Fall With Me(36)
Author: Bella Forrest

“Go back to bed,” I tell him. “I’ll get you some aspirin and some tea.”

He coughs into the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I think you might be onto something there.”

I drink a cup of coffee and make him lemon tea with honey, which my dad always made for me when I was sick. I set that, plus a slice of dry toast and a few aspirin, onto a tray. I pass Allison as I’m leaving.

“Have you seen Griff?” she asks.

“He’s sick,” I tell her. “He went back to bed.” Her eyes go to the tray. “I’m bringing this to him, and then I’ll be back.”

“Why don’t I take it to him.” She holds her hands out.

“I don’t think so.”

She narrows her eyes and takes a step toward me. “What are you doing, Jill?” she hisses. “What game are you playing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s sick; I’m bringing him some medicine and some tea.”

“Yet you won’t let me bring it to him. Why? Do you really think he’d rather you brought it than me?”

“Actually, yes, I do.”

She looks as though she’s about to pitch a fit but then thinks better of it.

“This isn’t a competition,” I say. “So there’s really no need for you to get upset about anything. Why don’t you go eat breakfast with Brett? He’s got an empty spot next to him.” And then I walk away, not caring if the conversation was done in her mind or not.

He’s huddled on the bed, buried under several blankets. I put the tray on the table and go over with the aspirin and a glass of water. He sits up, his eyes bleary, hair messy.

“Christ, I feel like shit.” He pops the aspirin into his mouth and washes them down with a sip of water. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I think I might have to bail on lunch today. Probably wouldn’t make such a good first impression.”

I smile. “That’s okay. There’s tea, too, and some toast, if you feel like eating.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I don’t right now, but I might later.” He lies back down. “Would you . . . would you lie here with me? Just for a minute. I won’t breathe on you, I promise.”

I consider refusing, but only for a second. I stretch out next to him and he wraps the blanket around us both. I can feel how hot his face is against my neck.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice raspy and dreamy sounding. “I turn into a big mushball when I get sick. Just want to snuggle. When I was a kid, though, and got sick, my mom wouldn’t even come into the same room. She’d practically start wearing one of those face masks, and make the maid take care of me. She was kind of a bitch, the maid, but she always made sure I drank plenty of fluids and took my medicine. She certainly wasn’t one for snuggling.”

“I can’t believe you had a maid.”

“Eleanor. That was her name. Shit, I wonder what happened to Eleanor.”

“I ran into Allison on the way out, when I was bringing the tray out here. She wanted to do it. She said you’d rather if she brought it.”

I feel his laugh, rather than hear it. “Well, I think the desire to snuggle would’ve been nixed if she was the one who brought it.”

“So . . . what happened between you guys? If you don’t mind me asking.” I consider that now might not be the best time to get into this sort of conversation, but then I think that maybe it is . . . with his guard down, he probably won’t gloss over the truth, though I can’t say whether or not it would change anything.

“We kissed. It could’ve gone a lot further, trust me, but I was serious when I told you I’m all set with the statutory charges. I have a good instinct, sometimes, when it comes to this sort of thing. The girls that are going to start trouble if you get too involved. And she is definitely one of them. Does that . . . does that bother you?”

“What, your great instinct?” I say, though I know that’s not what he’s referring to.

“No, that Allison and I kind of hooked up. It really was just a kiss. Not even a very good one at that. Not like you.”

I laugh. “No, it really doesn’t bother me.”

“I’m not just saying that, you know. About you being a really great kisser.”

“Well, coming from someone with as much as experience as you have, I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I’m not as experienced as you might think. You’re my first, actually.”

“You can’t see my face right now, but I’m rolling my eyes.”

“Well, you’re my first girlfriend.”

There’s a long pause, and I replay the words he’s just said about a dozen times in my head before he says, “If that’s okay with you. Which I hope it is. I’ve never had an actual girlfriend before, and knowing you makes me realize that I’d like one.”

Since we’re lying there, basically spooning, he can’t see my expression, but if he could he’d see I am smiling, that in fact, I have a huge grin that I can’t wipe off my face.

*

Uncle Nate seems to be in relatively good spirits during lunch. “Isn’t there supposed to be someone else here?” he asks. “I heard you were bringing a date along.” He smiles as he says this, as though he’s genuinely happy to hear that I might be involved with someone. When he smiles, he looks a lot like Dad.

“He’s sick,” I tell him. “But he really wanted to come and meet you guys.”

“It’s the boy she wasn’t getting along with,” Mom says. “Remember?”

Uncle Nate raises his eyebrows. “Glad to hear you’ve turned that around.”

We go to a little café that Mom likes and sit outside. Overhead, the clouds are starting to break up and the sun peeks out. I am, in fact, almost done with my turkey club sandwich before Uncle Nate starts talking about Dad.

“I wanted to make a point to be in Lanai on the anniversary of Mike’s death,” he says. Lanai was where my parents went on their honeymoon, one of the first destinations when Uncle Nate launched his cruise business, the place of some of my favorite childhood vacation memories. I set my sandwich down. “I told myself on the way out here that I wasn’t going to bring it up again. Because, believe it or not, after the last time we got together, I did some reflecting. And while I will always know in my heart of hearts that the accident was not just an accident, I can see why you might want to just try to put the whole thing behind you. This is not to say that I am going to do that, but I believe that you’ve made it abundantly clear you don’t want to hear about it any longer. And I’ve got to respect that; I know Mike would want me to. And maybe . . . maybe there really is nothing to be done. I just don’t want to believe that.”