As I emptied his pockets, I glanced idly at a newsletter that had been in the inner pocket of his jacket. It had been folded open, and the three pictures on the page caught my eye. They had obviously been taken at the office Christmas party.
One was of a woman who looked like a young Ingrid Bergman. Wills’s secretary? She stood with a microphone in her hand, and the caption read, “Arianne DiNois entertaining us with her rendition of ‘Santa Baby.'”
The second was of a good-looking man exiting a closet. Because the pictures were in black and white, I couldn’t tell what color his hair was, but he seemed to have very light eyes. He was holding what looked like a sprig of mistletoe between his fingers, his hair was mussed, and there was a smug, satisfied grin on his face. “Who was Dev Howard kissing in the supply closet?”
The third was Wills…Wills? “William Matheson, demonstrating his ability to have a scintillating conversation with anyone.” He was standing next to a coat rack, apparently in a deep discussion with a hat and an overcoat. I couldn’t prevent a snort of laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“Were you drunk, babe? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you…” I turned, holding out the newsletter, then tossed it aside when I saw my lover’s face. He was drawn and pale, and shivers wracked his body. “Never mind. Get in bed. Did you take your temperature?”
“No. I didn’t know we had a thermometer.” He was wearing green and black plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a white undershirt, and goosebumps dotted his arms.
“Everyone has a thermometer.”
“I don’t. Didn’t.”
“Macho smuck.” I deliberately mispronounced the Yiddish word, hoping for a laugh. It got me a half-hearted smile. I went into the bathroom and rummaged in the medicine cabinet. I knew there was a digital thermometer in there somewhere. The boys had been healthy for the most part, but when anyone had come down with a cold or the flu, Paul had been the one to take care of them, and he’d insisted on having a thermometer in the house. “Gotcha!”
Wills was in bed when I returned with the thermometer, the covers up to his chin. He opened his mouth obediently, and kept the slim silver point under his tongue. The numbers flashed on the LCD screen, quickly rising above 100, 101, 102.
It beeped, and Wills removed it from his mouth, squinting at the read out, but I took it from him.
“What’s it say, babe?”
“One hundred two point five.”
“That’s not too good. I generally run a degree below normal.” That meant this was equivalent to 103. 5. I wasn’t happy about that, but before I could say anything, he sneezed, a very wet sneeze, and I handed him a tissue. He angled up on an elbow and blew his nose, wincing. “Damned tissue feels like sandpaper,” he groused. His poor nose was so red.
I went back into the bathroom and took a jar of Vaseline from the medicine cabinet. Instead of giving it to him to put on his sore nose, I did it myself.
“That feels good.”
“Good. Is your throat sore?”
“It’s a little scratchy.”
“Did you take the Tylenol?”
“You told me to, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but did you take it?”
“Yes, Poppa.”
“Wiseass. I’m gonna check the soup.”
“Okay. I could use something to drink while you’re in the kitchen…”
“No sooner said than done, babe. I brought you some ginger ale.”
“Thanks, Theo.” He couldn’t quite reach the can, so I handed it to him. “My mom used to give me ginger ale when I was sick.”
I brushed the hair off his forehead. He must have been thirsty. In a matter of seconds he was making slurping sounds through the straw.
“Let me take that. If you get all that gas in your stomach you’ll be uncomfortable. Now, you try and sleep. I’ll be back to check on you, but I won’t wake you until the soup is done.”
“‘Kay.” He turned on his side—facing my side of the bed—and pulled the covers around him. I tucked them in so no stray draft could get in and chill him. “Thanks, babe.”
“You’re welcome.” I dropped a kiss on his hair and straightened and looked around to make sure everything was neatened up.
All that remained was to put his shoes in the closet, and once that was done, I scooped up the kitten, who had come in and made herself comfortable behind Wills’s knees.
“Come on, Miss Su. You don’t want to disturb Daddy when he isn’t feeling well.”
She butted my chin with her head and purred, and I turned off the lamp. I left the door ajar so I could hear him if he needed me and called me.
If he needed me…
“Y’know something, Miss Su? Daddy is the first person who ever needed me. That’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” I took her continued purring as agreement and gave her a light squeeze. “Let’s go see how the soup is coming along.”