Page 20 of Damaged Enemy Next Door

"Oh, thank god," he groans, his hand on his chest. "She's upstairs. I tried to make her as comfortable as possible."

Without any argument, he leads me to his daughter’s bedroom.

CHAPTER 10

ADRIAN

Myheartisinmy throat as I lead Olivia to Emily's room. It feels like only yesterday when I created an emergency contact list for Emily on every phone in the house, and now, I am stuck with no working phones, a very sick daughter, and paralyzing fear. Here I am, banking on a woman, virtually a stranger to Emily, with the hope that with her help, I can make Emily better.

I hadn't realized how helpful it is to have Olivia here with me on this stormy night. She seems competent and unafraid — the kind of person you'd want at your back in a crisis situation. Taking a deep breath, I open the door to Emily's room - only to be met with her pitiful condition — pale skin, clammy forehead, and unconscious from fever.

Olivia walks over to Emily and places a gentle hand on her forehead, muttering soft words of comfort to her, brushing the damp hair off her forehead. She is now holding Emily's hand in her own as she checks Emily's temperature with a thermometer. I can't help but watch Olivia in admiration; her calm demeanor and gentle touch have a remarkable effect on Emily. Even in times like these, she still manages to be in control — a quality I've come to respect about her.

"Hi Emily," she says, sweetly. "I know you're really tired and frustrated, but I'm your daddy's friend and I come with a magic touch. You'll be okay, little dove. How are you feeling?"

Emily tries to nod and respond, but all she can do is cough. "No need to answer," says Olivia. "Don't you worry. Your daddy will tell me everything I need to know."

Olivia turns to me and asks, "Does Emily have any allergies?"

"A lot," I say.

She nods, swiftly. "That makes sense. Hurricanes are known to exacerbate allergies, especially with all that debris and dust flying around in the air. Can you bring me whatever anti-allergy pill you give her?"

I nod and rush to the medicine cabinet, finally feeling useful. Up until now from the moment Emily fell unwell, I had felt like I had failed as a father. At least now, I can act and deliver - the way a father must.

Olivia mixes the pill in a glass of water and hands it to Emily. "Drink this, finish up, and I promise I’ll get you a whole bowl of ice cream when you get better. I know it doesn't taste too good but think about that ice cream!"

I watch Olivia's movements, the way she handles Emily with such gentle ease, and I realize that I'm seeing a completely different side to her. It's as though the sassy, smart-mouthed woman I had met in the office has been completely erased, and all that's left is this caring, nurturing soul.

I watch as she starts to gather supplies from her bag and sets to work on bringing down Emily's fever. The way she moves is graceful, yet efficient. She's clearly done this before. For a moment, I catch myself admiring her skill and determination.

I clear my throat, the sound breaking the silence, "Do you need any help?"

Olivia looks up at me, a small smile on her lips, "I'm good, thank you. But if you could bring me a bowl of warm water and a cloth, that would be great."

"Sure," I murmur, turning to leave the room. As I make my way down to the kitchen, my thoughts drift to Olivia. As much as I try to resist the urge, I find myself wondering if the person she is now with Emily could ever be the kind of mother my daughter needs. As I return with the bowl and cloth, a renewed sense of gratitude fills my heart towards this woman who has stepped in with such kindness and surety. Olivia has no idea just how lost and petrified I was tonight.

After Olivia administers some fever-reducing medication, she helps me move Emily to my master suite where I can keep a closer eye on her health. As we settle into the room, I can't help but steal glances at Olivia.

The wet fabric of her white satin shorts clings to her, a gentle reminder of how cold she must be in her wet clothes. Olivia, on the other hand, shows no signs of discomfort; instead, she is solely focused on helping me care for Emily.

On that deeper note, a newfound beauty has emerged from within at a moment when my daughter needs her most. I can't tear my eyes away from the way Olivia's features light up with motherly affection for Emily; the way she tenderly strokes my daughter's hair as she sleeps soundly in my bed; how her gaze occasionally shifts to mine with an unspoken but easily understood appreciation for what is happening between us. Her undeniable womanliness stirs something inside of me that has lain dormant for far too long.

As I watch her contentedly moving around the room like a graceful swan, I am flooded with butterflies in my stomach and the deep desire to make her mine — I remember her words on how nothing would happen between us unless she is to initiate it - so to make me hers.

But until then, I just want Olivia to be happy. Happy and safe. Tonight, I understand the true extent of my emotions for Olivia when I couldn't get the worrying image of that gash on her leg from out of my mind. Had it been any other woman, I wouldn't have cared - at least, not if my own daughter was sick in the periphery. But tonight, I was just as worried about Olivia's leg as I was about Emily’s illness ... almost.

I take a few steps closer to Emily and notice she is starting to doze off. With great tenderness, I whisper in her ear, "Emily ..." She stirs but doesn't open her eyes. Again I whisper her name, this time softer than before, and slowly she opens her eyes giving me a sweet smile that makes my heart flutter and then closes them back in slumber.

I can't help but feel enamored with the beauty of the moment. I give Olivia a nod and ask if she could come out into the other room where we can look at the gash on her leg without disturbing Emily's sleep.

Olivia gets off the bed carefully and follows me across the hall into my guest bedroom where I lay out clean towels, antiseptic washcloths, and bandages for us to use later. We both sit down on the floor side by side, and I look into her beautiful eyes.

I thank Olivia again for coming over tonight and helping with Emily. She smiles softly at me and gives me a small nod of appreciation. We both know that without her help we wouldn't have made it through the night so easily.

"Let me help you," I say, reaching for her leg to inspect the wound but Olivia pushes my hand away gently.

"You've had a rough night," she says. "And you're hurt too, on your forehead. I can manage this myself."

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