“Cherry?”
Nicky, calling my name from the other side of the door, somewhat answers that question. When I’d last seen him, he was gearing up for the race, and now he’s here. Standing outside my hotel door.
“Seriously, Cherry. I need to know you’re alright.”
His voice has an edge to it and it spurs me into action. “Coming.”
I swing my feet onto the floor, shivering as the cool air around me touches my sweat-covered skin. Looks like my fever is still alive and kicking.
I open the door and hang on to the frame to keep upright. “Hey.”
“Cherry, sweetheart,” he breathes, his eyes creasing with concern. “You look horrible.”
I’m too sick to take offence, but I file it away for later. For those moments when I’m lying in bed searching for something to feel mortified about.
“I’m fine.” My teeth chatter and I hold my jaw tight to stop them.
He fixes me with a withering stare. “You. Are. Not. Fine.”
I sneeze and hold my sore ribs, feeling very sorry for myself. “Don’t yell at me.”
Tears sting my eyes and his whole demeanour softens. “Come here.” He pulls me into his arms and I collapse against him. He’s so warm andso solid.
“Let’s get you back to bed.”
He swings me up into his arms and carries me into the room. “On second thought,” his nose crinkles as he looks around. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll tidy up in here.”
A shower sounds both amazing and exhausting, and I’m too weak to argue either way.
“Okay.”
He helps me to the ensuite bathroom, pausing at the door to run his hand over my tangled hair. “If you need me, call out for me.”
Ah. That’s nice.
“Okay.”
I close the bathroom door and sit on the toilet lid to gather enough energy to get naked and in the shower. Through the door, I hear Nicky on the phone, asking for the bed linen to be changed and for some soup to be brought up.
Huh. Soup?My stomach doesn’t hate the thought of it.
Shower first. Then soup.
“How are you doing in there?”
I nod.
“Cherry? Are you okay?”
“Ah, yes. I’m good.”
He grumbles about me being far from good and my lips twitch. Using my last bit of energy, I get in the shower and wash away the grime and sweat and germs from my body before wrapping myself in the Egyptian cotton robe hanging on the back of the door. The shower has made me feel a little better, but realistically it’s like moving from death to death warmed up.
Nicky is standing with his hands on his hips, staring out of the window when I open the bathroom door, and he whips around to face me when he hears me.
“Hey, how are you feeling?”
I clutch my robe together and wobble out a smile. “A little better.”
