Fuck.
Cyrus shifts next to me. I’m suddenly aware of how close we are. His muscled arm is pressed against mine. “Don’t overthink it,” he says quietly. “Do you want to go out with us both?”
“Yes,” I say immediately.
“Great.” He leans forward and brushes his hot lips lightly over my cheek. “That’s settled, then. We’ll pick you up at eight, yeah? Seb will be home by then, he can babysit.”
“You can’t babysit your own child,” I point out. “He’s her dad. Heshouldbe looking after her.”
“God, you’re cute.” He presses another kiss to my cheek, then stands, heading over to Cami’s crib. “Come on, ladybug,” he says, heaving her up into his arms. “I need help picking out my outfit for tonight. I bet you’ve got a great fashion sense, huh?”
She wraps her arms around his neck, kicking her legs. I watch him leave, my heart pounding. Anticipation curls in my stomach.
I am very much looking forward to tonight.
* * *
Unfortunately, the rest of the day doesn’t exactly go to plan.
I first notice something’s wrong when I get Cami up for dinner. She wakes up teary-eyed and fuzzy, and immediately starts crying. When I pick her up and press my lips to her cheek, I frown. Her skin feels too hot. I touch her cheek, then her forehead, then carry her into the hallway and knock on Jack’s bedroom door. “Jack?”
“Yeah?” He calls, his voice muffled by the wood.
“Do you guys have a thermometer?”
There’s some clattery sounds from inside his bedroom, and then his head pops out. “What?” He runs his eyes over my face. “Are you not feeling well?”
“I’mfine. But Cami’s feeling a bit warm to me. I think she might have a little fever.”
His eyes widen. He falls out of his bedroom door and practically sprints over to the bathroom, pulling open the cupboard over the sink. He stirs around inside, then hands me an infrared thermometer laser gun.
“Fancy.” I hold it over her forehead and press the button. When it vibrates, I check the reading. 38. “Yeah, she’s got a fever. But not a really bad one.” I kiss her head. “Poor baby. You don’t feel too good, huh?”
“Fuck,” he swears, then shoots me an apologetic look. “Shit. Sorry.” He takes Cami from me and pulls her into a tight hug, rubbing his cheek against hers. She mewls. “What’s wrong with her?” He demands.
“She doesn’t have any other symptoms, and she’s eating fine. She’s just fussy and a bit tired.” I kiss her cheek. “It’s probably just a cold. She might have picked it up at the paediatrician’s.”
“Can you stay tonight?” He pretty much begs. “Please? I know we planned to go out, but—”
I’m already nodding. “Of course. We can reschedule for some other time.”
I’m sure Cami will be fine; between babysitting my foster siblings and nannying, I’ve looked after countless babies with fevers, and only one ever needed medical treatment. But I have a strong feeling that if I leave the boys with Cami, they’ll be calling an ambulance before the hour is up. Not that I can blame them. All new parents panic when their kids get sick.
Still clutching at Cami, Jack pulls out his phone and starts typing frantically on the screen.
I rub my eyes. “Please tell me you’re not googling it—”
“It says if they have a fever and they’re under six months you should call a doctor!”
“And she’s not under six months,” I point out patiently.
“Only by a few weeks! What difference will that make?” He keeps scrolling, and his mouth drops open. “It says fevers can causeseizuresin babies—”
“Febrile seizures, yeah. They don’t tend to be dangerous, honey.”
“But they can be, right?”
I take his phone off him. “Don’t look at that. It’s very unlikely that will happen to her, and even if it does, I’m trained in infant first aid, remember? If she needs to go to the hospital, I will tell you. But it is incredibly likely that she just has a cold. There’s no point subjecting her to a hospital waiting room, and a bunch of strangers and jabs, if she doesn’t need all of that.”