Page 32 of Reluctantly Married

“Sorry.” A demure look crossed his face. “Looks like they’re serving the ham now.”

They ate without further incident, his father going on about how good the potatoes were, and Megan asking questions about the facility. Adam watched the two of them interact, the way Megan smiled and treated his father like a real person. She didn’t talk down to him, like a child, or shout at him like he was deaf.

When it was time to leave, his father pulled Megan aside and whispered something in her ear. She blushed and gave him a hug. On the way to the car, he asked her what that was about.

“Your father seems to be stuck on the idea that we’re getting married. He wanted to be sure he was invited.”

Adam shook his head. “Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t be.” She tucked another curl of blonde hair behind her ear. “Your father just wants what’s best for you. I’m flattered he thinks I could make you happy.”

He stopped and took her hand. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

The look on her face told him she wasn’t expecting that at all. In fact, she didn’t look too happy he said it.

He back-tracked, and let go of her hand. “I mean, you were really good with him. You treated him like a human being. He doesn’t get that a lot.”

The concern left her face. “He’s special. I’m glad you introduced me.”

He sighed inwardly, glad he’d gotten past that blunder. “I wish I could afford to move him closer to me. There are better facilities in Omaha. Not so sterile. They make the living quarters look much more homey. They’re just too expensive.”

Megan threw him a sympathetic look. “How much do they cost?”

“Some of them are $4,000 a month.”

She sucked in a breath. “Wow.”

He hadn’t meant to bring the conversation down. In order to lighten the mood, he smiled. “You ready to go color eggs?”

12

Megan awoke on Monday withher head pounding like she’d fallen asleep on a jack hammer. Her throat screamed in agony with every breath. Moaning, she crawled out of bed and grabbed her robe. This was not a good start to her day.

Maybe if she got going, she’d feel better. She didn’t want to call in sick. Leon would pitch a fit. And who knew what would go on over there without her. She could only imagine.

She showered. The hot water did nothing for her chills. By the time she’d toweled off, she knew she couldn’t go into work. Hot and cold flashes assaulted her as she picked up the phone.

Leon didn’t sound too thrilled, but she didn’t care anymore. She hung up and crawled back into bed, grateful for the warmth of the blankets. With the covers up to her chin, she slipped into blessed unconsciousness.

She awoke several times, her blistering headache making the room spin. Once, she slipped from bed to get a glass of water, only to find herself waking up on the kitchen floor, her cheek pressed to the cool tile. She must have managed to get herself back into bed, because the next time she awoke she was kicking off the comforter, and her pillow was a sweaty mess beneath her head.

Strange dreams filled her mind, one where her cell phone kept ringing, even after she answered it. No matter how many times she touched the screen, it wouldn’t shut up. Finally, in desperation, she threw it on the floor and stomped on it. The tiny broken pieces still vibrated and continued to chime incessantly.

The next time she woke, the clock display read three fifteen in the afternoon, and her chest was on fire. She coughed, a deep hacking sound, which continued until she passed out again.

She had another annoying dream, only this time her door buzzer wouldn’t stop. She tried to press the button on the wall, but kept missing. Finally she was successful, and the buzzing ended, replaced by loud knocking. The doorknob wouldn’t turn for her. She yelled for whoever it was to go away, but the knocking continued.

Then her dream changed and Adam held her in his strong arms. He smelled clean and musky, and she buried her head in his chest.

“You’re burning up.” He stared down at her, concern showing in his beautiful eyes.

She reached up and touched his face. Stubble scratched at her palm, and his cool skin sent sparks through her fingertips. “You’re sexy,” she mumbled.

“We need to get you to a doctor.”

She shook her head, which was a bad idea. The pressure cooker behind her eyes threatened to blow. “No doctor.”

Then her dream changed again, and she found herself lying on her bed, a cool cloth on her forehead. Adam held a glass of water to her lips. “Here, take a sip.”

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