Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Malik’s eyes widen as he takes me in, eyes running my length quickly before locking back on my face. “Jesus, Anna… you look awful.”
“Thanks, babe,” I quip wearily with a chuckle as I turn from the door. “You look great, too.”
“You need to go to a doctor,” he insists, walking in behind me.
“I just need to lay down for a minute before Avery wakes up,” I counter, moving right to the couch where I collapse. Curling in on my side, I pull the blanket I’d been using over me, but Malik’s right there, squatting beside the couch.
His hand goes to my forehead, where I know he’ll find my skin cool and damp. “No fever,” he murmurs. “What’s going on with you?”
“Just a ton of vomiting and nausea,” I murmur, relishing the feel of his touch. It’s nice to have someone care, even though I know my mom would have been here had I not been so stubborn. Which makes me wonder. “What are you doing here?”
“When you called in sick, I got worried,” he replies, pushing up and sitting his butt on the edge of the couch. He puts his hand on my back. “So, I took a very early lunch to come check on you. Is Avery asleep?”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling so fatigued now Malik is here. “You think I could maybe take a little nap?”
“Of course, you can,” he says, his thumb rubbing along my spine. “I’ll handle Avery if she wakes up.”
“There’s some breast milk on the counter. I took it out about half an hour ago to come to room temperature.” My eyelids start to drift closed.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t get you to a doctor?” Malik asks.
“Honestly, the vomiting has slowed down, I think,” I mumble, feeling myself start to drift.
“Have you been drinking liquids?”
My eyes pop back open, slightly irritated he keeps asking questions. “I’ve been sipping on some ginger ale.”
Malik smiles. He can see and hear my annoyance. Without regard to his own safety, he bends and presses a quick kiss onto my temple. I’m slightly horrified because I know my hair is a rat’s nest and I’m pretty sure I smell like a toilet. But I’ll worry about that later.
“Get some rest,” he assures me, and my eyes fall shut. I barely feel him push off the couch and that’s the last thing I remember.
♦
The sound of the door closing wakes me up almost instantly, and I sit up on high alert. I cut my gaze across the living room to see Malik coming in, carrying a bag of groceries.
Smiling, he asks, “How are you feeling?”
I can understand nothing but the fact he’s walking in my door, clearly having left while I was sleeping, and I snap my gaze over to my daughter’s bedroom. There’s a panicked, hysterical quality to my tone. “Where’s Avery?”
“She’s right here,” my mom says. I shift over toward the kitchen to see her walking into the living room while cradling Avery in her arms.
I’m confused, considering that perhaps this is just a dream, so I look back to Malik for some type of clarification. His expression softens with understanding. “You’ve been asleep for almost three hours,” he explains. “Your mom showed up about an hour ago. So, I ran out and got some groceries—mostly more ginger ale, crackers, and some soup—for you.”
“Three hours?” I mutter, sitting up more fully and pushing a hunk of tangled hair out of my eyes.
“You should have called me,” my mom says, making a tsking noise in her throat before smiling down at her granddaughter. “Good thing I decided to come by to check on you.”
I wince internally, knowing her feelings are still hurt while also taking in the slight awkwardness of her meeting Malik this way.
But then my mom shoots a warm smile at Malik before saying, “Also a good thing your friend came by to check on you, too.”
And when she says the word “friend,” she puts enough emphasis on the word to say she knows he’s so much more than that.
My jaw sags slightly as my mom seems to be complimenting Malik and my choice in a man, when I thought she’d think it was all too soon. Wisely, I hold any comment about that in and merely sag against the cushions.
Malik sets the bag of groceries on the coffee table, then moves over to me. Bending toward me, he asks, “Really… how are you feeling? You slept pretty hard.”
I take quick physical stock of myself, noting I don’t seem to be nauseous. “My stomach actually feels okay. I mean, I absolutely don’t want to eat anything, but I don’t feel like I need to throw up anymore. I’m just exhausted.”
“Hours of vomiting can do that to you,” he quips with a wink. “Can you handle some ginger ale?”
I nod with a wan smile, my mom rocking Avery back and forth while she watches us.