Coming Back To You

by Lynne, Donya

  She put the cap back on the bowl. “You want them?” She held the container toward him.

  “Don’t you want to take them home and eat them yourself?”

  “Not really.”

  He gently plucked the container from her hand. “Bring back bad memories, do they?”

  “Something like that.”

  They stood in silence for several seconds. What had started out as a crappy evening had turned out all right. She was full, her headache was almost gone, and she had a smile on her face.

  “Don’t think I’m not on to you, Strong,” she said, shutting the passenger door and pointing a warning finger at him as she started around to the driver’s side.

  “Me? Whatever do you mean?” Damn that sexy smile and the man that went with it.

  “You know what I mean.” He was working his way back into her life. Or at least trying to. And yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to be mad at him for it. In fact, she kind of enjoyed the attention. “Enjoy the truffles. Oh, and I want my bowl back.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He lifted the container in acknowledgement.

  With an exasperated shake of her head, she got in her car and, with one last glance Mark’s way, pulled out of her parking space and toward the exit. By the time she pulled into her apartment complex, she was tapping her fingers on the steering wheel and singing along with the song on the radio.

  Chapter 24

  The next few weeks proved unable to mend the broken fence between her and Brad. Karma wanted him to see the double standard he was setting and how he was enabling Jade to continue disrespecting her, and Brad couldn’t see either.

  To make matters worse, Brad had asked her to join him and Jade on a trip to Florida during Jade’s fall break from school only to renege the offer. He and Jade planned on visiting his parents during the two-week trip, and Karma was supposed to spend the first week with them. Get to meet the future in-laws type stuff.

  Nix that. After Jade’s outburst at the zoo, Brad thought it would be better if he and Jade went alone. He claimed he could smooth things over better that way and thought the time together would help soften Jade to the idea of him marrying Karma.

  So, instead of packing her bags and heading off to the airport for a week in sunny Florida, Karma had cancelled her vacation and now sat on her couch, eating a banana, watching reruns of Miami Vice on an overcast and chilly mid-October Saturday afternoon.

  Not the view of Miami she’d hoped for, but it would have to do.

  Around eight o’clock, she started sneezing.

  By nine, her throat was sore.

  By ten, she was running a one-hundred-degree fever and rising.

  Great. Maybe she should have kept her vacation on Solar’s books. Looked like she was coming down with one helluva cold.

  By Sunday morning, she no longer thought it was a cold. This was full-on flu.

  Her body felt like a train had run over it ten times, her chest was as congested as a Los Angeles freeway, and her fever spiked to one hundred three.

  She wasn’t much better Monday morning and called in sick.

  Tuesday, she seriously considered drowning in the bathtub as she took yet another Epsom salt bath in an effort to coax the germs out of her body.

  On Wednesday morning, she felt a little better, so she dragged herself to work.

  Big mistake. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she was out of breath and sweating profusely. Maybe that meant her fever had finally broken.

  Or not.

  At her desk, she blew her nose and tried focusing on her e-mail through a blurry cloud.

  “Karma?”

  She glanced up as a coughing fit seized her. Mark was standing at her counter, a look of concern on his face.

  “Good mordink.” She sounded like a bullfrog with a plugged-up nose.

  “Oh, no, no, no.” He flicked his hand toward her. “You’re going home.”

  Home sounded good. Real good. Especially her bed or the couch or even the floor, as long as she could lay down.

  “I’m…ah…ah…AH-CHOO! Fine.”

  He shook his head. “You are not fine. You’re sick.” He walked around her desk and placed his hand on her forehead. “And you’re burning up. How long have you had this fever?”

  She had to think a second. Brain processes weren’t high on her body’s priorities under an apocalypse of germ warfare. “Since…” sniffle, “Saturday.”

  “Shut off your computer.” He took a step back and waited. “Come on. Turn it off.”

  “Mark.” His name came out sounding like Bark.

  “I’m taking you to the doctor. Let’s go.” He picked up her bags and nodded toward the hallway.

  Part of her didn’t want to be treated like a baby, but the other part of her just wanted to suck her thumb like one. There was something calming about someone else taking control of her life for a change, because right now, trying to get from day to day was wearing her down. That was probably why she was so sick. She’d let herself get run down. She’d let the stress of what was going on with Brad and Jade mutilate her immune system.

  Only half reluctantly, she shut down her computer, stood, and let Mark help her down the stairs. She was so damn weak.

  “Nancy, I’m taking Karma to the urgent care facility,” he said to the receptionist as he passed her desk. “Could you please cancel my meetings and take messages from anyone looking for me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’ll call in later.”

  Nancy swooshed them out the door.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Karma said as he loaded her into the passenger seat of his car and tossed her bags in back.

  He didn’t have to, but she was grateful he was.

  He climbed behind the wheel. “I know, but I’m going to anyway. So, just relax and let me handle everything, okay?”

  Fine. She would let him handle it. She closed her eyes and leaned her blazing forehead against the cool glass. Somehow, she dozed off, waking up as Mark pulled into a parking space at the local MedCheck and shut off the engine.

  Once again, he helped her out and guided her inside.

  Another coughing fit hit her, and she could barely stay upright as the spasms doubled her over.

  The lady behind the desk took one look and knew Karma’s ailment wasn’t good. Luckily, the place wasn’t busy, and within minutes, Mark practically carried her back to an exam room.

  After a nurse took her vitals and made a few notes about Karma’s symptoms, she left the room. Mark sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He felt good. Solid. A pillar of strength keeping her upright.

  She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. If only she’d stayed home and not tried to go to work.

  “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered against her hair, rocking her as he caressed her face.

  Her body relaxed, and she snuggled a little closer.

  A few minutes later, the doctor came in.

  Karma gently pushed away from Mark’s body.

  “I’m Dr. Kane,” he said with a smile.

  “Hi.” Just one syllable was enough to send her into another coughing spasm.

  “That doesn’t sound good. How about you have a seat up here for me.” He patted the white tissue paper covering the examination table.

  She did as he asked, and he slipped his stethoscope up the back of her shirt and asked her to take several deep breaths.

  After listening for a few seconds, he placed his stethoscope around his neck.

  He continued to examine her then sat down. She took her seat back beside Mark.

  “I don’t hear anything that would indicate pneumonia, just a bad case of the flu,” Dr. Kane said. “We’ve been seeing a lot this over the past few weeks. The violent coughing is caused by bronchospasms. I’m going to prescribe an inhaler that should help relax the bronchioles and put a stop to that.”

  “What about the fever?” Mark asked.

  “Tylenol, l
ots of rest, lots of fluids, and cold compresses.”

  “That’s it?” Mark’s arm was back around her shoulders. “No antibiotics?”

  The doctor smiled. “Antibiotics won’t help this. It’s a virus. But, of course, if your wife gets worse, that may indicate a secondary infection, which could require antibiotics, but right now, I think she’s just dealing with a bad case of the standard flu.”

  “Okay, Thanks.” Mark took the inhaler prescription and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

  Wait. Rewind. What? Had the doctor just referred to her as Mark’s wife?

  A few minutes later, as she sat in the passenger seat of Mark’s car, she glanced across the seat. “He called me your wife.”

  “I know. I caught that.” He backed out of the parking space.

  “You didn’t correct him.”

  He kept his eyes forward, but Karma caught the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. “I didn’t think it was important enough to correct him.”

  * * *

  Mark had smiled when the doctor called Karma his wife. She hadn’t been looking at him at the time, so she missed his reaction, but something about someone else acknowledging how perfect they looked together was deeply gratifying.

  On the way back to her apartment, he swung by the store, and while she waited in the car, he dropped off her prescription at the pharmacy, grabbed some Tylenol and cold medicine, then grabbed the ingredients for homemade chicken soup before heading back to the pharmacy for her inhaler.

  “What’s all this?” she said as he loaded the groceries into the car. Poor thing sounded like someone had run sandpaper down her vocal chords.

  “I’m going to make you some soup.”

  “Mark—”

  “Hush. I’m going to do this, and you’re not going to stop me.” He handed her the white pharmacy bag containing her inhaler.

  She took it out and took two puffs, as Dr. Kane had instructed.

  Back at her apartment, he helped her up the stairs and carried her bags inside.

  “I’m going to go down and get the rest of the groceries. Why don’t you go change into your pajamas and get in bed. I’ll bring you some Tylenol and juice in a few minutes.”

  Without protest, she nodded and dragged herself toward the hall. Mark retrieved the groceries from the car, carried them into her kitchen, and dug out the bottle of Tylenol, along with one of the half-gallons of orange juice he’d bought. When he was sick, orange juice always made him feel better.

  “Here you go.” He pushed open her bedroom door and sat on the edge of the bed as she sat up. He placed the pills in her palm and watched her wash them down. Then he took the empty glass and set it on her desk as she lay back on her pillow.

  The desk hadn’t been here last summer. It had been in the spare bedroom.

  They’d shared a lot of special moments in this room. He’d held her in his arms, kissed her hair, made love to her. They’d talked about so many things here, some important, some fanciful. In this bed, they’d laughed with one another, he’d kissed away her tears, and he’d experienced the most incredible physical connection he’d ever felt with a woman.

  Memories he thought he’d forgotten surged to life. How he’d lain with her in his arms and stared at the seascape on the opposite wall, wishing they were there…on vacation…years from now…celebrating their anniversary.

  He brushed his fingers over her sweltering forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

  Her eyes were already closed.

  He quietly shut her bedroom door behind him and peeked into the spare room where her desk used to be. There was a treadmill in there now, along with a professional-grade spin bike. She’d been busy while he’d been away.

  On a bookcase beside one of the windows, he found all the books he’d had her read stacked on one of the shelves. He picked up the one she’d called the papaya book and flipped through the pages.

  The memories continued to rush through him. Their first kiss. The first time he’d made love to her. Her incredible innocence and the way she had grown into a confident, sexual woman by the time their affair ended.

  Being here again was both gratifying and heartbreaking. He didn’t want to be alone, anymore, but he didn’t want anyone but Karma to quell his loneliness. If only she would see how bad Brad was for her and how good they could be together.

  Setting the book back on the shelf, he left the room and returned to the kitchen.

  Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of their time together. She was sitting across from him at the breakfast bar, eating the brownie he’d bought her the night she’d opened up about her past. She was at the table, her face crimson as he opened the case of four dildos he’d bought for her to prepare herself for his girth. She stood in front him at the sink, filling a vase with water for the flowers he’d brought her.

  Karma’s breathtaking image was everywhere he looked, even though she lay in bed, feverish, sick, and—hopefully—asleep.

  Which meant he needed to get busy making his flu-busting homemade chicken soup.

  Now, where was the soup pan?

  * * *

  Karma awoke and checked the time. Seven o’clock. Was that seven in the morning or seven at night? She glanced out the window. It looked like night.

  Dragging herself out of bed, she made a pit stop in her bathroom, splashed cool water on her face, blew her nose, and brushed her teeth. She didn’t feel quite as bad as she had earlier, but not by much. Instead of being run over by a train, she felt like it had only been a large truck.

  Every joint ached as she tucked her box of Kleenex under her arm, padded in her socked feet to the bedroom door, and stepped into the hall.

  Mark looked up from his perch on the couch, his laptop sitting—appropriately enough—in his lap, his shoeless feet propped on the coffee table.

  He sat up and set his laptop on the table. “How do you feel?” He stood and met her halfway across the living room.

  “A little better.” But her voice still sounded like death.

  “You want some soup and crackers?”

  She nodded. Soup sounded good. So did crackers.

  “Have a seat. I’ll fix you a bowl.”

  She collapsed onto the couch and turned on Wheel of Fortune.

  Mark returned with a large bowl of steaming goodness and a plate of what looked like Chicken in a Biscuit crackers. She loved those things.

  “Here you go.” He handed her the soup and set the plate on the arm of the couch.

  She hugged the bowl of hot soup to her chest and spooned up a bite. After blowing across the surface so it didn’t scald her mouth, she slurped it up. Even though she couldn’t taste anything, the broth and tender chunk of chicken felt delicious.

  He sat down beside her.

  “Aren’t you going to eat any?” she said, nibbling the corner off a cracker.

  “I already ate a little while ago. Besides, I made this for you.”

  “Oh.” She sucked in another spoonful of broth.

  “Finding a road map,” he said.

  “Huh?” She looked up to find him pointing at the TV.

  “The puzzle.”

  She glanced at Wheel of Fortune, and sure enough, even though some letters were missing, Finding a Road Map was the solution.

  “Good job.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a gift.”

  “It is, is it?”

  “Not really, but it sounded good, right?” His army green eyes flashed to hers.

  “If you say so.” She ate another bite of soup. “This is really good. You made it from scratch?”

  “Yep. Secret family recipe guaranteed to throw the flu right out of you.”

  She smiled and took another bite.

  Unlike Brad, Mark enjoyed cooking, and not from a box, a can, or a jar. And this stock was too rich to have been anything less than homemade.

  Glancing back to the TV, she continued eating her soup in silence. Then Mark returned her empty dishes to the
kitchen and spent the next ten minutes cleaning and putting away the leftovers.

  When he came back into the living room, he handed her a cherry Popsicle and sat down beside her.

  She stared at the Popsicle then smiled at him. “You really didn’t have to do this today. You went way over and beyond here.” He’d cancelled meetings and put off work just to take care of her.

  He ruffled her already unruly hair. “Just taking care of my assistant. She’s pretty darn important to me. I couldn’t do my job without her.”

  His words felt like they held a double meaning, and she suddenly wished she hadn’t sent out all those résumés a few weeks ago. She was beginning to think she might actually be able to pull off working for Mark. And there were other things she was beginning to think she could do with him, too.

  She didn’t really want to think about those other things right now, though. Because if she did, she would stress out over what exactly that meant, including figuring out what to do about the engagement ring on her finger, as well as what to do about Mark’s phobic aversion to commitment, which had left her hanging like rotting fruit on the branch last year.

  “You gonna be okay if I head out?” He was still dressed in his slacks and dress shirt, even though his sleeves were rolled up.

  She honestly didn’t want him to leave, but it probably wasn’t a good idea for him to stay.

  “I think so.”

  “Well, I’m only a phone call or text away if you need anything. And I mean that. If you need anything, call me. I don’t care what it is or if it’s three o’clock in the morning. Okay?”

  She sighed and offered a weak smile. “Okay, Dr. Strong.”

  He grinned. “And don’t you forget it.” He gathered his laptop and packed it into his bag then paused. “I know we’ve got a past, Karma, and I know you’re with someone else now, but I’d still like to think we’re friends.” His gaze met hers. “You can count on me if you need anything.”

  She briefly looked away then met his gaze again. So much about Mark was ideal. He was handsome, healthy, intelligent, successful. He was the kind of man every woman wanted. If only he could get out of his own way and allow himself to be happy.