The Two of Us (Love in Isolation Book 1)

by Kennedy Fox

  I already know the answer to this question, but I stay silent.

  “To make a name for himself, to break out of being more than an heir. I somewhat envy him for choosing a path outside of the family business.”

  This side of Cami is different, more vulnerable, and I’m sure she doesn’t show it to many people. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’ve handled things the best you could. And I think you’re going to be kick-ass at running a business. You’re smart, kind, and compassionate. Even if the media doesn’t see it, I do.”

  “You’re sweet to say that.”

  “I meant every word.” I wink. Once everything’s done, I put our food on plates, then hand one to her with a fork and napkin. She sits at the bar and slowly eats as I pour some milk into a glass.

  “Thanks.” She covers her lips and continues around a mouthful, “You spoil me.”

  “Have to keep you well fed.” I sit next to her and eat too.

  Her blue eyes meet mine, and she tucks loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I promise I’ll repay you for taking care of me.”

  I laugh and waggle my eyebrows. “I can think of a few ways.”

  Cami snorts. “Men.”

  “You know it, babe.”

  Once we’re done, I rinse the plates and put them in the dishwasher.

  “Oh, I thought we could watch a movie and relax for the rest of the day,” I suggest.

  Cami grins with a nod, and we enter the living room where Chanel sleeps peacefully. She tries to hold her like a baby, but Chanel is dead set on wiggling free. Eventually, she succeeds and jumps down, prancing away as if Cami inconvenienced her.

  “Wow, what a traitor. Chanel doesn’t see me for nearly two weeks and acts like she doesn’t even know me,” Cami says with a shrug just as Bruno runs toward her.

  I yell his name and tell him to sit.

  “You know it’s rude to get in people’s personal space. Stop,” Cami says as his little tail and butt wiggle. His tongue hangs sloppily out of the side of his mouth.

  “This is why dogs are better,” I taunt. “When they see you, it’s like the very first time. Cats don’t give two shits about their humans.”

  “She misses me in her own way,” Cami explains. “She’ll come to me when she’s ready.”

  I nod. “Whatever you say.”

  Cami coughs, then her face contorts.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, my chest and ribs are killing me. But I’m alive, thankfully.” She looks at me with sad eyes.

  “Hopefully, you’ll be good as new soon.”

  A smirk slides across her lips. “Can we build a fire?”

  “By we, you mean me, right?” I tease, and she playfully rolls her eyes. “Sure.” I glance over at the neatly stacked wood by the fireplace and make a mental note that we’ll probably need more in a few weeks. Grabbing some, I place it inside with a quick start log and light it. Once it crackles and pops, and the flames lick upward, Cami smiles. I meet her on the couch where she’s already covered with a blanket.

  I sit beside her and turn on the TV. Cami snuggles closer and rests her head on my shoulder. There’s nothing we could watch that would take my attention off her right now. I’ve been dreaming of moments like this for weeks.

  Eventually, we lie on our sides, spooning as she watches a murder mystery movie. I’m so comfortable, but tired, and end up falling asleep with her wrapped in my arms.

  Hours pass, and I’m being woken to Cami repositioning herself. When I sit up and put my feet on the floor, I close my eyes tightly because my head is pounding. I suck in a deep breath, and my chest burns. While I try not to freak out, Cami notices.

  The concern in her voice is clear as she asks me if I’m okay.

  “I don’t feel great,” I admit, not wanting to worry her, but not wanting to lie either. I don’t know if it’s my asthma and a migraine, or the onset of the virus. Immediately, Cami gets up and rushes upstairs, then returns with the thermometer.

  “Let’s check if you’re running a fever,” she states, handing it to me. “I disinfected it, I promise,” she says as I turn it on and put it in my mouth.

  Seconds later, it beeps. When I glance at the reading, Cami leans over to see it.

  “Eli.” She gasps and shakes her head. “No. That’s high.”

  I want to assure her everything will be okay, and that I’ll be fine, but we both know what this means. All I can do is take it one day at a time and fight like hell to live if I have it.

  “Get plenty of rest, and drink tons of water,” she instructs, and I shoot her a look.

  “I know, babe. I just took care of you, remember?”

  “I’ll help you, Eli. Shit, you need Tylenol,” she says.

  Cami gets up again and comes back with a glass of ice water and Tylenol. I swallow them down. “I kinda wanna go to bed.” A wave of exhaustion hits me, and I’m not sure how bad I’ll feel later, but so far, it’s mostly fatigue and chest tightness.

  I glance out the large windows at the beautiful mountaintops and realize the sun hasn’t set yet. I’ve slept for a few hours, but it doesn’t seem like enough. I didn’t expect to wake up and be symptomatic. Every time Cami and I get some alone time, the universe claps back. But I’ll be damned if I’m giving up that easily. As if this year could get any worse, it proves that it can.

  I stand and go to the stairs, and Cami follows like my shadow. I go to my room, and when I turn around and look at her, I notice she’s holding back tears that will fall any second.

  “Come here,” I say, opening my arms. “What’s wrong?”

  “I knew this would happen.” She sobs. “I knew you’d catch it from me, and I—”

  “Hey. Hey.” I put some space between us so I can fully look into her eyes. “Being able to hold you when you were so beat down was worth it. I’d do it a thousand times over. Don’t you forget that.” I wipe away her tears. “We’ll get through this. I have the hottest nurse in New York.”

  My words make her smile, and I take a mental snapshot of how beautiful she is, even when she’s upset. Her heart is so big.

  “Now, disinfect everything. I don’t want you to catch this again.” I suck in air, and it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.

  “Let me grab your inhaler,” she whispers, and I pull her back into my arms, wanting to hang on to her warmth because I know this might be the last time we touch for weeks. “And I’ll call Ryan too,” she adds.

  We break apart, and I walk to the bed. “Seriously, take care of yourself, okay?” I demand. “Promise me you won’t overdo it, please. You’re still on the mend.”

  Cami looks at me, wipes away more tears that stain her cheeks, and nods. “I promise, but right now, I’m more concerned about you than myself.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  CAMERON

  While I’m no longer running a fever, I’m still not myself, but it's manageable. I'm not as tired, and even though the dry, unproductive cough lingers, I know I'm on the tail end of this. Thankful is the only way to describe how I feel because it’s been devastating for others.

  Last night, after Eli went to his room, I grabbed his inhaler. He insisted that I keep it, but I wouldn’t feel okay doing that knowing how much he'll need it. It still burns to breathe, but my lungs are stronger than his.

  I can't stop blaming myself, and while it's counterproductive, this is my fault. Eli came here to escape his inconsiderate roommates. Who would have thought being here was more dangerous? If I could go back and self-isolate myself for the first two weeks of being here, I would. Then again, we never would've gotten to know each other on a deeper level if I had done that, so I’m torn on how to feel.

  After I jump in the shower and dry my hair, I move the small table from outside of my bedroom to his, then I go to the kitchen. Chanel rubs against my legs and meows as I place her favorite chicken and gravy food in her bowl. Taking a step back, I trip over Bruno, who's right behind me, and catch my fall. I yell at hi
m, and he gives me sad eyes.

  "I’m sorry, but you can’t stand that close to me.”

  He takes a few steps back and watches me. “Come on, buddy. I’ll feed you the good stuff." He follows me around as I fill his bowl and throw him a few treats, then bring Chanel upstairs to eat. As they chow down, I realize I'm hungry too, a sensation that’s new, considering I’ve not had an appetite. Eli took great care of me, and I’m determined to do the same for him.

  Cooking isn't my strong suit, but I'm thankful for the internet because I wouldn’t have known how to scramble eggs. I put them on the plate and decide I need to become more self-sufficient. There’s no reason I can’t teach myself and do more.

  A smile touches my lips because I actually made something else without burning down the cabin. I load the tray with everything and some bottles of water, then carry it upstairs. As I'm walking down the hallway, I hear Eli struggling. His coughs are deep, and the wheezing makes my heart drop. Helplessness overtakes me as I frantically knock on his door.

  "Eli," I call out. "Are you okay?"

  Instead of answering, he continues coughing. I swallow hard, set the tray down on the table, and wait for him to come to the door.

  Once he catches his breath, he says my name.

  "Eli?" I ask, becoming more concerned with every passing second.

  "I’m fine," he finally croaks out.

  “I made you breakfast,” I proudly say.

  "Thanks, baby." He sounds defeated. I'd trade places and experience being miserable all over again if that’d mean he didn’t have to. Though I want to go inside his room and be with him, I walk away. As I'm near the bottom step, I hear the door open, then click closed.

  Knowing I need to keep myself busy, I disinfected the entire cabin again. After three hours of scrubbing, spraying, and wiping, I’m finally done and sweating. Though Eli told me to take it easy, I can’t stop obsessing about making sure everything’s clean. I quickly take another shower, then grab my laptop and try to catch up on the previous two weeks of assignments I missed.

  Several professors emailed and asked about my health, along with some of my classmates. It takes a while, but I reply to everyone and explain I’m okay. Afterward, I go through my writing assignments and finish some homework that’s due at the end of the week.

  I’m so distracted, and it’s hard to stay focused. Bruno jumps on the couch and rests his head on my thigh just as Chanel prances by and sits in front of the enormous window. The hours pass, and I try my best to make something for lunch but resort to microwave meals. I'm sure Eli will understand, considering my cooking experience. Dinner’s the same. He doesn’t complain, though I suspect he’s not too hungry anyway.

  I text Kendall and update her on everything. The conversation isn’t a happy one, and she tries her best to comfort me as she listens to my fears. I’m so thankful to have her in my life through the good, bad, and ugly.

  After I eat and get some reading done, I try to fall asleep but struggle with knowing he’s suffering. The virus attacked him quicker than it did for me, and I don’t know what to do. I text Ryan, hoping he replies and gives me a glimmer of hope, then I force myself to close my eyes.

  The next two days are the same routine. I clean, cook, and worry. The worst is still to come, and I’m on high alert, constantly checking to make sure he’s still breathing.

  On day four, I'm more concerned than I've ever been. The news only magnifies my anxiety.

  Just as Ryan enters my mind, my phone rings. I hurry and answer.

  "How are you?" he asks, sounding like he got run over by a Mack truck.

  “I’m better. Not quite myself, but I’m getting there. I tire fairly quickly and still have somewhat of a cough, but mostly, I'm okay."

  "I’m so glad to hear that. How's Eli?"

  I pause and release a deep breath, trying to stay positive so my brother doesn’t notice how concerned I am.

  "He's struggling, and I'm worried he's too stubborn to say he needs anything."

  "How do you know?"

  "He's gasping and coughing; the kind of deep cough that’s buried in your chest. He's using his inhaler, but it’s not helping very much. I’m desperate."

  “If he’s rapidly declining, you should call the hotline and get him to the hospital. I'm not saying that to stress you out more, but to get him help before he progresses too far."

  “I will as soon as we hang up," I say, knowing they won't let just anyone walk in and get tested. If I would've called for myself, they would've told me to stay isolated. Will it be the same for Eli, too?

  The line is silent for a few seconds. "When this is all over, if I ever complain about working seventy-hour weeks or bitch about being too tired, you have permission to kick my ass," he orders. “Because I’d be happy to only be working that much right now.”

  "Same, oh my God, same," I agree, feeling bad that he’s probably working over a hundred hours right now. “And if I ever complain about not knowing what to order for takeout, kick mine. I didn’t realize how good I had it until delivery was no longer an option.”

  Ryan chuckles and agrees with me. “Did you hear Dad and Mom donated a few million to a relief fund to help the hospitals in the city get more medical supplies and the proper masks?” Ryan asks. “It’s been reported on the news, and people are posting articles about it. I've had so many of my colleagues thank me with tears in their eyes. I'm kinda taken aback since I had nothing to do with it.”

  "Well, that doesn't surprise me. You're loved and appreciated either way." I smile, hoping he understands how true that is.

  "Or rather, our parents love a great PR stunt," he mumbles. "Though I’m grateful and we desperately needed it, they could’ve made it anonymous and donated without the family name attached to it, you know? But they wanted the recognition, so I got dragged into it. They flashed my picture across the screen a dozen times. You know I don't want that kind of attention," he says. "I'm here doing my job because it’s what I’m passionate about."

  "I'm sure it wasn't like that, though. They’re proud of you," I say. "I am too, Ryan. Though I worry about you."

  “I'm more worried about you and Eli, and I’m pissed I can’t be there for you guys," he says.

  "Your patients need you, and I'm better now. I won't let anything happen to your best friend. I care about him a lot."

  “I know you do. This weird love-hate thing you two have has been going on for years. I was wondering when you’d both get over it.”

  I chuckle. “Right? Too bad it took this long to realize it, but honestly, I’ve never felt this way about a guy before.”

  “Eli’s in love with you,” he tells me matter-of-factly. “Please don’t break his heart.”

  Wait, what? I blink hard at his words, my throat dry for a completely different reason now. Ryan blurts that out with ease, as if he has no doubt about it.

  “Hurting him is the last thing I’d ever want to do,” I say truthfully. “This past month has been a game-changer for me. I’m falling for him, too.”

  “Honestly, it’s about goddamn time.” He chuckles. “Take care, okay? Keep me updated.”

  “I’ll do my best. I gotta call and check in with Mom, too.” I’ve been texting her because she wants to have full-on conversations, and I was too tired for that.

  “Don’t forget to call the hotline. See what they say based on his symptoms.”

  “I will as soon as we hang up,” I reassure him. We say our goodbyes, then I look up the number.

  Little did I know how much of a disaster it would be.

  The phone rings; I’m put on hold, then get disconnected. I'm not a quitter, so I call back, get transferred again, and hung up on after thirty minutes of waiting. Four hours of my time are wasted because I get nowhere, and I'm so goddamn frustrated that I can’t contain my aggravation.

  I busy myself at the stove and attempt to cook hamburgers. When I remove the meat from the frying pan, it’s burnt. Bruno’s at my feet, and I pinch off
a piece from the patty and fling it to him. He sniffs it, then walks off without eating it.

  "Great," I whisper. "The dog won’t eat it, and he more than likely eats poop."

  I heat a frozen pasta meal, then take it upstairs to Eli.

  Not like it's anything new, but I sleep like shit, tossing and turning. Once I wake up and chug coffee, I attempt to cook more eggs. After another successful scramble plate, I deliver them to Eli, then call the hotline again. Determined to get through to someone today, I’m hoping since it's earlier, I won’t have as many issues. It takes two hours to speak with someone who’s knowledgeable.

  She asks me all the basic questions, the same ones people can find online to self-diagnose.

  "I'm sure I had it the past two weeks, and now he’s caught it. I'm more concerned because he's asthmatic."

  "Has his fever risen above 102?" she asks.

  I think back to all the times Eli has checked in with me. "No."

  "Is he showing signs of improvement?"

  "Compared to what?” I ask with a sigh, then continue before she can respond. “Listen, I just want you to be honest with me. What are the odds of him getting a test so we can know if it's the virus, flu, or something else?" I can only imagine how many people she speaks to daily who treat her like shit, so I try to rein in my frustration, but it's so damn hard.

  "It looks like they're only testing those who end up admitted and need lifesaving equipment. They aren’t testing everyone at this moment…"

  "Even for someone who shows all the symptoms and has asthma?" My words come out choked and harsher than I intend.

  "I wish I could give you better news. If your friend gets worse, call a local doctor to get a referral first. Otherwise, I'd stay inside and monitor him closely."

  The line is silent for a moment, and I thank the woman, then end the call. Tears pour down my cheeks, and I sob into my hands. My hands are tied, and there's nothing more I can do but watch him.

  The cabin’s clean, the pets are fed, and now I'm lonely. I walk upstairs and knock on Eli's door, wanting his company. I sit on the floor and wait, placing my back against the wood.