by Ashlee Price
I give him a wide grin. "Wow, you impress me with your concoction, Doctor."
He grins in turn.
I glance at the bowl. "Let's hope it tastes as good as it sounds and smells."
"You'll see." Dustin scoops a spoonful of the chicken soup and lifts the spoon. "Say 'ah'."
My eyebrows bunch up. "I can feed myself, you know. My hands are still working perfectly fine."
"But you need to rest," he tells me.
"I'm not going to get tired from eating."
He puts the spoon back in the bowl and narrows his eyes at me. "Are doctors really such terrible patients?"
I pause. "Yes."
There's no denying it. I've seen a few doctors biting nurses' heads off from hospital beds and even telling their doctors what to do. Why, one surgeon even tried to tell his surgeon how to operate on him just because he was conscious on the table.
I think it's because we hate being on the other side. We devote ourselves to helping others get better, so when we're the ones not feeling so good, we can't stand it. The worst part is that we can't treat ourselves and we can hardly trust others to do it. We can't stand being in a hospital bed or on an operating table when we know how it feels to be standing over them. We can't stand feeling helpless, completely at the mercy of others. We're just not used to being on the other side.
"Just let me take care of you, okay?" Dustin asks me. "You may be a doctor, but you are also my wife. It's my job to take care of you."
Right. I seem to forget that sometimes.
"Besides," he adds. "Even doctors need to be taken care of when they're sick. You may be a doctor, but you're still human."
That's it - when we're doctors, we feel like gods. When we're patients, we feel human. What god would not detest being made to feel human?
Dustin lifts the spoon and brings it closer to my lips. "Say 'ah'."
This time, I open my mouth. He pushes the spoon past my lips. The soup goes down my throat.
"Good?" Dustin asks as he pulls the spoon away.
I nod. The flavor's just right, in fact. It's salty. It's sour. It's minty. It's spicy. It's warm and soothing. It's perfect.
He lets me have another spoonful.
After I swallow it, I ask him, "Who taught you how to cook?"
"The cook," he answers. "I used to spend a lot of time in the kitchen."
"Why?"
"Arthur is allergic to garlic so he doesn't go to the kitchen. We used to tease him and say that he's a vampire. Sidney used to be something of a cleanaholic. He thought kitchens had lots of germs, more so than bathrooms. Greg simply wasn't interested in food. In short, the three of them didn't often wander into the kitchen, so it makes sense that I'd spend a lot of time there."
I nod.
Poor Dustin, to have brothers and yet not get along with them.
He feeds me a few more spoonfuls in silence. When I start to cough from the chili, he hands me a glass of water. I hold on to it as he continues feeding me. Eventually, I hear the spoon scrape the bottom of the bowl.
"Are we almost done?" I ask.
"Last one," he says.
He pushes the spoon past my lips one last time. It seems to be too full, though, and some of the soup trickles out the corner of my mouth and down my chin. Before I can wipe it off, Dustin does. He presses the table napkin in his hand to my chin and then gently passes it over my lower lip.
Even through the paper, I can feel his thumb on my lip. The fact that he's gazing straight into my eyes doesn't help. In fact, I can feel my temperature spiking. I'm melting under those dark brown eyes.
Finally, Dustin lets go of my gaze. He pulls his hand away and gets off the bed.
"Finish your water," he tells me. "Then get some sleep."
I lift the glass to my lips. After I finish its contents, I hand it to him and lie down. To my surprise, Dustin tucks me in. He pulls the blanket up to my chin. I find myself blushing when he presses his lips to my warm forehead. My heart stops.
"Sleep well."
~
I wake up from a nightmare.
I sit up with a jolt, my hand over my racing heart. Sweat clings to my back beneath my sweater. My shoulders tremble. My breath comes in gasps.
As I wait for my breathing and my heart rate to slow down, I try to remember my dream. The details are fading fast, the cobwebs of sleep washing away, but I do remember that Dustin was in it, and sadness still weighs heavily on my chest.
I clutch the front of my shirt.
Dustin was leaving me. He was leaving me and I was powerless to stop him. And it hurt. It still does.
Suddenly, the door opens. Dustin steps in. When he sees the state I'm in, he rushes to the bed.
"Marian?"
He sits on the bed and pulls me into his arms. They feel nice. They make me feel... safe. Before I can think, my arms wrap around him. My cheek presses against his chest and his warmth and his scent put my mind at ease. My hands trap fistfuls of his shirt.
"Are you okay?" he asks as he rubs my back. "You're shaking and sweating."
"I'm fine," I say as I pull away slowly. "I just had a bad dream is all."
I don't even know why I had that dream. Then again, I know people tend to have bad dreams when they're running a fever.
Dustin's hand goes to my forehead. "Your fever has gone down."
"Yeah. I think so."
"But you're sweating," he says again. "Let's get you changed."
He turns the knob on the bedside table so that more light spills out from under the shade, then he walks over to the closet.
"Any particular shirt you want?" he asks me.
"Just grab the one on top of the pile," I answer.
He returns with a maroon and grey UMass shirt.
"This one good?"
I nod.
He looks at it. "I didn't know you went to UMass."
I haven't told him? I guess there are still things we don't know about each other.
"Why? Don't tell me of all the college girls you slept with, none of them was from UMass."
He shrugs. I can't tell if he doesn't remember or he just doesn't want to answer the question.
"I went to UMass then Duke," I inform him. "You?"
"MIT."
My eyebrows arch. Wow. Now I'm convinced he's a tech genius.
"Want me to help you change?" he asks.
I take the shirt from him. "I'll do it. I need to go to the bathroom anyway."
He offers me a hand but I wave it off.
"I'm fine now."
I head to the bathroom. When I get back out, Dustin is no longer there. For a moment, worry seizes me. Then the door opens. The sight of him fills me with relief.
"I just went to get you water," he says. "Don't you need to take your medicine? That's actually why I dropped by - to remind you."
I glance at the clock near the door. "Right."
Besides, I'm thirsty.
I take the glass of water from his hand and gulp down about half its contents. Then I take my medicine and finish the other half. Afterwards, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
"Thank you," I tell him.
"Want me to turn the A/C up as well?" he asks.
I sit on the edge of the bed. "No. I'm fine."
"Okay." He heads towards the door.
He's leaving already?
"Um..."
"Yeah?" Dustin turns around.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I was thinking of not sleeping yet. You know, I'm not ready to have another nightmare just yet. Also, I think I've already slept a lot today."
I lift my head to meet his gaze.
"Do you want to watch a movie with me?"
His eyebrows furrow. "Is it going to be a romantic movie?"
I shrug. "It doesn't have to be."
"Okay." He comes back to the bed.
We settle in under the covers. For a moment, I regret my invitation as I realize we're sharing a bed for the first time. I comfort myself with
the thought that he won't try to seduce me because I'm sick, but just to make sure, I put a huge pillow between us.
I grab the remote and turn on the TV then Netflix. I haven't picked a movie yet, though - I just can't make up my mind - when I hear soft, even breathing beside me.
I turn my head and my eyebrows arch.
Dustin is already asleep?
Well, it's late, after all, and I'm sure he's tired. Even if he's not working, he's been taking the dogs for walks and playing with them. He's been cooking. He hits the gym in the basement. He tinkers with stuff all around the house. Plus, he's been taking care of me all day.
That last thought brings a smile to my lips.
I don't remember the last time someone took care of me when I was sick. I got a few bad colds back in college, but Liam and I weren't living together yet. I think that was mostly because my apartment was old and a bit moldy. Well, Hal took care of me once when I was down with a bad case of the flu, and of course there was my Mom, but that was an eternity ago.
I guess Dustin is taking his husband duties seriously. What's more, we've only been together for a few weeks, but I already think he makes a great husband.
As I stare at his features, I find myself taken back to the time I first saw him. He was sleeping then, too, or pretending to. So much has happened since then. Still, I'm just as enthralled as I was that first time, maybe more now that I've had the chance to know the person behind the face.
I suddenly have the urge to kiss his wide forehead just beneath his stringy hair, but I shake it off.
What am I thinking? Forehead kisses are tokens of affection, adoration even. At least, they are for me. When he kissed me on the forehead earlier, it might have been just an innocent gesture to show that he cared about me or that he wanted me to get better. But for me, it means something more.
So why am I thinking of kissing him on the forehead? Does it mean I'm in love with him?
The realization takes me by so much surprise that for a second, I can't breathe. Then I shake my head.
No. Impossible. My fever probably messed up my head.
Still, as I stay on my side of the bed and pick the next movie that comes up on the screen, I can't help but wonder why I had that dream about Dustin or why my heart is still racing.
~
"What's wrong?" Dustin asks me as he pours me a cup of coffee in the morning. "I don't have mud on my face, do I?"
"No." I look away.
I didn't even know I was staring at him as I was eating my omelet.
"Hey." He pulls out the chair next to mine and sits on it. "Are you sure you're well enough to go back to work?"
"I'm sure," I tell him.
My throat is still a little sore, my voice still a bit raspy. But my headache and my fever are gone and I'm no longer sneezing as much.
"Okay. If you say so, Doctor." He gets off the chair. "I guess I was just thinking it would be nice if we could spend another day together."
I blush.
"We didn't really get to watch that movie in bed."
"I did," I say as I shove another forkful of omelet into my mouth. "And it's not my fault you fell asleep."
"Some other time, then?"
I look at him then quickly look away when I see him giving me that charming smile.
"We'll see."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Dustin puts his hand on my forehead before I can stop him. "Your forehead seems a little warm."
"I'm fine." I push his hand away.
"Your face looks a little red, too."
I frown, then cough. "Maybe that's because this omelet is too spicy."
"It's spicy?"
I put down my fork and grab my cup of coffee. "Next time, taste what you cook before you serve it."
"Wow. You didn't have any complaints about my cooking yesterday."
"Yeah. Clearly, I'm better now."
Dustin frowns. "I think I liked it better when you were sick."
I say nothing.
"You even looked sexy when you were shaking and sweaty, even more so when you were drenched. You were hot literally and figuratively."
I glare at him over my cup of coffee.
And here I thought he'd changed. But no. He's still a jerk who thinks of nothing but sex.
I shake my head before finishing my coffee.
Yup, it was just the fever talking back then, because now that I'm better, I can say this for sure: I'm definitely not in love with Dustin Montgomery.
Chapter Eighteen
Dustin
"Surprise, Dustin Montgomery!" Candace shouts as soon as I open the front door.
My eyebrows arch, then go even higher as I see who else is in front of my house. Just her would have been surprise enough - or maybe not since I knew she wouldn't be able to resist dropping by - but this - my brothers and Greg's wife and kids and their nanny? Unbelievable.
"Why does he look like that?" Art asks. "He's not going to collapse, too, is he?"
I feel like I might.
"I think he's just in shock," Greg says.
"He looks like he's seen a ghost," says his daughter. She's the younger of his two kids, but I can't remember her name or age.
"Zoe," Renee warns her.
Right. Zoe.
"Aren't you going to let us inside your new house?" Sidney asks me.
I narrow my eyes at him. "Aren't you supposed to be working? I mean, you just had surgery, so don't you have a lot of work to catch - ?"
"Yes, he just had surgery, so he's taking a break," Candace says.
I'm guessing that was her idea.
I turn to Art. "And you?"
He pats the laptop bag hanging from his shoulder. "I brought my work with me."
"So did I," Greg says.
Renee turns to him with a glare. "I thought we agreed you'd be taking a break."
"Honey, you know I've got work - "
"Have someone else do the work for once," she cuts him off, rolling her eyes. "There's no point having your own law firm if you still do all the work. Isn't that right, Dustin?"
I don't answer because I don't want to get caught up in that argument.
"I'm not doing all the work," Greg argues. "Just the important stuff."
"To you, everything is important. Except your family."
Their son, the older child whose name I can't remember either, glances up at him.
Greg frowns. "That's not - "
I clear my throat. "So what are you all doing here? It's not Christmas, is it? Or Thanksgiving?"
Though even then, I'd be surprised to see all of them.
"Can't you let us in first?" Art asks. "I need to send an e-mail."
"We're here to see you and your new house, of course," Candace says.
"And your wife," Sidney adds. "Candace told me she's the daughter of Dr. Stevens."
"And to congratulate you on your recent marriage, of course," Renee pipes in.
"Well, thank you," I tell her before turning to the rest of them. "And now you've seen me and the house. As for my wife, she's not home. She's at the hospital."
"Can we go see her there?" Sidney asks.
"No." I shake my head. "Absolutely not."
Zoe's eyebrows furrow. "Why not?"
I have a feeling that's her automatic response to anyone who tells her no.
"Because she's busy saving lives and you'd all just get in her way," I answer.
"She's not the only one who's busy." Art glances at his watch. "Can you just get out of the way so I can - "
"We can see Marian later," Candace speaks up. "For now, I think we're all tired and would all just like to rest, Sidney especially. Like you said, he did just recently go through heart surgery."
I tap my fingers on the door. Is she trying to make me feel guilty just so I'll let them all in?
"Can we just come in?" Zoe asks. "I need to pee."
"Surely you're not going to send us away," Greg says.
"Are you going to sue me if I do?" I ask him
.
"We're your family, Dustin," Candace reminds me.
Like I don't know that.
"Dustin, just let us in," Sidney says.
"Oh, for God's sakes, let me in this minute or I'm going to a hotel," Art demands.
Always making demands.
"You're not keeping another woman in there, are you?" Renee looks at me suspiciously.
Candace gasps.
"No," I say. "Just two dogs, and they're both male."
"You got dogs?" Greg asks.
"I love dogs," his son speaks for the first time.
"I need to pee," Zoe repeats.
I let out a sigh and step back. "Fine."
I guess I can't really turn them away. Besides, I do have spare rooms, plus there's plenty of food in the pantry.
Art enters the house first, followed by Zoe and her nanny.
"The library is to your right," I direct. "You can work there. The nearest bathroom is to your left, near the stairs."
They scurry off.
"Wow. This place is huge," Sidney remarks as he looks around.
"What? Candace didn't tell you about it?" I ask him. "I thought it was your wedding present."
"I did tell him," Candace says. "That's why he wanted to see it."
"To see if I deserve it? Or to see if it's bigger than his so he can build a bigger one?"
She frowns.
"It's beautiful." Renee runs her fingers across a table. "The furniture, too."
"Where are the dogs?" her son asks softly.
Renee ruffles his hair. "Otis likes dogs."
Otis?
"They're in the basement," I say. "I was watching a movie downstairs before you guys arrived."
"They're inside the house?" Candace looks at me in horror.
"Don't worry," I say. "They're behaved when they're inside."
"And when they're outside?" Otis asks.
"Not so much."
Candace frowns again.
I offer Otis my hand. "Would you like to come see them?"
He nods.
"They're vaccinated, right?" Renee asks me. "And they don't bite?"
"Of course they do," Greg tells her. "All dogs bite."
Renee puts her hands on her hips. "What I meant, genius, was - "
I stop listening to their argument. Instead, I grab Otis's hand and pull him away. I figure he doesn't want to listen to them either. Besides, I think I need a break from the rest of them right now.
~