Page 101 of Wildest Dreams

“…yes. And then she took a nap in the tub!” Gravity snorted, covering her pink strawberry mouth with her chubby fist. “Silly Mommy! I had to wake her up.”

The person on the other end of the line was talking. I was anxious it was Tucker. And I was even more anxious he was going to say something idiotic, as he did so often.

“Now? Now she is being sleepy on the floor!” Gravity was at the bathroom door, still pressing the phone—which looked so big in comparison to her—to her ear. “I think she needs a grown-up. Yes, I can give her to you.” She passed me the phone. “It’s Uncle Rhyrand,” she whispered.

Horrified, I put the phone on speaker, too exhausted to hold it. “Hi,” I groaned.

“What’s this shit I’m hearing about you fucking dying and not calling me to come help?” he demanded, enraged.

Okey-dokey, no speaker next time.

“Are you dying?” Gravity cried out in horror. “Mommy, is that true?”

“No,” I whimpered. “No, honey, it’s a figure of speech. Tell her, Rhy.”

“No, little stinker, Mommy isn’t dying. I was being dramatic.” Pause. “But Uncle Rhyland wants to kill her for being so stubborn. I’m on my way now.”

I heard the steady flow of busy conversation and mic announcements in the background and remembered he was at an important work thing.

“Don’t,” I protested desperately. “I’m feeling better. I’m going to take more Tylenol right now.”

“No offense, Cosmos, but your stubbornly self-reliant ass is the reason I have trust issues.”

“Rude.” I tried to laugh, and my ribs screamed with pain.

“Just hang in there. I’m on my way.”

“Rhy, your conference…”

I’d already interfered in his life so much with all the babysitting, I didn’t want to be the reason he lost out on business opportunities too.

“Boring as shit,” he completed for me. “Plus, the booth is manned by two engineers and a PR guru I hired to mesmerize the crowd. They’re working their charm. There’s a twenty-person line waiting to see us.”

“Oh wow,” I whimpered. “That’s amazing.”

It didn’t escape me that both Tucker and Rhyland needed money. But whereas Rhyland spent every penny he didn’t have on paying me a salary for a made-up job so I could take care of my child (when he’d paid for a vasectomy as a teen), Tucker was constantly begging me to hook him up with Row so he could make a quick buck or borrow one. Tucker was also burning through his money in get-rich-quick schemes, I suspected, because he tended to receive upsetting texts that ruined his mood whenever I was around. The difference was staggering.

“So I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Hang in there.”

Thirty minutes later, Rhyland was feeding me wontons and chicken soup on my couch. He propped some pillows up so I could sit down comfortably, blowing gently on the spoonful of soup before bringing it to my lips.

Gravity sat in the breakfast nook across from us, enjoying a bento box from the same takeout place, with fries, teriyaki chicken, and fruit. We hadn’t eaten all day. I was so grateful I was close to tears.

“Motrin kicked in yet?” Rhy blew on my soup before guiding it to my mouth again.

I nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“You need to alternate between Motrin and Tylenol for best results. The doctor should be here any minute.”

“Rhy, I’m so sorry—”

“Please shut up.” He looked a little pissed off, and I wondered if it was because of the conference or because I was mortifyingly embarrassed about him being here. “If I were in the same condition, I’d expect you to drop literally everything and wipe my ass.”

“Why? We don’t have that kind of relationship.” I blinked lethargically.

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