Page 53 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
A short while later, there’s a knock at the door. I groan and pull a pillow over my head. “No housekeeping,” I call out when the knocking continues. My head feels like it’s been split in two. I knew the clubbing was a bad idea.
“It’s Hart,” a deep voice calls.
My eyes snap open. With a great amount of effort, I rise from the bed and pull the hotel robe on over my pajama shorts and camisole.
“Alessia?” He knocks again. “It’s Hart. Can you let me in?”
I release a slow sigh. This isn’t exactly how I want him to see me right now, with undereye circles and tangled hair. But I unlatch the security lock and open the door. “Hi,” I grumble, voice coming out in a weird croak. I clear my throat.
“Hi,” he returns, giving me a sympathetic look. “Your assistant called me. She said you were sick.”
My scalp tingles. Joslyn called him? That was crossing some sort of line, wasn’t it? Even in my cloudy-headed state, I knew that it was.
I only mentioned to her in passing that we’d hung out a couple of times. “She shouldn’t have called you,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She said I was the only person she could think to call in New York.”
“What if I’m contagious?”
He cocks his head, watching me. “What are your symptoms?”
My throat feels like I swallowed razor blades, and my lymph nodes are swollen. I have a massive headache and sore muscles. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a subway train,” I grumble.
He takes my shoulders and steers me to the sofa, letting the door fall closed behind us. “I’ll risk it. Take a seat—let me get you some water.”
From a bag I didn’t realize he was carrying, he removes a bottle of Tylenol and a liter of water. He places two capsules in my palmand unscrews the top of the water. “Here,” he says soothingly, “this should help.”
Swallowing the pills seems more difficult than it should be, but apparently my throat is quite swollen.
“I brought you soup and orange juice and whatever this is.” He holds up a bottle of pink liquid that I think is an electrolyte drink. Also from the bag come cough drops and a box of tissues—the extra-soft kind with lotion. His care and concern are unexpected. He must have dropped everything when Joslyn called and rushed out to pick all this up for me. It sends a rush of warmth skittering through my chest.
“Thank you,” I manage, finally swallowing both pills.
Hart recaps the water. “You’re very welcome. Do you want to try a little soup?”
I nod.
He unwraps the layers of cellophane from the container and pries off the lid. The scent of chicken broth greets me, and my stomach gives a weak growl.
With a plastic spoon, I take a few bites of the soup, which is still warm and very good, but even that tires me. “I’m not sure where I caught a bug,” I say, abandoning the soup on the coffee table.
“You’ve been working too hard,” he says, bringing a hand to my forehead. “You’re burning up.”
My eyelids droop, and I lean into his hand, which feels cool against my overheated skin.
“Let’s get you back into bed.” Hart rises to his feet and scoops me up from the couch. Carrying me to the bed, he sets me down on top of the duvet with so much tenderness that my insides flutter. I’ve never been taken care of this way.
“Tonight is my grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary,” he says, fluffing my pillows and tucking the blankets in around me. I told him in the Hamptons I’d meet him after the party. Obviously that’s not happening now.
“Have fun,” I say, eyes dropping closed as I snuggle into the pillow.
“Get some rest. I’ll call you later.” I feel his lips at my temple just as I’m falling asleep.
After twenty-four hours I feel like a new person.
I responded to a text from Hart telling him as much, and he dropped a pin sharing his location.
Hart:If you’re up for hanging out.
