Blinking his eyes heavily, breaths shallow, he shook his head. “I think I’m getting the flu. Several other people at work have had it.” His words slurred together in two weak phrases like it took all the energy out of him to say them.
“Bed. Now.” I forced him to drape an arm around my shoulder as we stumbled to the bed before he collapsed and took me down with him. He plopped one arm over his forehead, completely out of breath, while his other arm and one leg dangled from the side of the bed.
“How bad is this? And don’t lie to me. Should I call an ambulance?” It had been years since the incident in his condo that led to a trip to the hospital and no diagnosis or one single clue as to why he seemed to be dying one minute and completely fine the next.
“No ambulance,” he murmured as I tucked his arm and leg into bed. Then I grabbed a pair of briefs and worked them up his legs. He could barely lift his lower body to help me get them up all the way.
“Roe …” I whispered with my heart aching in my chest, a boulder of fear swelling in my throat as I kneeled on the bed beside him.
“I’m fine …” Without opening his eyes, he pawed for my hand, grabbing it and giving it a squeeze—a weak squeeze.
“I don’t believe you.” I kissed the back of his hand.
“Well…” he stifled a grunt as he rolled on his side toward me, peeling open his eyes “…you should.”
I pressed my body to his as if I needed to keep him warm with it. “Why?”
“Because I’m your husband.”
“And I’m your wife. I’d like to stay your wife instead of becoming a widow.”
“I’m not dying, Evie. Can’t I be sick like everyone else?”
“No.” I kissed his chest and grinned. “You’re a god. You’re my god. Strong. Immortal.”
“I was immortal before I met you.” He pressed his lips to the top of my head and left them there. “You and the kids have weakened me, taken huge chunks of my heart.” He paused for a few breaths. “Now I second-guess shit and worry about things like choking on grapes and exposed electrical sockets.”
“I’m calling Lila and rescheduling our lunch.”
“Nah-uh.” He slid his hand to my hip. It felt like deadweight resting there. “You’re calling Sue to see if she can watch the kids so you can have a relaxing lunch with Lila. And I …” he released a slow breath. “I’m going to sleep while my body fights this off.”
“It’s her day off.”
“She’ll watch them.”
She would. I knew it. But I still hated to ask. Sue was Soapy Sophie’s mom and a retired schoolteacher. Sophie hooked us up with her after Franz became mobile and I could no longer keep him confined to a carrier or bouncy seat at the shop. Saponification with a toddler running around wasn’t exactly easy.
“Fine. But I’m going to ask her to come here to watch them.”
“No. I need my rest.”
“Well, I need to know that you’re not dying while I’m having lunch with Lila. That’s my final offer.”
“Offer accepted,” he whispered.
We met for lunch at our favorite Italian restaurant. Lila arrived first, sipping a glass of chardonnay when I arrived.
“Hi.” Her sad and apologetic smile made me completely melt. One look was all it took for me to recognize my friend again. She stood and we hugged. “I’m sorry.”
Releasing her, I shook my head while sliding into the other side of the spacious booth by the window. “Don’t apologize. I’m to blame as well. My emotions have been all over the place since my mom’s cancer returned. And then this morning, Ronin about collapsed getting out of the shower, which immediately sent me back to the time I had to call an ambulance before we got married.”
“Oh my gosh! Is he okay?” She sat up a little straighter.
“I … I don’t know. I think it’s just the flu or some normal sickness. Sue is at the house, watching the kids and keeping an eye on him.”
“Who’s Sue?”
I bit my tongue, taking in a slow breath. Lila was right. I didn’t know her life anymore. And clearly she didn’t know mine either. “She’s Sophie’s mom. Franz’s and Anya’s babysitter.” She’d only been helping me out for years. Why would I expect my best friend to know this?
Lila nodded just before taking another sip of wine. “Well, let me know if Ronin doesn’t get better soon. I want to help.”
I reached across the table and rested my hand on her hand as she fiddled with the cloth napkin. “I want to help too. What do you need? What can I do to help with some of your stress?”
Grunting a laugh, she rolled her eyes. “You have a business to run, two young children, and a sick mother. I don’t need your help. Really.”