Page 92 of Before This Ends (Before)

“That’s normally the way it goes.” He looks over at me. “So don’t be surprised if after she’s had a shower and taken some Tylenol, she’s running around like a maniac again.”

“I’ve never been around Kingston when he was sick before,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around my middle. “How do you deal with it?”

“The first time she got sick was when she was just a few months old. It was after she got a round of shots at the doctor, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get her to settle. I took her to emergency, because she wouldn’t stop crying, and I refused to believe the doctor when he told me she was okay, that it was normal. It was the worst twelve hours of my life.” He shakes his head. “The next morning, it was like the night before hadn’t happened. She was all giggles and grins. Meanwhile, I was absolutely exhausted from staying up all night watching over her.” He shoots me a soft smile. “I’m not saying I don’t worry when she’s sick; I’ve just learned that she will be okay.” He steps toward me. “She’s fine. At worst, it’s just the flu. It’s not the first time she’s had it, and it won’t be the last.”

“Okay,” I whisper, and he leans down, touching his lips softly to mine.

“When she gets out, we can put on a movie and hang on the couch.”

I glance to the bathroom door. “I’m gonna go change and take Dolly outside really quick before she gets out.”

“All right, baby.” He drops another kiss to my lips.

Going to the bedroom, I take off the heels along with the jeans I wore to work today and put on a pair of sweats. I leave on my tank and my sweater but tie up my hair before I go to the laundry room to get Dolly to take her to potty. By the time she and I get back upstairs, Winter is lying down on the couch, and Dolly, who has missed her girl all day, immediately jumps up to join her.

“Do you feel a little better after your shower?” I ask, squatting down next to her and brushing her damp hair back away from her face. She’s still warm but not as warm as she was.

“A little,” she mumbles.

“This will help.” I glance up at Miles to find him holding a cap full of red liquid that must be Tylenol toward me.

I help her sit up and take it, then pass the empty cap back to her dad.

“Will you lay with me?” she asks.

“Of course.” I adjust her little body on the couch and curl myself around her. Miles turns on one of her favorite movies, so as it plays on the TV, I smooth my hand across her forehead. Before long, the fever she seemed to have had is gone, and she’s once again cool to the touch. She’s also sound asleep, judging by her quiet snore.

I look up at Miles, who joined us not long after he changed into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and positioned himself so that both of our heads were pressed up against him. When his gaze connects with mine, I ask softly, “Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

His face gets soft like it does every time I ask that question, which is one of the reasons I continue to do it. Even when he hardly ever gives me an answer that means much. Or maybe they all mean something because they teach me little things about him. His gaze pings between Winter and me.

“I want two more kids,” he replies, and my heart beats funny. I wasn’t expecting that. “You?”

I glance down at Winter. I would be happy with just this, with just him and her. That deep-engrained urge to have a husband and kids has settled—probably because I’ve gotten it in a way. Even if I’m not Winter’s mom or his wife, I’m content and maybe even a little scared to want more when I already feel like I have so much.

“I think two more would be nice.”

He doesn’t reply with words; he just kisses the side of my head. I curl my arm around Winter and rest my head against his side once more. With the lights dim and the fireplace on, my eyelids start to feel heavy as the movie plays softly, and just when I’m sure I might fall asleep, there is a knock on the door.

“I got it,” Miles murmurs, then he gets up and tucks a pillow under my head before he walks around the arm of the couch.

A moment later, I hear the door open, and Dayton ask, “How’s she feeling?”

“Her fever broke,” Miles tells him, and I tip my head back to watch the two of them walk to the island, Dayton with two shopping bags in tow. Miles must have sent him a text at some point to let him know what was going on with Winter.

“I brought Gatorade and soup.” His eyes come to me. “I’m sure the soup is not as good as what you’d make, but it should do the trick.”

“Thank you.” I smile. Since he’s been in town, I’ve gotten to know him a little better, and even if he doesn’t want kids or a wife, he’s an amazing uncle and brother. Miles loves having him around, and I feel the same when he’s here in the evening, helping Winter with her homework or just hanging out with Miles at the island while I cook.

When my stomach growls, reminding me I didn’t eat lunch, I carefully maneuver myself off the couch, making sure to not wake Winter, then wander toward the kitchen, stopping when there’s another knock at the door.

“I got it,” I tell Miles when he starts to move away from where he’s standing with Dayton.

Opening the door, I smile at Clay.

“Hey, how’s our girl?” He bends down to kiss my cheek.

“She’s asleep, and her fever broke.”

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