Page 98 of Bad For A Weekend

“Good.” It’s not a lie. I feel a million percent better than I did that first day.

“I brought you something that might make you feel better.” She nods to Dad, who backtracks to my door and flips the lock.

I narrow my eyes. “What did you do?”

“I brought you a friend.” She sets the backpack on my bed and unzips it. A gray and white face pops out, startling me for only a second.

“You brought Julien?” I squeal and pull my soft cat out of the bag. He purrs and rubs his cheek against mine as I murmur words of love.

“We thought he’d cheer you up,” Brandy says, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You were right.” Julien inspects the bed and the IV coming out of my hand before circling on my lap and cuddling in.

“We can’t stay long; your little stowaway isn’t allowed to be here.” Brandy strokes down Julien’s back.

“I’m happy I even get a second with him.” I look to Dad. “I guess this means I’m not going home today?”

He sighs. “No, you spiked a fever last night, and they’re worried about infection.”

“I think I would know if I had an infection.” I spread my arms wide, only feeling a twinge from my belly. “See? I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, Baylor. As long as you don’t get worse over the next forty-eight hours, you can go home then.”

“Two more days?” My high-pitched whine causes Julien’s head to pop up. I scratch his ears until he settles back in.

“You’re in the home stretch now.”

“Whatever.” I lean back into my pillows, turning my attention back to the window. I know I’m being a brat, but I just want to move on. I can’t do that when I’m in the hospital being studied like a lab rat.

“I have some good news, though,” Dad says, but I don’t respond. “Owen asked to come by this afternoon. I have some stuff to do for the production company, so I told him he could sit with you while I’m gone.”

This is the one thing he could say that I’d accept as actual good news.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you can finally thank him in person.”

I may have stressed that as the reason I wanted to see him, but I felt that was easier to digest than the truth.

“You’re right. That is good news.”

“He said he couldn’t stay long.” Brandy studies me for a reaction, like she knows something I don’t. Curious.

“That’s fine.”

My mind instantly makes a list of things I need to do before this afternoon. A shower is the first. I’m not proud of the fact that my hygiene has gone by the wayside.

Dad changes the conversation, and I follow along, waiting the appropriate number of minutes to ask for help. Too soon, and they’ll both wonder why I have a sudden urge to look presentable.

“Did Ziggy text you?” he asks.

“Yeah, he sent me a few pictures from Paris.”

“He was so sad to leave you.” Brandy rests a hand on my calf.

Ziggy’s mom surprised him with a trip, set to leave three days after graduation. He didn’t want to leave, but by then, I was stable, so I told him to go. Bette promised him they’d fly right back if anything happened, so he reluctantly agreed.

“Hey Brandy, do you think you could help me shower and make some sense of this hair?” I tug on the tangled bun on top of my head.

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