Page 136 of The Overtime Kiss

“I heard you’re not feeling so hot,” I say, rounding the corner. I just called Sabrina for the update—it’s a flu-like bug that’s going around, she told me. Some of the other kids at school have it.

“Actually, Iama little bit hot,” Parker says, then forces out a laugh at his own joke. I manage a small smile, relieved he’s retained his sense of humor. “I’m one hundred two.”

“That’s no fun. I wish I were there,” I say, and my heart hurts since it’s eight hundred miles away from here in San Francisco, with my little boy.

“Me too,” he says, then coughs, before saying in a softer voice, “Sorry, Sabrina.”

“It’s okay. Coughing is fine,” she replies, her voice easy tohear. She must be right next to him on the couch. And my heart squeezes a little more, knowing she’s there with him.

“But we get to watchSpace Dogs,” Parker tells me, managing to sound a little upbeat. “Sabrina found it from YouTube, and it’s funny, and the science mostly makes sense, so it’s not that bad. Also, I want to talk to you about the science of Santa sometime soon,” he says, but his voice fades and he coughs again. “But not right now. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too,” I say, my chest hurting, full of longing and the wish to be there and take care of him.

A few seconds later, there’s a rustling on the phone, then Sabrina’s voice. “Hey, it looks like he’s going to snuggle up under a blanket for a nap,” she says, then pauses. “Wait. Spoke too soon. Be right back.”

I stare at the phone and the line that went dead. My pulse spikes and panic grips me, hard and cold. I pace down the hall, then tap out a quick text to Sabrina—What’s going on?—but before I can send it, my phone rings. This time it’s Luna. I swipe it so fast. “What’s going on?”

“Dad, it’s me. I’m upstairs. Like, literally at the top of the stairs and I’m watching them downstairs. But don’t worry, I have a mask on because I really don’t want to get sick, because I don’t want to miss Secret Santa, and Sabrina already helped take me shopping for Secret Santa,” she says, and I want to sayspeed it up, but I don’t want to be rude. “But anyway, she just called up to me and said Parker is barfing but don’t worry. He’s almost done barfing.”

“Shoot,” I mutter, feeling utterly helpless.

“I’ve got a view of the bathroom door from here, Dad,” she says, then like a play-by-play announcer, she narrates what’s happening downstairs. “Oh my god, Sabrina is so strong. She’s carrying him across the hallway and back to the living room.”

My throat tightens with emotions as I picture her takingcare of my little guy. “Tell Sabrina to call when she can,” I say gently. “I love you, Luna.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

A little later, as I’m walking back to the hotel in the rain, every cell in my body on high alert, my phone rings once more. It’s Sabrina, and I answer it immediately. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“He’s okay. I think he feels better now that he’s thrown up a little bit. He’s actually curled up under a blanket on the couch right next to me, sound asleep. Oh, and Drama is right here with him too. She’s purring on his neck. It’s okay that she’s here? In the house?”

“Of course,” I say instantly.

“She has to go back next week to Little Friends. For her final vaccine and then her spay. But for now, she’s being a little nurse kitten,” Sabrina says, cheery and chipper, like she’s trying to make me feel better about Parker being sick.

“Does he need to go see a doctor? Does he need anything? Do you need anything? Some meds? Cough syrup? Dinner? I can send you all that right away. An appointment at the doctor?” I hope she says yes to something, anything.

“Actually, we went to urgent care when I picked him up from school. They had an appointment right away, and that’s when they said it’s probably a twenty-four-hour bug. I texted you as soon as we left urgent care.”

“Oh,” I say, stopping under the awning at the hotel. Parker’s the kind of kid who rarely gets sick, and on the odd occasions he has, I’ve always been around. I never felt more useless in my life. Or more grateful. “Thank you for doing that.”

“They said there’s really nothing to give him. It’s just a virus, but it tends to run its course pretty quickly,” she says.

“Can I get you something? Something for dinner? I don’twant you to think about cooking or even zapping anything in the microwave right now.”

“I’m sure there’s some food in the house,” she says. In the background, a voice calls out, “Dad, I love those sandwiches from Happy Cow.”

I laugh.

Sabrina does too. “Luna won’t venture downstairs, but she sure doesn’t miss a thing,” she says with a laugh.

And it feels like we’re sharing a smile over the way we know my daughter so well.

I go ahead and I place an order for some sandwiches and some Gatorade, and then some crackers for when Parker is feeling better. I send a note along too—just for Sabrina.

I can’t tell you how much it means to me to know you’re there.

—T

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