Sam dropped his hand on my shoulder, saying, “Luc, I’m thinking she caught the flu from you. That is pretty much how you were when I got you home from the airport. She needs something for the fever and a few days in bed. Do you want me to go to the store and pick up some stuff while you get her settled?”
“I’m not leaving her here. She’s coming home with me so I can take care of her.” Sam looked surprised but learned long ago to adjust quickly. Her roommate’s mouth has dropped open at my statement, and she looks nervous.
“I…um…who are you? I mean…you’re the God, obviously, but I’m not sure if Lia should leave with you while she’s sick.”
I brushed off her concern, saying, “Lia should leave with me precisely because she’s sick. She’ll call you when she’s feeling better.” I pull out my wallet and hand her one of my business cards. “If you need anything, just call my office, and they’ll get a message to me.” Before she can object further, I lift Lia in my arms and carry her down to my car.
Over the next couple of days, I do stuff for a woman I’ve never done before; I change her clothes, sponge off her face, sit her on the toilet and hold her in place so she doesn’t fall off onto the floor. I coax medicine down her throat, and hold her in my arms when she’s burning with fever but freezing to death. Then I do it all over again…and again. There is one bonus, though: she is fucking adorable on Nyquil. I don’t think she even remembers how she would talk ninety miles a minute and suddenly pass out in mid-sentence. I swear, one moment, she was asking me a question and before I could get the answer out, she was snoring with her mouth hanging open. One of the funniest things I’ve ever witnessed.
The office is in some kind of uproar, though. After being out sick a few days myself, then staying home to be with Lia, Cindy is convinced I have some kind of terminal illness I’m not telling them about. Aidan is also calling every hour, ‘just checking in.’ Yeah, when the hell has he called that much in a twenty-four hour period? Sam is the only one who actually believes me since he has been witness to most of it. It doesn’t say much for me as a person if those closest to me can't freaking grasp that I could care about someone enough to doctor them back to health. Maybe care isn’t the right word; returning the favor might be more accurate. It is definitely less terrifying.
Well, fuck, Aidan is standing on the sidewalk smoking when Sam drops me at the curb. Being interrogated before I even walk in the door is not something I’m looking forward to. “Hey, man.” He grins, taking in my impatient stance.
“Aidan,” I say in return. Looking at my watch, I add, “We’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes. Are you ready?”
He almost looks offended as he says, “Of course, aren’t I always? We should be wrapping up around lunch; where do you want Cindy to make reservations?”
“Wherever you want. I’m leaving as soon as we are finished.” Aidan takes another drag off the cigarette as he seems to consider my answer.
“The girl still sick then?” I know him well. His manner looks casual and relaxed, but he’s anything but.
“She’s better. I’m going to work from home again this afternoon just in case.”
I jerk in shock when he growls, “What about Cassie? You replace her with a new-and-improved model?” As the shock wears off, I want to take my friend and pummel his ass right where he stands. How dare he ask me that; how fucking dare the bastard.
“That’s none of your goddamn business. Lia has nothing to do with that.”
Aidan, ever the chameleon, smiles, slapping me on the back. “Sure, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just seems this girl is different for you. Strangely familiar, you know?” He stubs his cigarette out under his toe, saying, “I’m just going to get a cup of coffee before coming up.” He walks off looking agitated. No matter how many years we have been friends, Cassie is always between us. For Aidan, she’ll always be the one who got away. I wonder if he would still carry that fantasy in his head and his heart if he had been the one involved with her beyond friendship. I barely survived her love, and God knows I hadn’t been as emotionally invested as Aidan. Maybe if I had, things would have ended differently. Who the hell knows; it’s too damn painful to even think about, and it’s been done to death already.
I make it to my office after collecting some messages from Cindy. She, too, asks about Lia, but seems genuinely concerned. I’m sure Sam has given her all the details by now. She is probably just thrilled to see I’ve been with the same woman for more than a week. The urge to snort a line is strong as I shut the door behind me, but I refrain; I need to stop using it as a crutch to deal with everything that is fucked-up in my life. Maybe that resolve comes from imagining what Lia would think if she knew. Of course, with her screwed-up background, it would take a lot to surprise her.