Page 70 of Almost Paradise

He puts the keyboard back on the desk and picks me up bridal style all in a matter of seconds. I cough all the way upstairs into the master bedroom where he puts me down.

“I’m going to call a doctor, and then I’m going to make you some tea.” I put my head on a pillow and suddenly remember all the hours we spent in this bed. This very comfortable bed.

“I can take care of myself,” I tell him while I try to get up. He puts a hand on my shoulder and gently pushes me down.

“You can, baby girl, but you don’t have to. In sickness and in health, remember?” he says. I look up at him, fully intending to refute his words, but the intensity of his gaze stops me. “I meant my vows,” he says while looking directly into my eyes.

I look away, but I say, “You told me you didn’t want to marry me. You said I was a means to an end, remember? All you wanted out of this marriage was Carter. You can’t say you didn’t want to marry me and turn around and say you meant your vows. Both of those things can’t be true.”

“You’re right. They both can’t be true. Listen to me closely. I meant my vows,” he repeats before leaving the room.

He returns about ten minutes later with a steaming cup of orange spice tea and says, “The doctor will be here soon.” I open my mouth to tell him it’s not necessary but he speaks first. “She’s already on her way.”

He stomps to the closet and comes back in jeans and a plain black tee. I look away and try to forget how good he looks. How tall and strong he is. Memories of us from back then creep up, and as much as I try to stuff them down, I can’t.

Lazy Sundays of the two of us in this very bed. Naked and wrapped around each other. Slow, deep kisses. His big, strong hands on my skin. Moments of us in the kitchen while he would cook, and I’d watch as I drank wine spritzers or mimosas.

Him telling me how much he’d miss me because I’d have to leave for a few hours to join my family for church. It was on the tip of my tongue to invite him about a million times, but I never did.

He drops himself on the loveseat in the corner of the room and turns on his laptop.

About an hour later, Dr. Larsen, a blonde woman in her fifties examines me. She declares it’s not the flu, just a cold. I’m told to stay in bed, rest, and drink plenty of fluids.

Once she leaves, Drake brings me a bowl of chicken noodle soup, another cup of tea, water, and cold medicine. My stomach growls, and I devour the soup and the tea. Once I take the medicine, he takes the tray from me.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“You’re welcome,” he says.

“Where are you going?” he asks once I get out of bed. “Dr. Larsen says to rest.”

“To the bathroom,” I tell him. “Is that alright with you?”

He’s still there when I return, typing on his laptop. He looks up and watches me climb back into bed. My body suddenly aches, and I’ll never tell him this, but I’m grateful I don’t have to work today. I’m also grateful to have him take care of me. I put my head on the pillow, close my eyes, and promptly fall asleep.

Chapter 38

Nia

I knew I should have stayed in bed, but today’s the first day I’ve felt like myself since I got sick. After bouncing out of bed, feeling good, I decide to get on the stationary bike. Assuming Drake and Carter were already in the kitchen eating breakfast, I am unprepared for the sight I walk in on when I enter the gym. Drake is on the floor doing pushups with Carter on his back. They’re both grunting, and Carter is gritting his teeth as if he’s the one exerting all the effort. I have to put my hand to my mouth to stop myself from laughing at Carter’s facial expressions. I fail because they hear my giggles.

“Mommy!” Carter yells and waves at me. “We doing pushups.”

“I see,” I say to my son. I refuse to look at Drake’s shirtless back. “I’ll let you two continue with your workout.” The words are barely out of my mouth when Drake stands with Carter still on his back.

“We’re done,” he says, breathless. “I’m going to wash him up and start breakfast.” He moves fast. He puts his palm to my forehead to check my temperature. Then he checks my glands. I move away from him and get on the bike without saying another word.

They’re in the kitchen forty-five minutes later when I go downstairs. Carter is still on Drake’s back, and Drake is still shirtless. I don’t think they see me. The blender is mixing a green concoction.

“Good morning, baby girl,” he says after turning off the blender and looking up at me. He pours the hideous green mess into two cups but leaves them on the counter.

“That’s not baby girl,” Carter says. “That’s Mommy.”

“Well, she was my baby girl way before she became your mommy.” Drake looks at me when he says that, but I look away and ignore him. I walk to my son and kiss his cheek. He giggles and kisses me back.

“Kiss Daddy now,” he says.

“Um, your daddy doesn’t like kisses,” I tell him. I think my words come out even, but my rapid heartbeat betrays my calm exterior

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