Wrong Wedding

by Noelle Adams

  “Well, you did.” She didn’t have the willpower to think through her words. They just spilled out. “Both of you did. You broke my heart.”

  Ten

  AFTER THAT CONVERSATION, the day passed in an aching, heated blur.

  Summer had no sense of how much time was passing. She knew she had a fever, and she knew she was in bed. And she knew that Lincoln was there a lot, wiping her face with a cool washcloth or making her drink. Sometimes she was glad he was there, reaching out to touch him or mumbling out his name. But sometimes he annoyed her, always hovering and dripping water on her when she was chilling.

  It changed from moment to moment whether she needed him to help her or whether she wanted to just be left alone to suffer.

  Mrs. Wilson came in at one point and tsked her tongue a lot. She set up soft, soothing music to play in the background and diffused some sort of essential oils that were cool and faintly minty. Neither thing troubled Summer unduly, and she knew the woman was trying to help, so she managed to force out thanks.

  The doctor paid a house call. Doctors did that in Green Valley. He wasn’t much help. He told them she had the flu. He told her to get rest and drink a lot of fluids. He gave her a medication that was supposed to shorten the duration, but it didn’t make her feel any better right now.

  During the times when her fever was reduced, she remembered that Lincoln had broken up with her, which was almost worse than the fever.

  That was how the day passed. Miserably. Interminably. And without much hope of getting better.

  She fell asleep sometime in the middle of the afternoon. She had no idea how long she slept, but it was a relief to have any sort of break. She woke up as a brutal wave of heat slammed into her. She pushed down the covers desperately and half sat up, gasping out, “Lincoln!”

  He didn’t answer.

  He’d always answered before. He’d always been right next to the bed. He’d wipe her hot face and murmur out soothing words.

  She waited a minute, but he didn’t appear. “Lincoln!” she choked out again. Her mouth was bone dry, and the rest of her body was drenched in sweat.

  “I’m here!” The voice was slightly muffled. It took a minute to figure out it was coming from the connecting room. Then it was closer. Slightly breathless. “I’m here, baby.”

  She blinked in the direction of the voice and saw Lincoln approaching her bed. His hair was wet, and he was naked except for a towel wrapped around his waist.

  He had a damp washcloth in his hand. He wiped her face and neck with it as she relaxed back onto the bed. It was cool.

  Then he brought a bottle of water to her mouth so she could take a couple of swallows.

  “Thank you.” She blinked up at his handsome face.

  His green eyes were so soft. “You’re welcome. Sorry I wasn’t here. You were asleep, so I thought I could take a quick shower.”

  “You’re allowed to take a shower.” She tossed restlessly, suddenly freezing. She fumbled urgently for the covers she’d pushed down just a minute ago.

  Lincoln leaned over to help her pull them up to her shoulders.

  “Why am I like this?” She tried to clear her vision so she could see his expression better.

  “You’re sick, baby.” He brushed some damp strands of hair back from her face. His touch was so gentle. “You’ve got a really high fever. The doctor said it would go up and down, but it seems really high to me. I’m going to call him again if it gets any higher.”

  “I’m okay now. You can go put your clothes on if you want.”

  He made a soft huff. Maybe laughter. “I’ll go in a minute.”

  His fingers were still stroking her cheek. She turned her face into his hand until he was palming it.

  Even as sick as she was, she could read the expression on his face. More than affection. It was adoration. And she wanted so much to always see it there.

  But she wouldn’t always see it there. He’d broken things off. He wasn’t going to let himself love her.

  She started to shake.

  “Oh please don’t,” he whispered, still holding her face.

  “You love me.” She wished her voice wasn’t so pitiful, but it was all she could manage at the moment. “I know you love me.”

  He shook his head, his features twisting briefly. “I can’t, baby. You know I can’t.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll take care of you as long as you need me. I’ll always be there when you need me. I promise you that. But I can’t.”

  She was crying now without tears. Everything in her body and heart hurt. “But I need you... I need you to love me too.”

  “Oh shit, baby. Please don’t do this.” He got up and walked to the bathroom, returning a minute later with a freshly dampened washcloth. He wiped her face with it. Then he gave her a few more sips of water. Then he murmured, “I’m going to get dressed. I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded mutely.

  She knew the truth now.

  It didn’t matter how sweet and tender he was being, taking care of her while she was sick.

  He wasn’t going to change his mind.

  THE NIGHT AND THE NEXT day followed in the same state of heat, pain, and timelessness. All Summer wanted to do was sleep deeply, to stop aching, or at least to pass into unconsciousness for a while. But she wasn’t given that grace.

  In the evening of the second day, she managed to sleep for an hour or so. It was nice while it lasted, but it didn’t last nearly long enough. She woke up as another wave of heat overwhelmed her, and she mumbled out what felt like her refrain. “Lincoln. Lincoln?”

  “He’s not here.” The voice wasn’t Lincoln’s. She knew it, but she hadn’t managed to open her eyes yet. She felt a damp cloth on her face. “But I’m here.”

  She opened her eyes to see a pair of kind brown eyes. “Carter.”

  He helped her take a few sips of water. “Yeah.”

  She really didn’t want to sound ungrateful, so she managed to keep the whine out of her voice as she asked, “Did he need to get some sleep?”

  “No. I don’t think he’s slept for two days. But he needed to go into work. He tried to take off, but they couldn’t find a last-minute replacement, so he has to go in until they find someone to cover for him.”

  “Oh.” She found the energy to smile at him. “Thanks for filling in. You really didn’t have to.”

  “As if I wouldn’t.” He looked sad behind his smile. “You’ve always been there for me when I needed you. I’m not about to let you down.”

  Her eyes burned, but she was so parched she couldn’t cry. “Thank you.” She shifted uncomfortably, pushing down the hot covers. “Why aren’t I getting any better?”

  “The doctor said it would be a few days at least. Maybe a week.”

  “I thought that medicine was supposed to help.”

  “Sometimes it does—makes it shorter or not as bad.”

  “This seems pretty bad to me. I can’t remember ever being this sick.”

  “I know.” He stroked her face with the wet cloth. “I’m sorry you’re going through it.”

  She sighed and tried to relax. Tried not to push his hand away just because she was feeling irritable. Carter was being so sweet. He’d always been so good-hearted.

  And she’d hurt him. A lot. Maybe it wasn’t her fault, but still... She’d done it.

  “Do you think you could eat anything?”

  She shook her head.

  “Maybe try some Gatorade?”

  She made a face. She didn’t like the taste of that in the best of circumstances.

  “Okay. Try to drink some more water then.”

  She tried, getting several swallows down until her stomach started churning. Then she flopped her head back onto the pillow and closed her eyes, completely exhausted.

  “You want to watch TV or anything?”

  “I can’t focus on it. Thanks though.”

  She could tell Carter was trying to keep the conversation
light. “Mom keeps coming in and putting on new music. She says it’s health music and it’s supposed to make you better quicker. I have no idea where she’s getting it. I hope it’s not annoying.”

  “It’s fine. It’s pretty neutral. It’s nice of her to try to help. The essential oils are actually kind of nice.”

  “Oh good. I had to stop her from rubbing coconut oil all over you with more of those oils in them. I hope I did the right thing in not letting her.”

  She almost—almost—giggled. “Yes. You did the right thing. Thanks.”

  His expression relaxed. They smiled at each other for a minute.

  Despite the pulsing ache of her body, it almost felt like they were friends again.

  The brief conversation wore her out, so she tried to drift back to sleep. It was a long time before she did.

  She woke up again with another surge of heat, mumbling out Lincoln’s name.

  When she didn’t get a response, she was suddenly, irrationally terrified. She sat up straight in bed. “Lincoln! Lincoln!”

  “Summer, I’m sorry. He’s still not here.” Carter’s voice. The world was a heated blur, but she was conscious enough to identify it.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder, trying to push her back down. She fought it instinctively. She had no idea what was happening. It felt like the whole world was assaulting her.

  “Summer, please.” Carter sounded almost desperate, and in any other situation, she would have immediately tried to help him. “Let me help you. I’m here.”

  “Lincoln,” she choked out, trying to calm down, trying to make her mind work. A tiny part of her knew she shouldn’t be struggling like this. It made no sense, and it was going to hurt Carter’s feelings.

  There was no logical reason why Carter couldn’t take care of her just as well as Lincoln could. But she was far beyond logic at the moment.

  Carter was still trying to get her to lie back on the bed. “Your fever has gone up. Maybe you’re delirious or something. It’s really okay. Let me help you.”

  She sobbed and couldn’t stop. She kept struggling in Carter’s hands. “Where’s... Lincoln?”

  “I’m here, baby.” It was a new voice. From the doorway of the room. “I’m here now.”

  She sobbed some more—this time in relief.

  Then Lincoln was kneeling beside the bed, gently easing her back down so her head was on the pillow. Carter handed him the washcloth, and Lincoln wiped her heated face with it. Wiped the tears away.

  She couldn’t focus enough to really see his face, but she didn’t need to. She could feel him, and that was enough.

  SHE EITHER FELL ASLEEP or passed out eventually. Either way, she lost track of everything for a while.

  The next thing she knew, her mind was clearer. She wasn’t quite so oppressively hot. She managed to open her eyes just enough to peek through. It was mostly dark in the room. Neat and quiet except for the low accompaniment of Mrs. Wilson’s health music. She turned her head and saw that Lincoln was in a chair next to the bed.

  He was slouched down, his head lolling to the side. He was sound asleep.

  Carter was no longer there, so he must have gone to bed. But Lincoln hadn’t left. The poor thing must have been exhausted.

  She wasn’t going to wake him up even though her mouth was dry as a bone. She found the energy to reach over to the nightstand and take the bottle of water there. It was lukewarm, but she didn’t care. She took several sips.

  She needed to pee, but that could wait until Lincoln woke up.

  She was fully focused on replacing the bottle of water without dropping it in her feeble grip, so she didn’t realize Lincoln had moved until his hand was wrapping around her bottle to help her.

  “I was doing it,” she said. “You were sleeping.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping.” His voice was warm and soft and edged with dry amusement. “Just resting my eyes.”

  “Liar,” she sniffed. “You should go to bed.”

  “I’m not going to go to bed until you can manage to wake up without screaming out my name.”

  “I was feverish! And I don’t scream out your name.”

  He chuckled and caressed her face gently. “You definitely do scream out my name. I heard you all the way downstairs when I was coming back from work. You freaked poor Carter out.” He paused a moment. “It feels like your fever has gone down.”

  “I think it has. I can think clearly again. Is Carter all right?”

  “He’s all right. Worried about you. He’s got some important meetings tomorrow, so I told him to go bed.”

  “Good.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Can you help me get to the bathroom? If not, there’s going to be some unpleasant cleanup to take care of.”

  “Sure.” He reached down to help her to her feet. “Mom brought up some clean sheets. If you want, I can change the bed while you’re in there. You’ve sweated all over these.”

  “You don’t have to make it sound so gross,” she grumbled, leaning on him as she limped toward the bathroom.

  “If you don’t think it’s gross, you can keep sleeping on sweaty sheets.”

  “No, I don’t want to. Please change them. I just thought you might be nicer since I’m so sick and all.”

  He chuckled and nuzzled her hair before he evidently remembered he wasn’t supposed to do that kind of thing. He jerked his head away and said, “Since when have I ever been nice?” They’d reached the bathroom now. “You need help in here?”

  “No. I can manage. Close the door since I’m not too keen on you watching me pee. If you feel like changing the sheets, it would be appreciated.”

  She could hear him laughing behind the closed door of the bathroom, and she sat on the toilet with a smile on her face.

  SHE FELT BETTER AFTER she’d gone to the bathroom, washed her hands and face, and brushed her hair. She was feeling stronger, so she went back to the bedroom and got clean underwear and a nightgown to change into while Lincoln finished with the bed. She took some more Tylenol.

  “I feel okay for now,” she said after climbing under the deliciously cool sheets. “You should go get some rest.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m serious. Carter said you haven’t slept for two days, and you’re going to pass out from exhaustion soon. I feel better right now. It feels like I might have a respite before the fever goes back up. So go lie on your bed at least. Leave the door open. If I scream out your name again, you’ll hear me. But hopefully I won’t.”

  He stood over her bed, his fingertips tracing the line of her cheekbone. “I don’t mind if you do.”

  She smiled at him rather sappily. “Go lie down.”

  “Okay. I won’t be sleeping, so just call out if you need anything. The door will be open. I’ll hear you.”

  She felt better when he went to his room, leaving the connecting door wide open.

  She felt so good she fell asleep.

  THE NEXT TIME SHE WOKE up, someone was coming into the room. It was dark, and she’d slept deeply, and for once she hadn’t woken up in a hot haze of fever. She felt a presence beside her bed, but she couldn’t focus enough to identify it or open her eyes.

  After a minute, she felt it move away without doing or saying anything. This provoked her curiosity enough to open her eyes just a little.

  She saw Carter at the door that connected her room to Lincoln’s. His back was to her, but he was dressed in a business suit. It must be morning, and he was heading into work.

  “Hey.” The voice was Lincoln’s and faintly groggy, like he’d just woken up.

  “Sorry to wake you,” Carter said. He was talking softly, like he didn’t want to disturb Summer. Then, as she watched, he stepped into Lincoln’s room. “Just checking on her.”

  “She was a little better earlier. Her fever had gone down. Is she still sleeping?” Lincoln’s voice was more awake now, and it was moving closer. He’d probably gotten out of bed, although she couldn’t see either of the men at the moment.
<
br />   “Yes. She’s sleeping.”

  “Okay.” Lincoln’s tone was different now. Almost wary for some reason. “Is something going on?”

  “I wanted to say something.”

  Summer’s breath hitched. Her body grew perfectly still. She suddenly knew what was coming, and she loved Carter so much for it.

  Lincoln said, “What is it? I’ve had a hard few days, so I’m not really up for heart-to-hearts at the moment.”

  “Yeah. I know. But I’m going to say this anyway. Just once. You can do with it whatever you want.”

  “Okay.” Lincoln’s one word was drawn out very slowly.

  “I forgive you.”

  The simple words lingered in the air. Summer was starting to shake under the covers.

  Lincoln didn’t answer for a long stretch of time. Then finally he asked in a hoarse whisper, “What?”

  “I forgive you. That’s it.”

  “That can’t be it. I—”

  “You messed up. A lot. I know you did. And some of the things you messed up hurt me.”

  “I more than hurt you. I destroyed your relationship with Dad. He never trusted you after I let you down. It’s my fault you were stuck in the position you were in when he died. My fault you were so desperate. You know it as well as I did.”

  “Yeah. I know. But most of that was Dad’s fault. He was never going to change. I blamed you because it hurt too much to admit the truth about Dad to myself. But it’s been years now. I shouldn’t still be holding on to it.”

  “You have every right to hold on to it. I didn’t do it to screw you over. I was... scared. Scared to be real. Scared to take life seriously. I was afraid it would hurt me again, the way it hurt when Dad rejected me. But that’s no excuse for what I did to you. Then and so many other times before. I always let you down when you needed me.” Lincoln’s voice was almost broken. Summer couldn’t see his face, but she could well imagine it. Tears ached in her eyes and slowly streamed down her cheeks.