“I’ll pack a bag for Sienna while you get ready,” I offer, even though I already feel the energy draining from me. "You should eat something before you go."
“Youwill do no such thing.” He gently lifts me off my feet as if I weigh nothing at all and carries me toward the stairs. “I’m putting you back to bed and we’ll come say our goodbyes once we’re ready to head out.”
I want to grumble something back at him, but the energy I had when I woke up this morning is fading fast, so I just wrap my arms around his neck, rest my head on his shoulder, and enjoy the ride to his bedroom.
He’s tucking me back into his bed when Sienna decides to wake up.
She squeals as he lifts her from her crib. “Somebody’s feeling much better today,” he says, peppering her fat cheeks with kisses.
“Daddy’s not gonna be feeling too hot himself if he doesn’t stop getting up close and personal with his girls while they’re still germy,” I note, sinking further into the pillows and curlingup in his comforter. It smells like him and honestly, I could just live here from now on, thanks.
“I fear my impending doom is inevitable.” He props Sienna on his hip. She reaches for me, grunting as she tries to jerk herself out of his arms. “Quinny is sick, you little petri dish,” he tells her.
“Give her to me and go make a bottle. I’ll feed her while you shower. We can watch Oogie.” I take the remote from his nightstand and flick on the TV.
Jack goes through the motions of changing her and dressing her for the day before handing her over, he is seemingly feeling pretty normal but I can’t help but feel anxious for him knowing the emotions that are likely warring inside him right now. He is very good at masking how he feels when it comes to not wanting to burden me with extra worry, it seems.
Thankfully I don’t puke again.
A little over an hour later, Sienna is fed and thoroughly Oogied out. Jack has showered, dressed, and arranged for his mom to keep Sienna for the day. She was more than happy to have her back, especially since she hadn’t wanted us to take her in the first place, even with her being sick, but neither of us felt good about being away from her while she felt bad.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” Jack asks me for what feels like the millionth time.
“Positive,” I say, squeezing Sienna one last time before he snatches her up off the bed and places a chaste kiss on my forehead. “I’ll miss you both, though.”
“We’ll be back tonight, and I’ll text you updates.” He brushes his thumb along my cheek, hesitating like he can’t bear to leave me.
He really is everything. How did I get here?
“I’ll have necessities delivered,” he adds, sitting down on the edge of the bed to give me one last group hug. “Please make sure you try and eat something in a few hours.”
“I will.” I snuggle them both close and Sienna smacks a drooly kiss on my cheek at the same time Jack kisses my temple. “I love you two.” The words tumble out before I realize what I’m saying, and I want nothing more than the ability to shovel them back into my mouth and swallow them whole.
Idolove them, but it’s probably way too soon for me to be saying that to Jack.
He pulls back, seemingly shocked, and rightly so. Sienna is completely oblivious to the fact that I just made everything suuuuuper awkward.
Except, when he grasps my chin and runs his thumb along my jawline, staring at me like he’s trying to formulate an apt response, I realize that maybe I’mnotfully eating my shoe right now.
“We love you, too,” he says. “Ilove you.”
They’re gone for over an hour before I come down from the high of that admission, and only then it’s because the doorbell rings, jerking me out of my lovesick stupor.
28
DECOMPOSE WITH THE OTHER SKELETONS DOWN THERE
QUINN
I’m lesssick than I anticipated, but still feel like I have sludge in my veins when I drag myself downstairs to answer the door.
I’m surprised to find Stu waiting on the other side. “Jack texted,” he frowns, looking me over and holding up a bag stuffed to the brim with various items. “I brought stomach virus necessities.”
I step out of the way and he slips by me, giving me a wide berth.
“Ugh, thank you. Just sit it on the island.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the closed door. I expect him to bolt, but he starts unloading the contents of the bag. “You don’t have to stick around, I’m not that sick.”
He waves me off and continues what he’s doing. “It’s fine. Have you tried to eat anything yet?” He shakes a container of what looks like egg drop soup, and I all but drool. Why is it the best thing ever for every illness?
