Page 56 of Maid For Each Other

Maybethatwas why he was so frustrated.

I wasn’t fulfilling my contractual obligations because I let my asthma attack get this bad.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Declan said, his green eyes staring into mine. “You are going to climb on my back and I’m going to give you a piggyback ride.”

“What?”

“No argument and no discussion,” he said. “This isn’t up for debate. You weigh about five pounds, and it’s a beautiful morning for me to take a walk. You can concentrate on deep breathing while going for a ride on your fake boyfriend’s back.”

Five pounds, my ass, but I’ll let that delightful exaggeration slide.

I wanted to argue, but I could see on his face that there was no point.

And I was also getting so tired, the bone-deep exhaustion that always followed an attack settling over me.

I was so mad at myself for being reckless with this again. I had definiteissueswhen it came to my inhaler; my therapist’s theory was that it was like the physical evidence of my hidden imperfectionsor something. I wasn’t sure if that was exactly true, but Ididhave a lot of childhood memories that included trying to hide from my mother how often I had to use it. She’d made no secret of the fact that it wasn’t cheap, dealing with my asthma, and she’d also made it clear that my inability to be the healthy, athletic daughter she’d always wanted was a huge disappointment to her.

So yeah—I was a little neurotic about my puffer.

Logically I knew it was just medicine to help a relatively common health issue, but getting myself to take it in public without feeling like my insecure ten-year-old self was another thing entirely.

“Okay,” I said, shaking my head because I just really couldn’t believe this was happening. “But, Declan, I am so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, and his mouth turned up the tiniest bit, like he was trying to reassure me. “This is seriously no big deal. I’m not competitive about running and I don’t feel like it’s a loss that I didn’t get to prove I’m faster than Gloria in accounting. Now get on.”

He turned and crouched down so I could jump on his back. It was absolutely absurd, but I climbed onto his back and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He started walking, and I started feeling marginally better as I concentrated on taking big, slow breaths.

“So how long have you had asthma?” he asked, not shying away from discussing it. There were sporadic people walking and running around us now, the noncompetitive hanger-backers who didn’t care about what time they finished, but they weren’t really paying attention to us.

“Pretty much my whole life,” I said, not wanting to discuss it but then again, I wasn’t going to be seeing Declan anymore aftertonight, so what did it matter? “It wasn’t as bad when I was little, and it’s not this bad all the time. Most of the time I take my daily medicine in the morning and then I don’t really think about it. It only becomes an issue when I’m around things I’m allergic to, like cats and dogs, and in the fall.”

“So you decided to run in a race in the fall,” he said, and the arms that were wrapped around the backs of my knees felt warm and strong. I don’t know why I was noticing them, but it suddenly seemed like that was all I could feel.

“You’re paying a lot for my services, so the least I could do was give the 5K a shot,” I explained, expecting him to appreciate the sacrifice.

The frustration was back in his voice when he asked, “Did you really think I was such an asshole that if you told me you couldn’t run in this race, I wouldn’t pay you?”

He sounded insulted.

“No, no, it’s not that,” I said, even though that was exactly what I’d been worried about—minus theassholepart. “It’s more that I wouldn’twantyou to pay me if I didn’t fulfill my obligations.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat, and I thought he wasn’t going to comment. But after a moment or two, he said, “You know, when you stood in that stupid shirt and threatened to call the cops onmefor stalking, I never would’ve believed you’d be so dedicated to our ruse.”

“That’s because you didn’t know me,” I said, remembering the way he’d looked down at me in the stinky alley like I was an annoying gnat.

“I suppose that’s true,” he said, and his voice was a little weird when he added, “And now I do.”

“And now you do,” I repeated, feeling unsettled by the acknowledgment.

“So what do we have going on the rest of the day?” I blurted, trying to reset the tone of the morning. “I think you said something about a brunch, but I couldn’t find anything online about a shareholder breakfast.”

“Well that’s because this is not for everyone,” he said, shifting to boost me higher on his back. “Also, you need to stop talking. Concentrate on those deep breaths and we can talk after you sound better.”

I wanted to argue, but then I started coughing, which kind of proved his point.

I wasn’t sure if it was to shut me up, but he started explaining the event.

“There is a brunch for a select group of investors at Monk Aviation, a private send-off to the shareholders who are leaving in their private planes. Everyone socializes in the hangar, Warren says a few words, and then everyone boards their planes and the weekend is over.”

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