Not that his track record for protecting those close to him was anything to brag about. Quite the opposite.
Once he’d straightened her bathroom, he went back to her bedroom and wasn’t surprised to find her asleep.
She hadn’t planned on going to sleep as she was still lying on top of the comforter rather than beneath it. Savannah was one of those that even if it were a hundred degrees outside she had to at least have a sheet over her. The fact she had dozed off spoke volumes as to how ill she was.
He should have asked if she needed anything.
He should have checked her temperature or something.
He was a cardiologist, not an infectious disease guy, but she probably had a stomach virus. Hopefully, it would run its course within twenty-four hours and she’d feel better soon.
He went back into the living room, grabbed a throw blanket off the sofa, and put it over her. She snuggled into the comfort of the blanket, but her breathing pattern didn’t change to indicate that she’d awakened.
Charlie stood over the bed watching her for a few minutes. He’d told her she looked awful, but the truth was she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.
Fearing he might wake her but unable to resist, he ran his fingers over her forehead, brushing back a stray strand of long red hair and gauging her temperature at the same time. That was why he was touching her. To check her temperature. To see if she were physically ill. Not because he’d longed to touch the creamy perfection of her skin, to trace over the faint laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, the high angle of her cheekbones, the pert lines of her jaw.
To check her temperature.
No fever. That was good.
But she hadn’t thrown up because she felt great. Something was definitely wrong.
Which left him in a quandary. Did he go or did he stay?
Tomorrow was Saturday and he wasn’t on call this weekend. He’d planned to drive to Nashville in the morning to make a decision on living arrangements. Savannah wasn’t on duty either, as he’d checked her schedule earlier that day.
No, he hadn’t checked her schedule.
He’d just happened to glance at the nursing schedule and he’d just happened to note that she wasn’t working that weekend.
What he wanted was to crawl up into the bed beside her, to hold her close and be there in case she needed him.
But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t be soft where she was concerned. Not even if she was sick.
But he wasn’t leaving. That much he knew.
He eyed the empty side of the bed where he’d laid dozens of times. He had no rights where Savannah was concerned.
Which was something he suspected would haunt him a lot longer than he cared to admit.
He’d stay the night and be there if Savannah got sick again, would be there if she needed anything. Then he’d go back to being the world’s biggest jerk.
* * *
Savannah woke with a start, stretched her arms above her head, then realized her living room throw was tucked around her.
Everything from the night before came rushing back. Charlie. Getting sick. His putting her to bed.
She glanced at her alarm clock. It was early. Much earlier than she’d like to be awake on a Saturday. But at least her stomach wasn’t churning as it had been the night before.
At least, not yet.
So far, every day this week, she’d had mild nausea in the mornings that had escalated throughout the day and peaked in the evenings. Leave it to her to have such oddly timed “morning” sickness.
But other than the woes of her breakup with Charlie, her nausea, and some fatigue, she felt good. She had a doctor’s appointment in two weeks and supposed she’d find out then how she was really doing. Until then, she’d take her prenatal vitamins and just take each day as it came.
She got out of bed, went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, then left her room to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water and a couple of crackers in hopes of warding off nausea later in the day.