Page 69 of Almost Paradise

He takes a step closer, trying to crowd me, but I don’t budge. I hate that I have to crane my neck up to meet his eyes.

“I would have never—” he begins, but I cut him off, unwilling to hear his bullshit right now.

“I never denied he was yours. Never. Not once. And trust me, if I only thought about myself, I wouldn’t be here right now.” He opens his mouth to respond, but I talk first. “I’m not in the mood for another one of these conversations that lead to nowhere. I’m really not. It’s not in my nature to be this toxic and combative. You’re probably in your element, but it’s draining to me. I wasn’t trying to dismiss you downstairs, but I’m also not used to you being around. I’m used to running the show where he’s concerned. It wasn’t a dig. It’s not a big deal for me to take a day off work, but you’re the head of Paradise Construction. I know you think I’m selfish, but I was thinking of you and your company.” I manage to squeeze past him, but he quickly catches up to me and grabs my elbow.

“I’m sorry,” he concedes. “I’m sensitive when it comes to him, and I hate that I missed so much time. I should know how he is when he’s sick, but I know nothing about my own child.”

For a moment, I feel sorry for him. If his father did do this and he had no idea, I understand how he would feel betrayed and insecure as a parent. I’ve been here since day one. I’ve been here since before Carter was born. There isn’t a thing about him that I don’t know or can’t anticipate. Drake is still learning.

“You’re doing the best you can. You’re learning and you’re in his life. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for him. I wanted him to not only have a father but to have one who loves him and wants to spend time with him. And he doesn’t care that you don’t know things. He loves you.”

“I love him too,” he says. Something catches in his throat and he looks away. Carter calls for me, and I find him in the middle of the bed in the master bedroom clutching Bluey to his chest.

“Daddy says I can watch cartoons in here.” I put my cappuccino on the nightstand and climb into bed with my son. Drake gets on the other side, and Carter climbs on top of him.

“Mommy,” he says while I hand him Bluey.

“Yes, Carter.”

“I love having a daddy,” he whispers.

“I know you do, baby.” I run my fingers through his curly hair. Drake turns his head to look at me, and our eyes catch. I can see so much emotion in his eyes, but right in this moment, I don’t know if it’s because of what Carter said or if it’s because of me.

Three days later, Carter bounced back and returned to his healthy self, but I caught whatever he had. He complained to his daddy that he missed his friends, so Drake took him to daycare. Feeling run down, I stay home. Drake looked me up and down before leaving with Carter. He didn’t say anything, but I know I look awful, and I’m relieved to have a moment to myself.

Today is the first day he left the house since Carter has been sick. He worked, though. He had countless meetings and conference calls, all from home. Delores and the rest of the staff were here as usual, but he took care of Carter. He let Carter play in his home office while he worked.

I worked from home yesterday, and he had Carter sit on his lap through one of his meetings. He had the door cracked open, and I watched as he sat there quietly while looking from the monitor to his father in awe.

Other than the housekeeper, no one is here today. I return to my bedroom and look at my reflection in the mirror. I’m exhausted. My eyes are sunken and have dark circles around them. I was up most of the night, unable to sleep due to congestion. I go to the bathroom and take my temperature. The tip of my nose has now turned red, and the edges hurt to the touch.

“Ugh,” I say to myself when I see my temperature is over one hundred degrees. After putting on a pink onesie, I head downstairs to my home office. Today will only be the second day I’m using it, but I reluctantly agree that it’s comfortable. I don’t know how he remembered, but he got my favorite pens.

I nearly crash into him when I get to the bottom of the stairs. I go around him, but he follows me. I decide I’m going to ignore him and not ask why he’s here. I thought he’d be eager to get out of the house after three days, but I guess not.

“What are you doing?” he asks when I sit at my desk and start to log in.

“Working.” I try to sound sassy, but I start coughing.

“You’re sick.” His hand suddenly covers my forehead, and I freeze. A few weeks ago, if he had touched me, I would have pushed him away. Hell, I might have even hit him, but now I sit there like a statue. “You’re warm. You’re not working today.”

With his last statement, I get my wits back. I shove his hand off my forehead and turn toward my screen.

“I already called your manager and told her you’re sick,” he says. I whip around to look at him, but I get dizzy from the sudden movement and have to blink three times before my vision returns to normal.

“Get lost,” I tell him. “I need to work.” He snatches the wireless keyboard away from me.

“Why? Why do youneedto work?” he challenges.

“Why does anyone work?” I ask him. I roll my eyes at him and reach for my keyboard, but he moves it away. “And how dare you call my manager on my behalf? I don’t stick my nose in your business.”

“You do not need to work,” he says, and I decide I’m not going to dignify that with a response. “And I dare because I’m your husband. For the record, feel free to stick your nose in my business whenever you want.” I spin in the chair and stand. I do it too quickly and stumble back a step. He reaches for me and steadies me.

“Will you stop with the husband stuff? It doesn’t count if you do it under duress.”

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he tells me.

“Well, isn’t that great for you? You do what you want, and you force your will on everyone else. You know what you—” Another coughing fit hits, and the rest of my words get cut off.

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