Rowan was sprawled facedown into a pillow and in the middle of a REM cycle when it happened, so he went from a soothing dream about winning an award for creating the perfect organization system to replace Dewey to wondering why his leg was wet.
The room was dark except for the light cast by one of the motion-sensor night lights Jordy had scattered around the various outlets, ostensibly for Kaira but probably also so that any adult wandering around an unfamiliar house at night had a 90 percent chance of getting where they were going without stubbing their toe.
“Zzzt?” he said, blinking, and started to roll over.
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “Uh, Rowan, just—don’t move for a minute.”
Then Rowan registered the smell, and his brain helpfully filled him in on the sounds that had filtered into his sleeping brain just before he woke up.
“Kaira?” he asked hoarsely.
“Daddy, did I growl?” came Kaira’s voice.
The mattress shifted as Jordy got up. “No, peanut, you threw up. Let me just—” A soft exhale. “Okay, you’ve got a bit of a fever. Just give me one second here.”
The blankets at the foot of the bed grew heavier around Rowan’s legs as Jordy folded them around the pile of sick.
“You can get up now,” Jordy said. “Uh. If you want. Without the risk of getting more puke everywhere.”
Rowan sat up. “Well, I am definitely awake.” He wiped his hand over his eyes. “You take the bath, I’ll take the laundry?”
Jordy looked at the bedsheet and grimaced. At least they’d thrown off the coverlet last night. “I think these sheets are telling us something. Trash them, I have another set. And then maybe coffee?”
“Coffee,” Rowan agreed.
But he didn’t get up until Jordy carried Kaira out of the room toward the bath, because unlike Jordy, Rowan had been too lazy to put underwear back on before they went to sleep the night before.
Nowtherewas a mistake he wouldn’t make again.
By the time Jordy emerged from the bathroom with Kaira in a fresh pair of puke-free pajamas, Rowan had the coffee ready and breakfast going—plain oatmeal and pancakes with no chocolate chips. He didn’t know whether Kaira would have much of an appetite, but he and Jordy needed to eat, and they could add fruit to bland food.
And protein, in Jordy’s case, but Rowan had not had enough time to caffeinate to be thinking about protein.
“Here.” He nudged the bottle of Gatorade he’d unearthed from the pantry toward Jordy. Jordy only drank it cold, but there was only so much room in the fridge, and room temperature would be better on an upset stomach. “I couldn’t find a straw.”
“That’s what the sports caps are for.” Jordy broke the seal and passed the bottle to Kaira, who was curled up on the couch under a lurid red-and-green throw blanket that Rowan suspected had been bestowed on them by Jordy’s captain.“Drink some of that while I try to find a thermometer, okay, sweetheart?”
Oh boy. “Try to find?” Rowan echoed.
Jordy grimaced. “I didn’t think the first thing she was going to do when she got here was projectile vomit.”
And now here it was, Christmas Day, and Jordy without the necessary supplies.
“At least one pharmacy will be open,” Rowan pointed out. “You just have to figure out which one.” He pulled a notepad and pen off the fridge. “Thermometer, Pedialyte, Children’s Tylenol…?”
“Replacement Christmas?” Jordy said, wry but also defeated.
“No one’s immune to plane crud.” Rowan flipped a couple pancakes onto a plate. “Eat these, drink some coffee, and go play hunter-gathering hero. Kaira and I can be pathetic sad sacks without you. We have lots of practice.”
“I can’t believe I actually find that reassuring.” Jordy sighed and kissed Rowan’s cheek. “Love you.” He repeated his departure with Kaira, reassured her he’d be back as soon as he could, and then it was just Rowan and Kaira and a whole lot of germs.
It looked like Kaira had fallen asleep on the couch, so Rowan closed the Gatorade bottle and set it beside her, then spent ten minutes googling how to make a sick child comfortable. By the time Jordy returned, Kaira was still asleep and Rowan had raided the cupboards and decanted an entire array of sick-kid necessities—a big steel bowl for vomit, her favorite books, Piglet, a sleeve of plain crackers, and a handful of the sweet “fruit” flavored granny candies Jordy thought Rowan didn’t know he favored. The television remotes were all at hand, and he’d turned on the Christmas tree as well and set a pot of orange slices andcinnamon sticks simmering on the stove in case Kairadidthrow up again.
It should still smell like Christmas, at the very least.
Jordy opened his mouth as if to say something, but Rowan jerked his head at the couch, where Kaira had turned onto her side and was sleeping soundly, or as soundly as one could when one was a sick child.
“This is not how I wanted today to go,” Jordy sighed in a whisper as Rowan wrapped him in a hug.
