“Woman, let me take care of you.” His tone doesn’t leave any room for discussion. A fuzzy feeling of warmth overtakes me at his words. Sebastian helps me sit up and drink. His phone rings twice, but he ignores it. After I’m done with the tea, I cuddle against his chest, starting to feel drowsy again. I know the medicine I need, but I don’t have any with me. Come on, Ava. You’ve done this before. Get your sick ass to the pharmacy before you fall asleep again. Clumsily, I attempt to get out of bed.
“What are you doing?” Sebastian asks.
“Going to the pharmacy.”
He raises his eyebrows. “You’re mad if you think I’ll let you go anywhere in this state.”
“Sebastian, the pharmacy is around the corner; I’ll make it. I need that medicine or I won’t feel better. I have a fever, so I might have the flu, not a common cold.”
He stares at me as though I’ve grown a second head. Hell, I feel like I’ve grown a second head, and both heads are swimming right now. “How about you tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you? You know, since I’m here anyway.”
“Oh,” I say. “I hadn’t thought of that. Are you sure?”
“Yes. How did it even occur to you to get out of bed?”
“I take care of myself all the time. I get sick at least once on every project. I should carry a bag of medicine with me.”
“What do you need?”
I tell him the name of the medicine, and he’s off. Either he knows how to teleport, or I fall asleep, but it seems like only a few seconds have passed when he returns.
“Here you go.”
He holds me in his arms after I take the medicine, and it feels so warm and impossibly good that I don’t ever want to let go. I fall asleep again.
I wake up to whispers—this time they belong to two different people. One voice belongs to Sebastian, the other one to a woman. There is the sound of a door closing and the whispering stops.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“My mother. She dropped off some chicken soup. Homemade.”
“Oh, that is very kind of her.”
“Pippa also stopped by. She brought you some sweets. Self-bought.”
I snicker. “Can I have some soup?”
“Yeah, not a good idea.”
“Why not?” I ask, genuinely puzzled.
“My mother is a woman of many talents, but a very unpredictable cook. Her pastries are delicious, her soups horrible.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I counter. “I want to try it.”
Sebastian smiles. “At your own risk.” He opens the lid of the Tupperware container, putting the spoon inside. As I eye the soup, my throat constricts, rejecting the mere idea of food. I need liquids in my system, though. Soup is perfect. I shove a spoonful in my mouth and it takes all I have not to spew it back out. With the greatest effort, I swallow it.
“My God, this is horrible.”
“Told you so. We never had the heart to tell her. But you’ll like the sweets Pippa brought.” He puts them in front of me, and I dig in, suddenly full of appetite.
“Now we’re talking,” I say. “Sebastian, I feel a little better. You can go back to the office, you know.”
“I’ve canceled all my meetings for today.”
I look at him, stunned. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“No, I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. Now, stop being such a mule and accept that I’m going to stay with you today and tomorrow if you don’t feel any better.”