What in the hell is going on? But now isn’t the time to ask.
I follow him into the room. He’s still shaking his head and trying not to cry. I squeeze his arm. “Dad, it’s going to be okay. You take care of Carolynda, and we’ll take care of Maisy.”
He nods and gives me a grateful smile. “Let me check the bags. I know we brought Tylenol.”
Things settle down after that. We take turns holding Maisy. She’s clingy when she’s sick. I’d probably know that if I were around more. Carolynda doesn’t get better, so Dad takes her to the emergency room for IV fluids.
Maisy has a fever off and on all day. Vivian coaxes her into eating a few bites of apple sauce and one bite of toast. She keeps it all down, which is a relief.
It’s my turn to hold Maisy, so I sing Jason Aldean to her and kiss her forehead. This isn’t what I was expecting to do today. The schedule I painstakingly made is totally fucked. I laugh.
“What?” Vivian is on the bed, and it looks like he’s texting someone on his phone. He finally glances up. “You’re staring.”
I ignore his comment. “We’re supposed to be at the Durango & Silverton Railroad Museum right now. Dad was so excited about it.”
Vivian’s phone beeps, and he picks it up, looks at it, and then throws it down. “Nothing on this trip has gone according to plan. It’s been a mess from day one.”
“True.” Something about his words bothers me. Is he including us in that statement? Does he regret everything that happened last night? And God, I feel like shit for even thinking that.
What if Carolynda is really sick?
The day drags on. But I do nap a bit while holding Maisy, so that’s helpful. Vivian finally manages to put Maisy down on the bed without her waking up. He nods toward the bathroom, and I follow him. Does he want to talk about us? The kiss we shared?
“Have you heard anything from George? How’s Mom doing?”
Ignoring the guilt churning in my stomach, I pull out my phone and read over Dad’s latest message. “The anti-nausea meds are working. They think after this bag of fluids, she’ll be released.”
He pulls at his hair. “Why won’t they tell us what’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but—” I stop abruptly. Will telling him make everything worse?
“But what? I need to know.” He steps closer. The bathroom is small, and Vivian being this close brings back memories I can’t deal with right now. Kissing him. Wanting him. I’m up against the counter, and there’s no place to move.
I focus on his question. “When I went to get the meds for Maisy, Dad started crying. It was before I told him Maisy was sick.”
His eyes fill with tears and his chin trembles.
Hugging him seems like a step too far, so I squeeze his arms. “Hey, she’s going to be okay.”
“You can’t know that.”
I’m not sure I even believe it, but my chest aches at the pain I can see in his eyes. I want to make it better. “Maybe not, but there’s no sense in thinking the worst until we know for sure.”
“You know you can’t fix everything, right?”
I shrug. “I can try.”
He studies my face. I’m not sure what he sees, but he wraps his hand around my nape and draws me closer. Instead of kissing me, he rests his head against mine. “I need something to get me out of my head.” He touches my chin.
All the air whooshes out of my body. “Like what?” I ask softly.
“If Maisy wasn’t here, I’d show you. But I’ll give you a hint. It involves your cock and my mouth.”
My body responds with a hell yes. But Maisy is in the next room, so it isn’t going to happen. “You’re a tease, Vivian.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet. I’m what they call a brat.”
He winks and walks out of the room. I stay for a long while, trying to recover my composure.
