As he drove home late that night, he knew his mind would be far too wired to sleep. So he'd look in on Piper and hole up in his home office, start working out the specifics to his plan. This wasn't about money. No way in hell could he offer her the kind of salary she'd be accustomed to at a metropolitan paper with serious resources. So he had to play other cards. The benefits of small town life. The chance to take a bigger role and more control in the publication. The opportunity to raise her child in a town where the most serious crime in the last six months had been grand theft auto by a couple of high schoolers looking to joyride. Even connections to the Southern art scene for her wife. He'd get on the latter tomorrow and see if Peter Chadwick would reach out to Leslie Clark-Ellis about the possibility of a show. Might as well get Wishful in both their minds before he made the call.
Piper had left the lights on for him. Thoughtful. Because the po-boy Simone brought had been hours ago, Myles tugged open the fridge in search of leftover Chinese. Nothing.
Huh. She must've changed her mind. Damn, we need to go to the grocery.
He scribbled out a list while he was thinking about it, then walked quietly down the hall, not wanting to wake her.
The light from the bedroom shone into the hall. Myles glanced at his watch. Nearly midnight. Surely she hadn't waited up for him.
But Piper wasn't curled up in bed reading or watching TV. The door to the bathroom was ajar, the light on in there. He pushed it open the rest of the way, expecting to see her getting ready for bed—and felt his heart stop at the sight of a long, naked leg stretched along the floor.
"Piper!" He bolted into the room.
She lay naked on the bath mat in front of the toilet, partially draped in a towel. Oh God, had she fallen? Somehow struck her head?
Myles crouched beside her, pitifully relieved to feel the warmth of living flesh when he laid a hand on her thigh. No blood. No bruising. At least half the scenarios that'd popped into his overactive mind, faded. "Piper, baby."
She slitted her eyes open, but didn't lift her head. "You're home." Her voice came out in a rusty croak.
"What the hell happened?"
Her eyes drifted shut again, as if even holding them open was too much effort. "Stomach flu. Don't touch me. You'll catch it."
“Screw that. What kind of husband would I be if I fell down on the ‘in sickness’ part?” Self recriminations ricocheted through his mind for what kind of husband he’d been these past couple of weeks that he hadn’t even realized she’d been getting sick.
He started to scoop her up, but she groaned in protest.
“I don’t think I’m done throwing up.” As if to illustrate the point, she jackknifed up, gripping the bowl and retching. Nothing came up but bile.
“Oh, honey.”
Myles brought her a cold, wet washcloth and wiped her face. She groaned, a blend of pain and relief. He filled a glass from the bathroom counter and brought it back to where she lay draped on the rim, her head lolling on her arm. Sliding an arm behind her back, he lifted her to a sitting position and held the glass to her lips. “C’mon. Sip and swish.”
Once her mouth was washed out, he eased her back down. “You’re freezing.”
“Naked. Tile floor.”
“Yeah, why is that?”
“Barely made it out of the tub.”
Not sure where she’d put her pajamas, he pulled one of his own shirts out of the closet. “Let’s fix that.” Kneeling beside her, he slipped it over her head.
“Thanks.”
“Let’s get you out of the floor.”
“I don’t think I should be far from the toilet.”
“Okay then.” He bent and lifted her, shifting around and settling back on the floor in the tiny room with her in his lap.
“You really shouldn’t—”
“Shouldn’t what? Take care of you? Sickness and health. I’m already exposed. Deal with it.”
“You don’t have time for this,” she protested, shoving weakly at his shoulder. “You don’t have time for me.”
The resentment in her voice was faint but there. It rankled and fed the guilt already nipping at his heels. Did she have any idea what he’d had to do to spend all that time with her before the wedding? None of that was free, and he was having to pay the price for it now. Unfortunately, that meant he’d been a less than perfect spouse lately. What more did she expect him to do?