Only when she approached the side of the bed, leaning down to kiss his cheek, did he manage to move, his need for Heather stronger than the weakness in his limbs.
He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her awkwardly to his chest. Needing to hold her. Needing to be held, just for a second.
She didn’t protest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his hot skin. “You’re burning up,” she said, sounding worried. “I should stay.”
“Nah, just get me a couple pills to combat the fever. I’m just going to sleep,” he said, still not releasing her.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered.
His eyes shut as he stroked her hair, but he didn’t say anything.
Finally he let his arm fall away, and she gave him a concerned look as she went into the bathroom and came back with two more pills. “This should help with the fever and the headache, but you need to make sure you’re getting enough fluids.”
Fluids wouldn’t help with what was ailing him, but he played along, rolling his eyes at her bossiness even as he agreed to follow her directions.
She went into the kitchen, and he watched in amusement as she put three water bottles on his nightstand. “I want those all to be gone by the time I get back,” she ordered.
“Can we put some whisky in them?” he asked hopefully.
She ignored him, leaning down and kissing his forehead. “I’ll be back soon. I hope.”
Josh said her name as she was about to leave the bedroom, and she glanced back expectantly, one hand on the doorjamb.
“Yeah?” she said.
Josh swallowed and it hurt. He wanted to tell her how he felt.
“I’m sorry about the Danica thing,” he said instead. Lame.
“Eh.” She lifted her shoulders. “It stings, but it’ll pass. Not life or death, you know?”
Oh, he knew. He definitely knew.
Josh waited until he heard her close the front door, waited until he heard the click of the lock before he forced himself to do what needed to be done.
Slowly, he lifted his hand to his throat, his fingers knowing exactly what to look for.
And he found it.
His hand fell back to the bed as he stared straight ahead, terror mingling with resignation. The sore throat, he could explain away. The headache, a relatively common ailment. Even the body aches and the fever—they happened, right? Grown men got that shit all the time.
But all that plus the fatigue of the past few weeks and the swollen lymph nodes in his neck?
Shit, hell, and fuck.
Josh threw the covers back, forcing his stiff limbs over the side of the bed as he walked toward the closet door where Heather had hung his suit the night before.
He found his cell phone in the breast pocket of his suit jacket and scrolled through his contacts until he found the one number he’d hoped he’d never have to call again.
Chapter Thirty
HOW MUCH PETTY CASH do the Belles keep on hand?” Heather said as she gratefully accepted the large mug of coffee Alexis handed her.
Her boss merely tilted her head in question.
“Bail money,” Heather said. “I’m thinking we may need it if and when I ever run into Danica Robinson on the street.”
“I’d sell the whole building if I had to,” Alexis said grimly. “This woman is dead to me.”
“Somehow it’s so much scarier when you say that than hearing it from anyone else,” Heather said, taking a gulp of the coffee. She’d been at the office for two hours now, and the caffeine from her first cup of coffee back at the apartment was starting to fade.
“I mean it,” Alexis said, crossing her arms. “We’ve had our fair share of called-off weddings, but never anything like this. Never anything so malicious and callous.”
“Yeah, well, lifestyles of the rich and famous and all that.”
“How are the vendors taking it?” Alexis asked, leaning against the door. She was wearing a pale lavender knit dress, her makeup impeccable as always, belying the fact that Heather knew full well she hadn’t gone to bed until the early hours of the morning, and had been awake by six given the time stamp on the texts she’d sent to Heather to break the news.
Heather waved her hand over the iPad and file folders on her desk. “Hardly anyone’s picking up. Damn holiday.”