Page 16 of I Need It

“Baby, you don’t owe me an apology. I owe you one. I shouldn’t have left you up here by yourself.”

He set a bag on the couch and came to my bedside to kiss my forehead. He rested his forehead against mine for a moment, and that was when I realized just how nervous he was. “Daddy, you don’t owe me an apology. I’ve been fine. I told you to leave and to go relax at my place.”

“I shouldn’t have listened to your stubborn ass though.”

He sat on the couch and pulled out snacks he’d brought for me. When I saw the Wheat Thins, I nearly had a fit. I loved the hell out of those crackers. I could literally eat an entire box in one sitting. Between them and Doritos, I was a lost cause. I wouldn’t even eat food if I stayed stocked up on those. It was safe to say I loved them, real bad.

There was a knock on the door, distracting me from my snacks, and then they entered. I was pretty sure it was the doctor or a nurse. When they came around the wall, I saw it was the doctor. “Good morning, Miss Ceasar. I’m Doctor Patel. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Okay. Just a little confused.”

“I can understand. So yesterday… you had a sudden fever. We originally thought there was an infection of some kind, but your bloodwork and urine showed nothing of the sort. I truly believe that your stress levels may have caused this. It’s called a psychogenic fever because psychological issues have caused it. Have you been under stress frequently… before the loss of the baby?”

“Yes. I was stressed the moment the baby was conceived because of the way it happened. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. So probably for the past two months or so.”

“What about before that? Everything pretty normal?”

I glanced at my daddy, and the doctor apologized. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t ask if it was okay to speak in front of your guest.”

“It’s okay. That’s my daddy. I just don’t want him to be worried about me. He tends to do that anyway, but I don’t want him to go overboard trying to help me with something he can’t help me with.”

I cleared my throat as my dad stood from his seat and approached my bed. He grabbed my hand. “Mya, it’s my job to worry and be concerned about you. I love you, and you’re all I have left.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “Honestly, ever since my mom died over ten years ago… it’s like I’ve been searching for something or someone to replace her… replace her love. I miss the hell out of her. The couple of failed relationships didn’t help. Then on top of all that, I work for myself, and I probably put a lot of pressure on myself to write the next book, topping the last one in performance.”

“Yes. That’s a lot. I would really like to refer you to a psychiatrist that could possibly help you through your thoughts. Did you go to grief counseling after she passed?”

“Yes. For like a year or so.”

“Okay. Well, other than that, you are doing great. You may have had a slight reaction to the Dilaudid as well. Well… not a reaction, but it made you sleep a lot more than the normal reactions to people who take the medication. Have you been sleeping well?”

I shook my head. “Well, it probably helped you to crash then. That’s probably why you slept so long. The nurse charted that you woke up to eat a little of your dinner, but when she came back to check on you, you were asleep with the fork still in your hand.”

I smiled slightly, and my dad seemed relieved that I was physically okay. “Okay, Miss Ceasar. We are going to be discharging you today. The nurse is drawing up the discharge papers as we speak. I saw that you lived in Houston. Did you want me to refer you to a psychiatrist there?”

“No, sir. I can have my PCP do that.”

“Okay. Please be sure to do so. I truly believe talking to someone can help you navigate through what you’re feeling.”

“Yes, sir.”

He shook my hand then my dad’s and left my room. However, my nerves heightened when I saw Christian standing there. My dad frowned as he stared at him. Christian nodded and extended his hand to my dad for a handshake. “Christian Henderson, sir.”

My dad shook his hand and nodded. “Andre Ceasar, Mya’s father.”

Christian nodded and turned his attention to me. “Hey. You good?”

I nodded and smiled. “I’m going home today.”

Suddenly, memories of kissing his soft lips flooded my memory. My face heated up, and apparently, I’d turned red, because my dad said, “Mya, you okay?”

“Yes, sir. Just embarrassment flooding my mind as some things come to memory.”

My dad frowned then looked up at Christian. Christian gave nothing away by his facial expression, but I could tell by the way he stared at me that he knew exactly what I was talking about.

“Wait! You aren’t the guy that?—”

“No, Daddy, he’s not. I met him here. He was here for the birth of his nephew, and I was walking.”

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