Page 61 of How to Ruin a Wedding

“Yes,” he says, removing his hands from his face to reveal dark, thick bags under his eyes. His hair is soaked at the tips, as if he just took a shower, but when I see moisture at the center of his shirt and the sides of his brow, I realize it’s sweat.

Immediately, I place my hand on his forehead and neck—he’s burning.

“Oh my God.” I grip his face in my hands. “You have a fever.”

“It’s not too bad,” he says with a strained smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have picked something up for you.” I keep moving my hand around his face, looking for a cool spot, but he’s hot everywhere.

“At first I thought maybe I was just hungover, but after a while, I just felt worse. I’m better now, I swear.”

“Liar.” I let him go and head to the fridge. After a quick scan of the shelves, I find there’s nothing to aid with a fever. I scour through the cabinets next, when he appears beside me, laying a shaky hand on my arm.

“I’m fine, I promise. Tell me about your day?”

“You can barely stand straight,” I say, and even I hear the anger in my voice. I’m not sure why that’s the emotion choosing to appear, but it makes me move with purpose and speed. I grab his arm and drag him to his room.

“Lucinda,” he says, his eyes barely open.

“Lie down.” I shove him, and I know he’s sick because he’s usually a rock. At my force, he plops right onto the bed. “Have you eaten? Drunk? Taken any medicine?”

“I’m—”

“Say you’re fine one more time and I’ll choke you out, I swear to God.”

He laughs, then coughs, and I rush to the kitchen to bring him a cup of water. When I’m back, he’s leaning on the headboard. After he takes a few sips, I ask him again what he’s had today.

“I can’t keep anything down, so don’t make me anything.” He drops the glass on the bedside table. “And I took some pain medicine for the headaches.”

“How long ago?”

He pauses, like he can’t remember.

“I’m taking your car,” I say, “and getting some things from the corner store. Do not tell me not to, and you better be in this exact same position when I get back or the choke out happens—and I promise you, I will do it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

My time at the store is brief and efficient. With Taina being a sickly kid, I know exactly what to look for in each aisle and what mixtures of medicine combat all symptoms without causing negative reactions. Though my time in his car is confusing—there are way too manybuttons, and everything looks a lot farther from the vehicle when you’re inside, and there’s a small scratch from a curb I’ll have to apologize for later.

For now, I let myself back in and find Anders exactly how I left him.

“Good boy,” I say, dropping one of my plastic bags on the bed. I pull out an energy drink for the electrolytes and start popping open the pills, gathering the mix in my palm. “Take this.” I hold the pills and the drink toward him.

“I don’t want to put you out,” he says.

And all I can think of is little baby Anders, cleaning up after himself, making barely a sound, locking himself away in his room, fearful of being a bother.

“All I want is to make you feel better,” I say, my brows pulling together.

He holds my gaze a moment, softening despite his rising fever, before taking the pills. How many times was he sick and suffered through it without the comfort of a loved one? Just lying in bed in pain, waiting for it to pass?

When he finishes, I take the bottle and leave it beside him. He grips my wrist. “Why do you look sad?”

I gaze down at his fingers on me, then lean in and wrap my arms around him in a tight hug. He stiffens, then eases, pulling me closer to him. And I think of Bethany saying he just goes with the flow, makes this easy-to-like version of himself, and I wonder if even this hug is that too. Just reacting to me for my comfort. Maybe he doesn’t want to touch me at all, right now.

I pull away, and he brings his hands to my shoulders, his brows bunching. “What was that for? Was girls’ day that torturous?”

“No,” I answer, “it was perfect, and fun, and I want Bethany to adopt me.” I press my finger against his chest. “The hug was for kid Anders.”