. I tucked my laptop back into my messenger bag and headed out the door. Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the lobby of the country-style restaurant while they dished up two bowls of soup and heated some garlic bread. Oh, and I decided an entire lemon meringue pie wouldbe aforgive megift.
Thirty minutes later, I let myself into Finn’s cabin. He hadn’t locked the door, but that wasn’t a huge surprise. He maintained no one would bother to rob him.
I tried to point out he didn’tknowthat. And that, in fact, robbers might not know he only had a big screen television to steal. If he had anything else, I hadn’t seen it.
“Said not to come.” A feeble voice from under a pile of blankets on the couch.
“Do you have chills? Are you hot?” I moved to the kitchen. “I brought soup, garlic bread, and pie.”
“Lemon meringue?” A little less feebly.
“Yes. Soup first.” I found a spoon, opened the lid of the container of soup, and headed to the living room. The cabin was really just one large open space with the loft above and the two bedrooms with the bathroom in the back. “Sit up.”
He pushed himself up. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were bright. His hair was a disaster.
I’d never thought him more adorable. I handed him the soup and spoon. “What does your mother the nurse say?”
“Keep her out of this.” He pouted.
“You haven’t told her.”
“It’s a cold. Or the flu. Or COVID. Or something.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Do you not know the difference between a rhinovirus, coronavirus, and influenza?”
He rolled his eyes. “I just feel like shit. Thank you for the soup.” He took his first sip. “This is awesome.”
“Fifties didn’t have the soup or the pie.”
He eyed the container. “Oh, these folks are great too.”
“I hoped so.”
“Are you havingsome?’
“That’s the plan.”
He pointed to the chair. “Stay well away from me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I think I can keep my hands off you. You look like shit.”
“Well, I feel worse.” He sipped. “This really is appreciated.”
“My pleasure.” I headed back toward the kitchen. “How did you catch this…whatever this is?”
“No clue. Miriam says no one else is sick. I thought maybe I got it from you.”
