Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 182075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
She didn’t know if she’d ever heard him say please. And she found herself nodding.
“Thank you,” he told her.
“You don’t have to thank me for letting you take care of me,” she told him. “I want you too.”
“Good, because it feels like this was what I was put on this earth to do.” He picked her up in his arms. “Now, no more walking around on your own, understand? You could have fainted and hit your head.”
She frowned.
“This is serious, Indie. You are ill. And you could get very ill. Preeclampsia is no joke. We are not going to lose you or the baby, but you have to help us by letting us look after you.”
“You guys tell me that a lot. I’ll try.”
Slade was snoring softly in the bed when Quaid laid her down next to him. Slade stopped snoring and she held her breath. Shit. If they woke him up . . .
But he simply rolled over and went back to sleep.
To her surprise, Quaid didn’t leave. Instead, he sat in her armchair and stared at her for a long moment. Then, suddenly, he got up and left without a word.
Oh.
Disappointment filled her. She’d thought he was staying.
But he quickly returned with Gary in his arms. Gary! He must have been in the playroom. Poor Gary.
She held her hands out and took the gargoyle, hugging him tight. Quaid brushed his lips over her forehead.
“Sleep.”
To her surprise, she found herself closing her eyes. She’d just close them for a few minutes.
“You’re going to be a terrible patient, aren’t you?” Quaid murmured.
No she wasn’t as long as everyone let her do what she wanted.
See? Easy.
“Quaid is certainly paying penance, isn’t he?” Spencer said cheerfully as he walked into the kitchen.
Slade shook his head. “What did she do now?”
Their girl had been home from the hospital a few days. And she’d made it clear she wasn’t going to be a model patient. Of course, none of them were having that.
Nope, they were all over her.
Spencer had made it his personal mission to feed her up. While Quaid barely left her side, carrying her to and from the bathroom.
Rock liked to feed her. And Slade . . . well, he still wasn’t sleeping much. He tended to sit and watch her sleep at night.
To be honest, Spencer thought that they were all a bit of a mess. But he was going to pretend that they weren’t. When in doubt, just fake it. He’d called his family yesterday to tell them how sick she was. His ma had wanted to rush down here to help but he’d managed to convince her to stay home. He loved how much his family cared, but they’d be too much for Indie right now.
He knew that Indie had messaged Maggie, Margo, and Lemon to let them know what was going on. Maggie had already called Slade and ordered him to let her know as soon as anything changed with Indie.
“Made him watch that soap opera she likes. The one in Spanish,” Spencer said. “Quaid said he has a headache trying to figure out what was going on and if one more character turned up pregnant or fell off a bridge, he was going to jump from the nearest window.”
Speak of the devil. He walked out into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, handing one to Spencer and Slade.
Rock didn’t drink. His grandfather had been a mean drunk and he didn’t want to risk becoming like him.
“She’s sleeping,” Quaid told them. “Beth told me to take a break. I don’t know why.”
“Maybe because you look like death,” Spencer told him cheerfully.
Quaid glowered at him and Spencer decided he better make some dinner. Quaid was always grouchy when he was hungry. Hmm. What to make tonight? He had a list of healthy meals for expectant mums.
“She’s a terrible patient,” Quaid said.
Rock just grunted, but there was a smile playing on his lips. Rock was terrible at giving in to her. If she wanted the Mona Lisa hanging in her room, he’d probably plot ways to infiltrate the Louvre and get it for her.
“I’m getting worried about her,” Quaid said. “She just seems to be getting sadder every day. Even when we were watching that shitty soap, her smiles seemed . . . forced.”
“She needs some Little time,” Spencer said. He was certain that would help.
“And I think she should talk to a therapist,” Slade said. “I’ve tried to talk to her a couple of times, but she told me she was all right. However, with everything that has happened . . . I think she needs to speak to one.”
Spencer nodded. “Now might not be the time, though. It must be hard for her being trapped in bed. She’s always tried to keep up with all of us. Remember the time she wanted to take up mountain biking and thought she could just launch herself down a track without any training? Broke her arm in three places and then wouldn’t accept our help until Slade threatened to spank her.”