Now panic begins to set in, and wrinkles form on her forehead. “What?” She’s already trying to peek over my shoulder, and all we hear is the television on.
I grimace. “We got home, and spots started to appear. I already phoned the pediatrician. What are the chances you’ve had chickenpox?”
Her jaw drops. “No,” she gasps, but seems unsurprised. “I knew there was a chance after one of the other daycare kids had it.”
“Call me a doctor, but are you sure you’ve had it or the shot before?”
“Yeah, I have. Wait, I think I have. I’m sure my parents mentioned.” She seems to be doubting herself.
“I’m positive that if you haven’t, then this is a no-enter zone for you, so you may want to double-check.”
She pushes me to the side. “I don’t care.”
But I grab her wrist and reel her back to me and give her a pointed stare. “Elodie, adults getting chickenpox is dangerous.Let’s not put you at risk. It’s the last thing we need. Listen to me as the older and wiser one. Can’t you call your mom and ask?”
She seems annoyed but then wrestles with herself because she grasps that I’m right. “Yeah.”
I smile softly in reassurance. “I’ve asked downstairs to send someone for that oatmeal bath stuff, and apparently there is some spray. It should be here soon. You can call your mom and go check downstairs,” I suggest.
Elodie blows out a long breath. “You’re right.” She still attempts to get a view and stands on her tiptoes. “Is she crying a lot?”
“She’s doing well, actually. Just watching cartoons with Bagel and Berry.”
She mopes back into the hallway. “Wait, how did you know all of the things to get?”
“The internet. It’s called the internet,” I wryly reply, and she gives me the tiniest of smiles before she heads to the elevator.
I return to the living room to see Lola now sleeping. Switching off the television, I kneel down, sit on the edge of the couch, and tuck the blanket around her and her animals.Watching her is one of my favorite pastimes. She always has this tiny snore. I hope all of her dreams are good ones.
Five minutes later, I hear the faint click of the front door, and soon after, Elodie appears in the living room carrying a bag. She stalls and a half-smile shades her face as she looks on at the scene.
“All in the clear then?” I say in a low voice.
Her free hand comes to her heart. “Thank goodness, yeah. She’s sleeping?”
I nod. “Out like a light.”
She holds up the bag as she approaches us. “Your list… I’m positive new coloring books weren’t a necessity.” She leans down and grabs a few throw pillows, carefully placing them around Lola. I now understand that she is creating an extra safety area on the already giant sofa. The back of her fingers very faintly feather Lola’s cheeks before swiping her hair to her side. “She isn’t too warm,” she whispers.
“A little more than normal, no?”
“Mmhmm. Come on,” she tells me and indicates with her head. When we reach the kitchen area of my open-plan living room, her steps slow, and she spins to perch on the opposite kitchen counter. Her eyes flick up to meet mine as her lips purse.
“What’s first on the agenda? Oat bath?” I ask.
“When she wakes, I’ll take her home.” She means it harmlessly, but I don’t like it.
I take a few calculated steps closer to her.Enough distance between us, but not enough to be free from danger. “No,” I inform her firmly.
Elodie seems taken aback. “No?”
“It makes zero sense to move her right now. She has her own room here.”
Her lips roll in, and she glances to the side, away from my daggered eyes on her. “She hasn’t slept over yet, her room is new, too.”It’s almost inaudible.She is internally weighing her options.
But I have only one option to choose from. “You are sleeping over, too.”
Her eyes nearly bug out. “What?”
