When I’m recovered I ask, “How does that work? You being a billionaire? Like do you have a billion dollars just sitting in the bank?”
He snorts, “A lot of it is in stocks or tied into the company, so no, I don’t have a billion dollars just sitting in the bank. You ready to go to the doctor?”
I pout. “Can’t you be my doctor?”
He frowns, eyes narrowing as he shifts the car into reverse. “You’re the one who texted me saying you needed to see a doctor.”
“That was just a ploy to get you to pick me up and take me to your house so you can take care of me.”
Why the hell did I have to ask him to take me to the doctor? I don’t want to be poked and prodded.
“Nuh-uh.” He pulls out of the apartment complex. “You’re not getting out of this one.”
I gulp.
Fuck.
32
Jamie
Miranda is terrified of the doctor.
Not only is she scared to death of every person in the Urgent Care, but she made me smuggle the stupid fucking cat in here in her purse which I have to carry on my shoulder. Something tells me if she wasn’t so worried she’d be making fun of me right now, but this is her fault and I’m doing the best I can to make the whole cat purse thing look sexy.
Miranda swings her legs back and forth, the paper beneath her crinkling with each movement.
“Do you think they’re going to give me a shot? I don’t like needles. Like I would rather face a swarm of talking angry spiders Chamber of Secrets style than get poked with a needle.”
“I don’t think shots are typically given in the case of a virus.”
“Well, at least that’s good news.” A sigh whizzes out of her.
I probably shouldn’t be nearly as amused by all of this as I am. But considering I’m the man hiding a cat in a bag I don’t have much room to judge.
There’s a knock on the door and it opens a moment later. Miranda visibly recoils as the nurse enters the room.
“I’m going to get your blood pressure and temperature. It’ll just be a second,” the nurse tells her.
Miranda looks a bit green and I’m not sure if it’s from the nurse being in the room or if she has to throw up.
“Do you need a trashcan?” I ask just in case.
She shakes her head, holding out her arm to the woman.
Inside the bag Fettuccine meows. The nurse’s eyes shoot to me.
“He has really bad gas,” Miranda blurts. The nurse’s gaze slides to her, narrowing with suspicion. “Oh, yeah.” She tosses her thumb at me and I try not to cover my face. “He had Taco Bell. It gives him the toots and something else if you know what I mean.” Miranda whispers the last part behind her hand as if I’m not right there to hear it.
I stare up at the ceiling, saying a silent prayer even though I’m not one for praying.
Dear God, give me the strength to survive this woman.
“Blood pressure is good,” the nurse says, wrapping her stethoscope around her neck, “heart rate is a tad high, but not bad.” She types something into the computer. “Tell me about your symptoms.”
“Coughing, throwing up, achy,” Miranda rattles off, ticking each thing off on her fingers. “I’m miserable.”
“When did this start?”
“Yesterday.”
She adds something else into the computer.
“Date of your last period?”
“Uh … it was last week. I think. I don’t remember, but I had it.”
The nurse looks at her doubtfully.
Miranda rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone, opening an app. “Yep, last week for sure.”
“Sore throat?”
“No.”
“The doctor will probably want to test for Strep anyway. It’s going around right now.”
Miranda’s eyes widen in horror. “You are not shoving a Q-Tip down my throat.”
My head jerks back with amusement.
The nurse sighs. “Any other symptoms I should know about?”
Miranda wrinkles her nose in thought. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I’m going to give this information to the doctor.”
She walks out with the laptop in hand and I turn to Miranda. “You’re terrified of having a Q-Tip swab your throat, but you’ll deep-throat my cock?”
Her cheeks flush. “Well, when you put it like that I feel dumb.”
She does end up needing the throat swab, even though it comes back negative. It’s an hour before she gets a non-diagnosis and is released with an antibiotic. She falls asleep in the car, not waking until I pull into my garage.
“Where am I?” She looks round blearily.
“Home.”
A wistful smile graces her lips. “If I wasn’t sick, I would kiss you.”
I chuckle and get out of the car, unloading her bags. Fettuccine snoozes in her lap and only cracks one eye open when I go to help Miranda out.
She swats my hand away, giving me the cat instead.
“I’m sick, but I can still walk.” She groans as she gets out, wobbling a bit.
Always so fucking stubborn, but I don’t argue.
Inside, she looks around like she’s seeing it for the first time, or perhaps with new eyes.
“Come on,” I nod at the stairs, setting Fettuccine down, “you’re staying in my room.”
The cat runs away like the idea of Miranda in my room terrifies him.
You and me both, buddy. I might never let her leave.
“Your room?” I swear her voice shakes. “I’ve never seen your room.”
“Well, now you are. Try not to throw up on the sheets. They cost me a grand.” Her jaw drops and I laugh. “Kidding, I got them from Target.”
“A frugal billionaire. I dig it.” She stifles a yawn.
“You’re exhausted,” I accuse. It’s pretty obvious, but I hate knowing she’s tired.
She brushes her unruly hair behind her ears. “Sleep has been evasive. That tends to happen when you cough every thirty seconds and throw up every hour.”
“Well, the doctor said to get rest and drink lots of fluids. Let’s get started on the rest part.”
She pouts but follows me upstairs, her eyes widening as she sees my master bedroom for the first time. I wonder what the dark gray, nearly black walls, mahogany furniture and other accents look like to her. Is it what she expects? Does it tell her more about me?
She doesn’t say anything, just reaches for her bag and changes into pajamas, quickly climbing beneath the thick covers.
She sighs dreamily, sinking into the bed. “It’s official, Jamie Miller, you have the most comfortable bed on the planet. You could rent this bed for a fee.”
“That so?” I raise a brow.
“Mhmm,” she hums, closing her eyes. Her body then shakes with yet another coughing fit and I frown.
“I have to pick up Tobias from school. Are you going to be okay?”
She nods, not opening her eyes. I hope she can get some sleep because she seems to need it.
“My mom is around here somewhere so if you need something while I’m gone just holler for her or text me.”
“Just go, I’m going to try to sleep.” She curls her arms under her head.
Fettuccine scares the shit out of me as he appears out of nowhere, plowing through my legs. He tries to jump onto the massive bed, but he’s still too small. I lift him up and runs up to Miranda, curling his body beside her. She absentmindedly strokes the top of his head.
It’s ridiculous how fucking happy it makes me to see her lying in my bed, making herself comfortable. If only she wasn’t sick.
I can’t linger for long, so I head downstairs. I find my mom in the family room, curled up reading a book.
“Miranda is upstairs in my bed, she’s really sick and shouldn’t be alone.”
“Oh.” She closes her book, removing her bright orange reading glasses. “Is she okay?”
“The doctor couldn’t be certain what it i
s since she only got sick yesterday, but she has some antibiotics. She’s feeling pretty rough.”
She frowns and hops up. “I’ll make some homemade vegetable soup for her.”
“You don’t have to do that, Ma.”
“Nonsense.” She brushes past me, already on a mission to get to the kitchen. “I’m making the girl soup, and that’s final.”
I shake my head, following her. “I have to go get Tobias from school. I’ll be back. I told Miranda to get you if she needs anything.”
“I’ve dealt with sick people before. I can handle this.” Her eyes twinkle with assurance. Raising to her tiptoes, she grabs my chin and kisses my cheek. Stepping back, I see tears in her eyes. “I raised you good, Jamie.”
“Don’t get sappy on me now, Mama,” I joke, pulling her into a hug.
“I like seeing you happy.”
She smiles up at me and I know she means it. She’s thrilled that I’ve found someone I love.
“I like feeling happy.”
It’s not that I haven’t been happy, per se, but there’s been something missing.
Someone.
Her.
Miranda.
“I gotta go.” I dig my keys out of my pocket. “Have fun with your soup.”
She laughs at me as I stroll from the room to the garage.
Tobias’s school isn’t far, but already the pick up line extends into the road.
I pinch the bridge of my nose in impatience. I hate waiting in the pick up line, it’s the bane of my existence. It’s also the place where on far too many occasions one of the single moms has tried to ask me out. Not interested in your PTO approved vegan, gluten free, nut free, and fun free cookies, Karen.
The line moves forward slowly.
Oh-so-fucking-slowly.
Eventually Tobias spots the car and climbs in the back, buckling into his booster. I’m able to pull out and around, passing all the other suckers who still have to wait.
“How was school?”
“Fun.”
“What did you learn?”
“Stuff.”
I sigh heavily. The one word answers have already begun.
“Miranda’s at the house.”
“She is?”
I look in the rearview at his glowing expression.
“Yeah, but she’s sick. So don’t expect her to play board games or paint with you.”
“She was going to play Just Dance with me the next time she was over.” I hear the sadness in his voice as I turn onto the main road. “If she’s sick we should bring her something to cheer up. Like chocolate or a teddy bear.”
“You want to pick something out for her?” I look back at him briefly.
“Yeah!”
“I’ll stop at Walgreens.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later I’m buying a bag of Reese’s cups, a small bouquet of sunflowers, and a squishy cat stuffed animal. All for my son to give my girlfriend.
He grabs the items after I’ve paid, saying, “Thank you very much,” to the cashier before heading for the automatic doors.
I have a total ladies man on my hands.
The drive home is only a few minutes and the smell of the simmering soup permeates the air as soon as I open the door.
“Smells delicious, Ma!” I call out, closing the garage the door. Tobias’s feet already pound up the stairs. “No running in the house!” I yell after him. “And don’t wake up Miranda if she’s sleeping!”
The master bedroom is all the way on the opposite end of the upstairs so I don’t have to worry about waking her up yelling.
I poke my head in the kitchen, finding my mom occupied with cooking and singing along to the radio.
Deciding I better go upstairs before Tobias steals my girlfriend, I pause when I reach the landing and hear them laughing all the way down the hall. Miranda’s laugh turns to a cough. I can’t help smiling. I’ve fallen for a woman who loves my son and who my son loves. It couldn’t be more perfect than that.
I walk down the hall and into the open room. Tobias is sitting on the end of the bed and the goodies are piled around Miranda. Fettuccine rubs against Tobias and he giggles.
“Dad, we should’ve gotten a cat. Do you think Fettuccine will like Oreo?”
“He might think he’s a snack.”
“Jamie,” Miranda scolds, fighting a smile. “Don’t worry, Toby, I have a feeling they’re going to be best friends.”
Tobias grins at her and looks back at me. “Dad, can Miranda live with us? If you don’t want her to live in your room she can live in mine.”
Miranda presses her lips together, stifling laughter as her eyes connect with mine.
“And where, precisely, will you live then?”
“I guess you’ll have to build me that tree house I keep asking for.” He shrugs his small shoulders.
“Ah,” I breathe. “I see.”
“You should live with us.” He turns to Miranda once more, pleading. Fettuccine climbs up and curls into his lap. “We’re a lot of fun.”
“I know you are.” She starts coughing. “I think you better go, Toby. I don’t want you to get what I have in case it’s contagious.”
“Fine.” He looks down dejectedly. “I hope you like the stuff.”
“I love it.” She cuddles the stuffed cat. “Thank you for thinking of me. You’re so thoughtful.”
He beams and hops off the bed, running out of my room.
“I love him,” she tells me, and the confession rings with truth.
I step closer, bracing my hands on the bottom of the bed, feet of space still separating us. “But you love me more, right?”
She holds up her thumb and forefinger a tiny bit apart. “Only a little bit.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “I see how it is.”
“Dad!” Tobias calls from down the hall. “You better hurry, you don’t want to get sick.”
I shake my head at Miranda’s grin. “He doesn’t want me alone with you.”
She laughs, her smile fading when she starts to cough again. “Oh, shit.” She hurtles her body out of the bed and across the room to the master bath. A moment later I hear her throw up and my chest aches that she’s so sick. I carefully make my way into the bathroom, dampening a cloth and bending down to press it to the back of her neck. Her eyes flick to me. “Jamie, go downstairs. You really don’t want this flu or whatever it is. At least I’m not pregnant,” she jokes, then groans as she throws up again.
After she’s recovered I brush her hair back from her face. “Is that something you want some day?”
“Yeah, I do. I’ve always wanted to be a mom.”
I realize then how important it is to me to be a father again. If I never had another child I would be fine, but I love being Tobias’s father and feel it in my heart that I have more room to love others just as much.
I don’t reply, just help her clean up and stay as she brushes her teeth. Once she’s back in bed I finally leave and find Tobias downstairs sitting at the table with a massive glare and arms crossed over his chest. “It’s about time, Dad.”
It’s official. My son is going to end up being the biggest cock block ever.
33
Miranda
“I feel loads better already.” Stretching my arms above my head I smile. “A lot of the achiness is gone and I haven’t thrown up in hours.”
Coughing, on the other hand, hasn’t gotten much better.
Jamie lies in bed beside me, long legs stretched out. His pajama bottoms sit dangerously low on his hips and he doesn’t have a shirt on. He’s reading something on his iPad, completely engrossed in it. His hair is still damp from a shower, curling around his ears.
I might be sick, but I can still appreciate a sexy man. Sue me.
His eyes flick over to me. “I’m glad you’re better.”
“Can you hand me my phone?” I point to it at the end of the bed beside Fettuccine.
Jamie said the cat couldn’t sleep on the bed
tonight.
I said he was going to.
I won.
He leans over, picking up my phone. He passes it to me and I frown at all the texts from Lou. Photos from the concert that’s just begun.
“I can’t believe I’m not there,” I whine.
Only his eyes move in my direction—he’s good at that, must be a dad thing. “You do realize I could get you tickets to any concert and fly you there.”
My jaw drops. “I legitimately hadn’t given it any thought.”
He chuckles. “I love that about you.”
“What?” I sound slightly defensive as I type a text back to Lou, telling her I’m happy she’s having fun. Poor Abel looks really unsure in a selfie she sends right after. The poor guy is surrounded by thousands of screaming women.
“That the fact I’m wealthy is the last thing you think of if you even think of it at all.”
“Your money isn’t why I like you.” I bring up a browser, getting onto Buzzfeed to spend some mindless time scrolling articles and taking quizzes. “I like you for you, even when you’re an asshole.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating the bed.
“Thanks, I guess.”
“It’s a compliment.”
I click on a quiz that says it’ll tell me what Disney princess I am.
I already know, though, I’m Jasmine. She’s always been my favorite princess.
When the results pop up I let out a disgruntled breath. “Merida? Freaking, Merida? She got her mom and brothers turned into bears. Yeah, she’s a bad ass with a bow and arrow, but I am not Merida.”
Jamie sets his iPad down, looking at me in surprise. “Um … what was that nonsense? I didn’t understand any of it.”
“Ugh, it’s this quiz,” I wave my phone wildly, “that tells you what Disney princess you are and it says I’m Merida. I call bullshit. Here, you take it.” I text him the link and it pops up on his iPad. He gives me a look that says, really? “Humor me.”
He sighs and clicks on the link. It only takes him two minutes to take the quiz and he flips his iPad to show me the results. “I got Merida too.”
Desperately Seeking Landlord Page 18
