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“Thank you, see you soon.”

After disconnecting the call, I write some patient notes on my computer as quickly as possible, then take my white coat off and hang it on the back of my office door.

Dr. Pham is in the office next door to mine. I knock on her open door and she looks up from her computer. “Hey, I’m heading out to pick up my daughter. The school called saying she’s sick.”

“Poor thing, hope she feels better soon.” She gives me a sympathetic smile.

“Thanks. I already had the front desk reschedule the rest of my patients for the day. Could you ask them to reschedule tomorrow’s patients too?”

“Of course, take care of that sweet girl.”

“Will do,” I say with a little wave as I walk away and head out to the parking lot.

Please don’t throw up in my Bronco, please don’t throw up in my Bronco. I internally repeat to myself on the way home from picking Penny up. Her face looks green as she holds her stomach.

“Alright, Pen. We’re home.” I park in the garage and rush to get her out of the vehicle before she explodes.

Picking her up, I carry her inside the house. She holds onto my neck with a grumble. “Daddy, I want to lie down. My tummy hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart. We’re almost there.”

I walk to her bedroom with swift steps and lay her in her bed. Then I dart to the hallway to retrieve some towels. I put one under her and one on the floor, then grab her little trashcan and place it next to her bed. She grabs for her comforter and snuggles in.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she mumbles and tries to smile, but it looks more like a grimace.

“I’m going to change out of my work clothes, then I’ll be back to check on you,” I whisper as I smooth her hair back away from her face.

Taking a deep breath, I walk to my room and get changed out of my dress pants and white button-up shirt. I throw on my favorite pair of comfy grey sweatpants and a black v-neck t-shirt then rush back to Penny’s room to check on her. She has her eyes closed and looks content. I sit on the side of her bed and rub her back. Sick children are just about the saddest sight you’ll ever see.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and shoot a text to Sophie.

Drew: Hey, Penny is sick too, so I got her from school early. We’re home now. Do you need anything?

I wait for her to reply for five minutes before my phone finally pings.

Sophie: I just feel like I should warn you I have no clue what havoc Samantha is wreaking on this apartment while I’m overcome with this plague. But I promise to pay for whatever damages she’s made.

Drew: Don’t worry about the apartment. Can I help with Sam? She can watch TV upstairs.

Sophie: Would you really do that? My parents are out of town and I don’t want to expose Odette to sickness, otherwise I’d ask them to help.

Drew: It’s seriously no big deal. I’ll come get her.

Sophie: I owe you big time.

Standing up from Penny’s bed, I walk to the basement steps. Once I’m at the bottom, I knock a few times before opening the basement door. It’s eerily quiet, which means Samantha is definitely getting into trouble. Three-year-olds and quiet are never a good mix.

I peek into her room and find her there with a marker in each hand. One black and one orange. She’s drawn stripes all over her skin and smiles up at me.

“I’m a tiger! Rawr!” She giggles.

I shake my head but can’t hold back the chuckle that escapes from my mouth. “You’re in big trouble is what you are.”

She scampers over to my side and hugs my legs. I pick her up and tousle her blonde curls. “Let’s check on your mommy real quick before we head upstairs, okay?”

“Okay!” She responds, oblivious to the fact that her mother feels like crap.

Walking down the hallway with the naughty little tiger in my arms, I find Sophie curled up on the small sofa in the fetal position. There’s a bucket by her side and her purse has been discarded in the center of the room. Like she was so desperate to lie down when she arrived home, she couldn’t even make it to the table to set her things down. My heart wrenches at the thought.

“Hey, can I get you anything?”

She opens one eye and peeks up at us. I can tell when she spots Sam’s stripes because her eyes fly wide open. “Oh my gosh, Samantha. You’d be in big trouble if I didn’t feel like death warmed over.”

Samantha giggles and then growls as she puts one hand up like a claw.

“Thankfully, it’s washable marker this time.” I smile. “Can I get you anything before we head upstairs?”

“You’re a saint, Drew.” The sound of my name on her lips sends a shiver down my spine. “Thank you for keeping an eye on Sam. Would you hand me that water bottle that’s on the table?”

“Of course.” If only she knew I’d bring her a mountain on a silver platter if she asked me to. I retrieve the water bottle and hand it to her. “Text me if you think of anything else.”

“Thank you.” She whispers, then closes her eyes.