Page 97 of Sexted By Santa
I rifled through the papers until I found what I wanted. And there it was, a list of Tori’s insulin meds, along with medicines safe to address other symptoms. Tylenol was on the list, and the dosage was beside it. Her doctor’s office was also listed.
With Christmas coming up, maybe it’d be good to get her in. I’d rather talk to Jaxson first, but it was already late in the day. I dialed the number, and a voicemail picked up after the first ring. “You’ve reached Dr. Calhoun’s office. We’re closed for the Christmas holidays and will reopen at 8 a.m. December 27th. If this is an emergency, call—”
I hung up. Tori might not be feeling great, but some mild flu symptoms didn’t qualify as an emergency. I’d give her the Tylenol and hopefully it would help with her symptoms, along with some rest. It was rotten that Tori would have to be sick over the holiday, though. I knew how much she loved Christmas.
Tori was nearly asleep when I returned to her room. I hated to disturb her, but she’d feel better if we could knock down the fever, so I got her to sit up and take the medicine.
“I’m sorry,” Tori said, voice trembling as she settled back onto her pillows. “I didn’t want to be sick at Christmastime or worry Daddy or anything.”
“Aw, hon, it’s okay.” I smoothed her hair back. “You can’t help it if you picked up a bug. It happens. Just rest, and maybe you’ll feel better by the time your dad gets home, okay?”
“Okay.”
I left the door open, glancing back to see she was already drifting off to sleep. Poor thing. She must have been exhausted.
I fired off one more text to Jaxson to let him know I’d given Tori some Tylenol, then headed to the kitchen. I set my phone nearby, where I’d hear it when he texted back, and started working on dinner. It would take longer to prepare without my sous chef, but hopefully the nap would do her good, and she’d be feeling up to eating. Skipping a meal would probably complicate managing her blood sugar. I shook my head again, still in awe of the both of them for handling such a challenging disease.
I peeled and cut up potatoes, then put them on the stove to boil while I sliced apples. Tori had helped me pick out the meal to make for Jaxson: baked pork chops with apple chutney, mashed potatoes, salad, and bread rolls.
My cooking tended toward the functional, rather than the impressive. The truth was, I dined out far too often. When I was with Fynn, he’d preferred it. And since he’d left, it’d been tough to motivate myself to cook for just me. But this meal, while a bit more complicated than omelets, still seemed straightforward enough.
I already felt comfortable in Jaxson’s kitchen, which gave me so many warm fuzzy feelings. Sir Elton John emerged from Tori’s room to roam the kitchen floor, eyes alert for food droppings, also comfortable in my boyfriend’s home. It was strange, because my house was the larger of the two and ostensibly nicer, but I liked that we spent most of our time here. It was filled to the brim with the feeling of family. Photos of Tori at different ages hung on the living room wall, while colorful drawings she’d made covered the refrigerator, held in place with little sunflower and butterfly magnets. One of the photos we’d taken at Winter Fest—the one including all three of us—was there too, making my heart swell every time I needed to get into the refrigerator.
Once Jaxson and I realized that Tori knew we were dating, we’d both stopped holding back. I’d spent every night here, and Sir Elton John had taken to sleeping with Tori. His collection of toys had migrated over here too, though I’d held off on bringing much more of my own other than my toothbrush and shaving kit. My clothes were right next door, so it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience to run home to change. But I hoped one day soon we’d all call one house home—and if I had a choice in the matter, I’d choose this one.
Sir Elton John wandered off in disappointment when no food magically fell into his waiting paws. After a while, I paused in dinner prep, setting aside the potatoes I’d been mashing in a mixing bowl, to look in on Tori.
She was sleeping peacefully. While in her room, my phone chimed with a text. Jaxson had replied.
Just saw your text. How is Tori’s glucose level? Sometimes, a high or low can give her symptoms similar to another illness.
Fine the last time we checked.
Hmm. Okay. When was that?
She checked her monitor less than an hour ago,I replied.I didn’t see the numbers myself, but she knows how to read it.
I’d checked Tori’s glucose monitor before lunch and then again when we’d arrived at Aunt Henry’s about 12:30 p.m. Tori’s numbers had been on the high side of the acceptable range despite not finishing her lunch.
I’d encouraged her to have a snack with us around 2:30 p.m. to be safe, and she’d managed her insulin and checked her glucose monitor that time, and then once more before we left when I thought she seemed a little off. She’d reported that everything was fine.
She seemed peaceful enough, for the moment, though her breathing was loud in the room. I reached down to touch her forehead. She was clammy, so the Tylenol may have broken her fever.
Jaxson called me, my phone jangling loudly in the room. I answered it quickly, hoping not to wake Tori.
“Hey, she’s sleeping,” I said in a loud whisper. “I just walked in to check on her.”
“Do me a favor. Just do a quick scan of her glucose monitor to see the numbers for yourself. You don’t have to wake her.”
“Okay.”
“I’m probably being paranoid, but I want to make sure none of her symptoms are related to her blood sugar. If she does have the flu, it could impact her glucose.”
“Oh.” That hadn’t even occurred to me. Itshouldhave. The body’s systems were all so interconnected. “Tori said they weren’t low, but I’ll check again.”
“Thanks.”
Maybe Jaxson’s paranoia was catching, because I felt a sense of foreboding when Tori didn’t so much as stir when I settled on the edge of the bed and lifted her sweater to see the glucose monitor. Using the reader device, I scanned it and checked the numbers.
