Page 77 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
I search the walk-in closet and spy the bathroom door closed. I knock on it. “Wyatt?”
“Yeah?”
“Oh. Just checking.”
“I’m good. Be out in a minute.”
I edge away. “Okay. Hubert’s coming in with the painkillers.”
“Thanks, Joze.”
Backtracking through the closet, I find Hubert placing a glass of water and a small dish, with two half-blue, half-white pills, on the nightstand. He then turns down the bed, turns the lamps on a low setting, and draws the curtains closed.
“Anything else, Miss Bartlett?”
I shake my head, clutching my elbows. “No, that’s amazing. Thanks.”
Hubert nods, making his way to the doorway.
“Oh, if Wyatt needs anything else...”
Hubert cuts me off, gesturing to an intercom on the wall. “Just call for me, and I’ll be at your service.”
Still jittery, I push for a smile. “Thank you.”
Hubert leaves the room and I sit on the edge of the bed. My foot bounces and my fingers tap against my knees. I keep my gaze fixed on the closet entrance and listen hard for noises from the bathroom. I’m well aware Wyatt was taking himself to the bathroom when in the clinic, but I still have this sinking feeling something could go wrong. My stomach churns at the thought of him tripping or collapsing.
Before I go into full meltdown, he makes his way back into the bedroom, walking cane in hand.
He notices my overzealous grin, and looks down at the cane. “Yes, I’m being a good boy.”
I giggle, standing to give him space to make it to the bed. “Savanna would be proud.”
“I didn’t want you to fr-freak out about me.”
“Me? Freak out?”
He side-eyes me. “With Mr. Skeptical as a dad, and Mrs. Nervous as a mom, umm, yeah, you’re known to freak out.”
“I just like to make sure everyone’s safe.”
He smiles and slides under the covers. “That’s what makes you amazing, Josie.”
I hand him the glass of water and two pills. He takes them with an unsteady hand, and I’m quick to take them back when he’s finished.
“Good?”
He nods after swallowing.
“Excellent.” I round the bed, slipping under the covers beside him.
He snuggles close to me, draping an arm around my waist. “I want to say something.”
“You can say anything.”
“Well, no I can’t.” His brow furrows. “I should say it, but I don’tknow what it means.”
“Wyatt, you’re not making sense.”
