Page 38 of More Than an Ex-Girlfriend

“Crap. I didn’t even think to call anyone.” He reaches under his pillow and yanks out his phone. “I’ll respond to all these messages after I eat.”

“And Beau said he has the chores handled and that you need to keep your germs at home.”

Shoveling food into his mouth, he nods. “Yeah. This is kinda awful. My head hurts and—” He pushes the tray toward me, then jumps out of bed.

The noises coming from the bathroom make it clear that breakfast was a bad choice.

I shoot off a text to Lilith.

Me:He could probably use some Gatorade or Powerade.

Lilith:Ava bought a few cases yesterday. I’ll have someone take some over.

Me:Thanks. You can just leave it on the porch.

Kneeling beside him, I rub his back while he empties his stomach.

I grab a clean rag and wipe his forehead. “I should’ve had better sense than to give you a full breakfast.”

“It tasted good going down.” Resting back on his heels, he leans against me. “I’m glad you’re my neighbor.”

“Me too.” I help him to his feet, then step out of the bathroom while he spends a moment of quality time with his toothbrush.

He groans as he crawls back in bed, then chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” I smooth his blankets.

“Hi, neighbor.” He pats his chest. “I would sound more convincing if I had a sweater. One with a zipper on the front.”

And now the Mr. Rogers theme song is playing in my head.

“You are really funny when you’re sick.”

“I think funny stuff all the time. I just don’t say it out loud to most people.” He touches my face. “But I used to say stuff to you all the time.”

“You did. And I love that you’re doing it now.”

There’s a knock at the door, and this stubborn man swings a leg out of the bed.

“Unless you are running to the bathroom, don’t get up.” I push on his chest. “I’ll get it.”

He grabs the hem of my shirt. “But it could be your mom.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to me. But I’m not changing my mind. “Lilith was sending someone to drop off sports drinks. To keep you hydrated.”

“Okay.” Instead of getting back under the covers, he stands. “But I’ll walk with you just in case.”

His eyes aren’t as glassy as they were earlier, and there’s sweat beading on his forehead. It didn’t take the medicine long to break that fever.

“I don’t deserve you, Archer.”

He drapes an arm around me as we walk to the door. “You know, that could be a compliment or an insult. Is it because I’m too good or too bad? And is being too anything a good thing?”

He’s cracking me up.

I steady him against the wall and step outside to pick up the drinks. “All clear.”

“Good. I’m going back to bed.” He takes a few steps, then changes course. “After I puke some more.”

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