caller ID said GABRIEL. Nicolai’s dad. “Gabriel? Is everything all right?”
“I hate to call you, Rowan, but Calder says his tummy hurts. He said he feels like he could throw up.”
“Has he?”
“No, but I wasn’t sure what he could take for it, so I thought I’d better see what you want to do.”
I stood. “I’ll just come and get him. I’ll be there in like five.”
“I think that’s for the best. He looks pretty pale.”
My stomach roiled. “Thanks, Gabriel.” I hung up and started toward the door, my mind focused on getting to my son as fast as possible.
“Whoa.” Jensen stepped in front of me. “What’s going on with Calder?”
“He’s sick, so I have to go get him.”
“Of course you do, sweetheart, but not looking like that.”
I glanced down. The upper half of my dress was bunched around my waist. My bra—no idea where the hell that had gone. But the fact of the matter was, my boobs were hanging out as was my ass. “Omigod.”
“Here. Let me.” Jensen was as adept at getting me back into my clothes as he’d been getting me out of them. Then he tilted my head back and smoothed his hands over my hair. “Better.”
“Thank you.” I looked down to hide my face in the guise of searching for my shoes. “I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted . . .” I swallowed the tears that clogged my throat from worry for my child and frustration that I had to leave it like this with Jensen. “I’m sorry. You’re probably mad—”
“Stop.” He invaded my space, his hands cradling my face as he forced me to look at him. “I know we have to go, so we can talk about it later, but don’t think for one second I’m pissed off at you because your son got sick.” He kissed me quickly, but tenderly. “You need to grab other shoes, or will you be all right walking barefoot?”
My brain had gotten stuck on we. “Jens, you don’t have to—”
“Help you? Wrong. I’m here, so suck it up and let’s go.” After another quick kiss he held the door open for me and as soon as we were in the hallway, he reached for my hand.
In that moment I knew I was on dangerous ground with him.
But I couldn’t think about that now.
He squeezed my fingers and said, “Breathe, mama. You won’t do him any good if you pass out before we get there.”
I inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. Some of my lightheadedness disappeared.
The sidewalk was cool beneath my feet as we crossed to the next building. Our key card only worked for our building, so I had to use the buzzer. By the time we reached the apartment on the second floor, Gabriel waited for us in the doorway. “Sorry about this. Gejel is sitting with him on the couch. I don’t think it’s anything he ate, since we all had the same thing and none of us are sick.”
“I’m sure it’s not food-related. He just gets overly excited sometimes and this happens.”
Gabriel finally looked at the big man standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders. “Hey, Jensen. Good to see you. Wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Me too.”
I’d barely made it through the door when Calder launched himself at me. “Mommy, my tummy hurts.”
“I know, baby.” I tried not to squeeze him too tightly. “We’ll get you home.”
“But I don’t wanna go! Nicolai probably won’t ever want me to have a sleepover again,” he said between hiccupping sobs.
Nicolai’s mom said, “That’s not true. Nico had a blast with you tonight. He’s sad you’re sick. But we want you to get better so you can come over again soon, okay?”
Calder nodded. Then he noticed Jensen.
Jensen crouched down. “Hey, little dude. You ready to go?”
He walked over and set his head on Jensen’s shoulder. “I don’t feel too good.”
“I heard. Hang on.” Then Jensen picked my son up as if he carted him around all the time.
Calder snuggled into him.
“Here’s his stuff,” Gejel said.
I grabbed the backpack and the duffel bag. Good thing I had Jensen’s help; I couldn’t have carried all of this and Calder and opened all the doors. “Thanks for having him over,” I said to Nicolai’s parents.
In the hallway, I said, “Do you want me to carry him?”
He pierced me with that “Are you serious?” dark look as his answer.
I had walked ahead with the key card to open the door to our building when I heard retching. I whirled around to see vomit splattering on the pavement behind Jensen. My gaze moved from my son’s back as he heaved over Jensen’s shoulder, to Jensen’s face—or rather his profile, as his focus was on Calder.
“Set him down.”
“In a second.” Jensen rubbed Calder’s back. He murmured, “You okay?”
Calder threw up again.
I stomped closer. “Give him to me.”
Very calmly, Jensen said, “I’ve got him. I think it’d be best if one of us wasn’t covered in it.”
Oh no. “He . . . it . . . got you?”
“Down the back of my shirt and my legs.”
Now I felt ill.
Calder heaved again.
Jensen kept running his hand up and down Calder’s back, murmuring to him.
And Calder didn’t fight to get down.
I stood by, feeling helpless.
Several long minutes passed with no additional heaving.
Jensen looked at me and said, “We’re good to go.”
I unlocked the building door and held it open. Jensen chose the stairs and I followed behind him, wanting to see how covered he was.
Oh yeah. His back and his pants were a mess.
When we reached my apartment, Jensen said, “Where do you want him?”
“Bathroom.”
He lowered him to the floor, by the toilet. Then he stepped back. “I’m going to my place for a quick shower and change of clothes. Leave your door unlocked, so I can come back.”
I’d crouched next to Calder, who’d closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the bathtub. “That’s okay. You’ve already gone above and beyond—”
“I’m coming back,” he repeated. “Don’t shut me out. Please.”
This man. I couldn’t wrap my head around this side of him. He continually surprised me. “Okay.”
He sent me a relieved look, and then he left the bathroom.
Calder stirred and blinked at me groggily. “Mommy?”
“I’m here. How’s your tummy?”
“It hurts. It’s all jumpy inside.”
Poor baby. I pressed my hand to his forehead. Clammy, but not overly hot. I pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “What can I get for you?”
“Gonna be—”
I had him over the toilet before he finished the sentence.
He’d hit the dry-heave stage. Hopefully that meant his stomach was about to settle down. I managed to get him undressed. Then I wet a washcloth and sat him on the edge of the tub and gently wiped him down.
The floor creaked and I glanced over my shoulder to see a freshly showered Jensen leaning against the doorjamb. “What do you need?”
Calder blinked at him with confusion.
I said, “Clean pajamas would be good. There’s some on top of Calder’s dresser.”
“I don’t wanna wear pajamas. I’m hot,” Calder said crossly, and shivered.
“How about just a T-shirt?” Jensen said diplomatically.
“SpongeBob,” Calder insisted.
“On it.”
The T-shirt lasted only a few moments before Calder started throwing up again.
This episode had gone beyond excitement to some kind of stomach bug. I rummaged in the medicine chest but didn’t see any of my usual over-the-counter fixes. Pepto-Bismol always worked and Calder willingly took it, which was half the battle.
“Mommy, I want to lay down. The light is bright and it’s hurting my eyes.”
“I can cover your eyes with a
washcloth, but until I’m sure you won’t get sick in your bed, we’ll have to stay in the bathroom.”
Calder dropped to the floor and curled himself around me. His body was hot and it hadn’t felt that way twenty minutes ago. Dammit. I should’ve grabbed the thermometer.
Jensen said, “What do you need?”
“There’s a thermometer on the bottom shelf of the medicine cabinet.”
“This?”
“No. Other side. That’s it.” He handed it to me. “Thank you.” I ran the thermometer across Calder’s forehead. Twice. Both readings said one hundred and one degrees.
Shoot. I knew I was out of children’s pain reliever too because it was on my list of things to pick up. And of course, Calder needed it right now.
“Ro. Sweetheart. Talk to me. Tell me what I can do.”
“I need . . .” I hated asking for help. Hated it.
Jensen lowered to his haunches next to me until I had no choice but to look at him. “Ask me.”
“Could you go to a twenty-four-hour drugstore and pick up Pepto-Bismol and kids’ Tylenol? I’m out of both.”
“No problem. Anything else?”
“Maybe some crackers and ginger ale?”
“On it.” He stood. He paused for a moment and pointed to my purse on the floor next to me. “Keep your phone close. I’ll text you options so I don’t get the wrong things.”
I almost told him whatever he got would be fine, but that wasn’t true. I had specific products in mind and he was astute to know I wouldn’t be satisfied with whatever. “Let me give you some cash.”
“Worry about that later. It’ll probably take at least half an hour.”
“Thank you.” I shifted Calder on my lap—he’d fallen asleep—and opted to close my eyes for a moment.
Ten minutes later my phone buzzed with images of the massive amounts of choices for kids’ pain relievers. I zoomed in on the one I wanted, screen-captured it and texted it back to him. Repeat with the Pepto-Bismol.
Calder had crashed completely and his body was hot, even though he wore only his underpants. He wasn’t a heavy kid, but he was solid. Both my leg and my arm had fallen asleep. But he’d finally settled and I’d have to wake him up soon enough when Jensen returned.
It’d probably be the last time he’d be here. Yanked up short on the promise of hot sexy times and then barfed on by a six-year-old and turned into a middle-of-the-night errand boy. I was surprised The Rocket hadn’t sprinted away.
Yeah, it was some fun getting mixed up with me.
I pressed my lips to the crown of Calder’s head, taking comfort in the fact that I was doing the right thing, the best thing, the most important thing in the world—raising a well-adjusted, healthy, kind, loving, thoughtful human being. I’d always been happy—content even—with it being just me and my son growing together, going through the day-to-day ups and downs of life.
I knew all this in my heart, in my gut, in my mother’s soul, so why did I have a hollow feeling I couldn’t shake? I worried I’d started to attach myself to the wrong person, in the wrong place. Wasn’t Jensen more shifting sand than stable ground?
You’ve always been an island. You’ve felt the seismic shift of the plates beneath the surface of your life that are loosening the moorings since the moment you met him. Things change. You can fight against nature or you can accept that some things are out of your control.
The door to my apartment clicked, startling me from the odd direction my thoughts had taken.
Jensen set the meds on the bathroom counter. “Has he been sick again?”
“No. He fell asleep right after you left.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry it took longer than expected.”
“It was probably good for him to sleep.”
“Do you have to wake him up? Or can you just put him in bed?”
I brushed my hand over Calder’s head. “He’s got a fever, so he has to take the Tylenol.”
“Will he be able to keep that down?”
“Time to find out.” I shifted, dislodging him from his comfy spot curled into me.
He grumbled and tried to burrow back in.
“Hey, sweetie. I need you to take some medicine. It’s the grape kind.”
Jensen handed it to me.
Calder blinked a few times and sat up. I held the cup to him and he downed the purple liquid in two drinks. “I’ll give you a sip of water. But just a sip until I know you can keep the medicine down, okay?”
He nodded.
So we waited for his stomach to react. Jensen leaning on the doorjamb, Calder and me on the floor.
My son half dozed again. It’d been an hour since he’d thrown up, so I thought maybe we could skip the pink stuff and go straight to bed.
“Calder. Baby, you have to move so Mommy can get up.”
“I’ve got him,” Jensen said. He reached down and plucked him up.
I stood, but my leg buckled from being asleep and I caught myself on the edge of the counter.
Jensen turned around. “You all right?”
“I’m fine. Just pins and needles.”
Calder’s big eyes stayed on me as if he was confused about what was going on. So I shuffled along behind them.
I didn’t bother with the light in Calder’s room. As soon as Jensen set him on the bed, I sat on the edge. Mostly to fuss with him: pull the sheet up, press my cool hands to his overheated face. “How’s your tummy?”
He struggled to sit up and I wished I’d grabbed a bucket. “Mommy. Mr. Fuzzles. I forgot him at Nicolai’s. You have to go get him! I can’t sleep without him and he’s probably scared that I don’t want him anymore because I just left him there!”
“Ssh. Honey. Mr. Fuzzles is in your backpack. I’ll grab him as soon as you lie back.”
“I’ll get Mr. Fuzzles,” Jensen said behind me. “It’s a stuffed . . . ?”
“Orangutan. The backpack is on the dining room table.”
Even in his panicked state, Calder could barely keep his eyes open.
“You want crackers? Or ginger ale for your tummy?”
He shook his head. His entire body sagged with relief when he had Mr. Fuzzles. Crushing him to his chest, he turned and closed his eyes.
I remained there until I knew he’d fallen asleep. I left the door open and headed into the living room. Jensen had been so quiet I suspected he’d left. But there he was, brooding out the sliding glass door. He turned to face me, his expression unreadable.
“He’s asleep?”
“Finally.” I ran my hand through my hair and didn’t know what else to say. I could feel Jensen staring at me.