Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Her voice is full of joy when she says, “I love this phone call. Okay, he’s going to need some Gatorade. He’ll get dehydrated fast, so keep offering him lots of fluids. Crackers will be easy on his tummy. Maybe some Jell-O or pudding. Bland things that don’t upset his stomach more are the key.
“I’d start there. He’ll also get bored as he starts to feel better, so plan to watch a lot of TV.”
“I can do that,” I reply. “Okay, this is a good start. Thanks.”
“Watch his fever. If it stays high, take him to the doctor. Oh, and you’ll need children’s Tylenol for the fever.”
“Jesus, just text me a list.”
She laughs in my ear. “How’s Willa?”
“She’s great. Worried now, of course.”
“And how are things between the two of you?”
I should have known this would turn into a Q&A session.
“Good.”
“Come on, Max, give me more than that. Are you serious?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m gonna marry her for sure.”
“Don’t play with my emotions.”
“I’m not.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then Mom lets out a loud whoop.
“It’s about damn time!”
“I take it you approve?”
“Yes, and I’ll gain a grandson. I couldn’t be more excited. I’ll let you go; I know it’s going to be a busy couple of days with Alex being sick.”
“Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, too.” I can hear her move the phone away from her face, but she doesn’t hang up before I hear her yell, “We have to go to Montana!”
I hurry through the store, checking the list Mom texted over shortly after our talk. I add some wine for Willa, along with some snacks for her and me, and a frozen pizza for dinner, then hurry back to her place.
I walk in to chaos.
There’s crying and dog whines coming from Alex’s room, so I leave the bags of groceries on the kitchen island and hurry back.
Alex is covered in vomit, as is Willa, and Rocky is on the floor at the foot of the bed, watching it all unfold.
We’re all just lucky the puppy isn’t leaping in to eat what’s covering the two people I love.
“Okay,” I say, surprising both of them. I take Willa’s shoulders in my hands and kiss her forehead. “You go take a shower. I got this.”
“What are you doing here?” Her eyes already look tired. “It’s really okay if you go home.”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” I ask, shaking my head. “We’re in this together. I went to the store and bought provisions, which are currently on the kitchen island. You go get a shower and put those away. I’m going to get Alex fixed up.”
She stares at me wordlessly, then blinks rapidly and kisses my cheek, careful not to press herself against me.
“Thank you. I’ll be ten minutes.”
She hurries off, and I turn to Alex, who’s sniffling.
“Let’s go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up, buddy.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t argue as I help him strip out of the pajamas that were clean thirty minutes ago and into the shower.
“Are you okay here while I change your bedsheets?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to wash my hair.”
“No yuckies in your hair, so I think you’re safe.” I kiss his cheek and hurry back to his room, where I strip the bed, put the linens in the laundry, and find clean ones in a hall closet.
Just as I finish making the bed, Rocky hops onto it and turns a circle, settling in to rest.
“Good boy,” I say, petting his head and scratching his ears. “You stay here and get ready to snuggle your human. I’ll have him back here in a flash.”
I find another set of clean PJs and rush back to the bathroom.
“How’s it going in there?” I ask.
“I feel a little better,” Alex says, his voice weak.
“Good. Are you all rinsed off?”
“Yeah.”
“You can get out then. There are clean clothes by the sink. Are you okay by yourself?”
“Yes, sir.”
I grin. Even when Alex doesn’t feel well, he has his manners. He may be pushing his mom’s patience lately, but Willa’s still doing something right.
“I’ll meet you back in your bedroom.”
I walk out to the kitchen to find a fresh Willa unpacking grocery bags.
“This is incredible,” she says with tears in her voice.
“It’s just Gatorade and pizza,” I say, not sure how to navigate this.
“No, it’s not.” She shakes her head. “It’s a lot more than that. I don’t remember the last time I had someone here to help. My mom’s awesome, but it’s—”
“It’s not the same.” I tug her to me and rub my hands up and down her back soothingly. “It’s not the same as having a partner.”
“No.” She sniffles and looks up at me. “I’m afraid to get too used to this, Max. To depend on it. I’m too accustomed to being a one-woman show, and I’m good at it. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to go back to that once I settle into this.”