Page 56 of Business or Pleasure

I must be knocking so loudly that I don’t hear anyone come to the door, and when it gives beneath me, I stumble forward. It takes a few moments for me to regain my balance as I bring my eyes up to his.

And there he is, face half-hidden by the comforter he’s draped around himself like some kind of sad wizard.

“Just need a few more minutes,” he rasps out before turning around and plodding back to the bed. The room is a mess, his suitcases spilling over in the middle of it.

“Oh—you’re sick,” I say quietly.

“I’m fine. Like I said, I just need a few more minutes.” At that, he lets out a full-body shiver. “Is it cold in here, or is it just me?”

A laugh gets stuck in my throat because he is very much not fine. “Yeah, no. We’re going to cancel. You should get some rest.”

He glances back at me, hair askew, face ashen. He really does look miserable. Stars: they’re just like us! “But all those people... they’re counting on me. I made a commitment.”

“They’ll understand,” I say. “These things happen. Don’t tell me you’ve never taken a sick day before.”

The way he looks at me, I wonder if maybe he really hasn’t. He and Noemie have that in common.

“Get back in bed.” I gesture to the tangle of sheets. “I’ll let the con know.”

I swipe the key card on the nightstand before stepping into the hall to message Joe and call our Rocky Mountain contact, telling them that Finn sends his apologies but he’s too sick to attend today. Once I’m done, I let myself back into Finn’s room.

“Hey,” I say, approaching the bed. “It’s all taken care of. Is there anything I can get you? What are your symptoms?”

“Mmmf,” he says, clutching the comforter tighter around himself. “Everything. Hurts.”

“Might be the flu. I’ll go downstairs and grab some things, okay?”

Finn opens his mouth as though to object, but must realize it’ll take too much energy and decides not to. “If you must.”

A half hour and $50 later, I unpack my haul on the desk in Finn’s room.

“Did you rob the hotel?” he asks.

I open up a box of meds, unscrew the cap from a bottle of water. Tip in a neon packet of Emergen-C. “The sooner you’re better, the sooner we can get back to work. That thing you’re so upset to miss.”

“Right.” He takes the medicine from me and swallows it down with another little twitch. “You should probably go,” he says. “Sightsee. I don’t want to get you sick.”

I wave this off. “I have a strong immune system. Besides, we’ve been in such close proximity that if it’s going to happen, you’ve probably already infected me.” I’m not sure if this is scientifically true, but it sounds like it is, and it’s enough to make Finn stop protesting.

Because the thing is, the thought of leaving him alone in here while I explored Denver never once occurred to me.

“If you’re sure... then I guess I wouldn’t hate the company. Thank you.” It’s almost cute, the way he resigns himself to this—a forced kind of resignation, as though he was hoping I wouldn’t leave. “We could at least work on the book, or—”

I let out a laugh-groan. Two days ago I started drafting, playing back our recorded conversations to find the rhythm of his voice. I’m not sure I’m there yet, so spending more time with him can only be a good thing. For the book. “Finn. No. You’re taking a sick day, and that’s final. Can’t you just watch some mindless TV like the rest of us?”

“You pick,” he says as I grab the remote and flick it on. “I’m too disillusioned to mindlessly enjoy TV these days.”

“Well... I’ve been watching this show about werewolves.”

A groan. “What episode?”

“Just got to the season one finale.”

He’s quiet for a moment. And then: “That’s a really good episode.”

“We’re watching it. But I fully expect behind-the-scenes commentary.”

I eye the empty space on the bed next to him, and then the armchair across the room. I could drag it over, or—

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