Page 110 of Once Upon a Fall

“You’re welcome.”

She takes a sip, her eyes looking droopy again. “Why are you here, though? You’re supposed to be in Manhattan.”

“I’ll stay until you’re better,” I say.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be better,” she says. “This could be the end.”

I smile. At least she’s sounding more like herself.

I sleep on her couch again that night, checking her fever, which spikes again, and making her drink more water.

The next morning, I give some tips to a couple staying in the Rapunzel room who are looking for a place to eat breakfast, and tell the other couple the best places to still see the changing leaves.

Then I have my first video meeting with the company in Manhattan. It goes better than I’d hoped for.

Between the other client meetings, I check on Rosie, let her argue with me about how she can take care of herself, and still manage to make sure everything at the inn is running smoothly.

Tonight I’ll sleep on an uncomfortable couch again, while making sure a stubborn woman gets enough sleep and fluids so she can get better.

And try not to think about how easy it all feels.

Rosie

The princess came down with the flu. She was, as expected, a terrible patient.

I have no idea how long I’ve been in this bed. A day? A week? A year?

It feels like an eternity since I could function like a real person.

Oh, how I miss my health. Those were the good old days.

Last night, I woke up soaked and freezing in my bed. And a fairy came and changed my sheets. And tucked me back in.

That’s what I’m telling myself. Not that Dean has been sleeping on the couch in my room and has been waking me up to check my temperature and forcing me to drink and eat.

Nope. I maintain it’s been a magical fairy making sure I’m okay.

Because Dean is supposed to be in Manhattan. Not taking care of me and the inn.

I have words I’d like to say to him. I’ve had many fever-induced dreams about it. Mostly variations of Why are you still here? and You’re supposed to be in Manhattan. There may also have been one or two involving Don’t ever leave me, but I’m blaming the fever for those.

“Hey,” he says, his hand pressing lightly against my forehead. “You’re warm again.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him.

I try to sit up, and the world spins. I’m not fine. He shakes his head, his lips pulled straight.

“The straight line of disapproval,” I say, but it comes out groggy-sounding.

He chuckles. “You need to eat something.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I kind of am right now.”

“Fine,” I say.

He helps prop me up on some pillows and then hands me a bowl of chicken soup. Soup I’m pretty sure Emma brought last night. Bless Emma. I don’t know for sure if it was her. Everything seems hazy right now. Like I’m in a dream sequence.