Page 66 of The Naughty or Nice Deal

“Thanks. They are good people, including Dad. He’s not mean or anything, he just doesn’t always understand things. It comes from a place of genuine worry.”

“I understand that kind of concern. I wish my parents had worried about me even a fraction of that much. But they only ever cared about themselves.” I can’t quite keep the bitter edge out of my voice.

“You sound a little jealous.”

“I am,” I admit with a laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be. I’m so happy that you had all this, had this family. It’s just reminding me of everything I didn’t have. I didn’t have siblings, although I always wanted them. I guess I thought if I had them, they would love me and I would love them, and it would take some of the sting out of our parents not loving us.”

I sigh. “I think that’s why I stayed with Liam as long as I did. I just wanted to feel wanted, you know? For all the good that did me.”

Ford’s brows draw together. “You are wanted, Maeve.”

I’m startled by the conviction in his voice. I don’t know what to say to that.

Ford doesn’t elaborate. We just sit there in comfortable silence for a while. It’s not awkward—it’s actually pretty nice.

He gets up and helps me out of the tub before the water gets too cold. He even dries my hair for me, then helps me back into my robe before scooping me up and carrying me back to bed.

My eyelids feel incredibly heavy, and I’m asleep the second my head hits the pillow.

When I wake up the next morning, I’m feeling ten times better.

I stretch out in bed with a smile on my face. I was right—it was just a twenty-four-hour bug. I’m sure all the stress and confusion and excitement of the last few days helped trigger it. All I needed was rest and fluids.

How amazing it is to not feel nauseous! And to not ache all over! I’m never taking good health for granted again. I make myself that promise after every time I get sick.

Of course, all the other times I’ve been sick, I haven’t had such attentive caregivers. Or any caregivers at all, actually.

Sitting up, the extra blankets Ford brought me slide off. All the dishes have been cleared away at some point, although I vaguely remember seeing a pile of bowls on the nightstand yesterday. I can’t believe they remembered exactly what I like to eat when I’m sick. It’s always been too much work to skip going into the office when I’ve been ill before, so I would just splurge and order the soups I wanted to sip at my desk while bundled up and taking as much medicine as I could without making myself loopy. Miso soup is a perfect variation on chicken noodle—both clear and hearty—and the spicy Thai soup clears out your sinuses like nobody’s business.

All three of them took such incredible care of me. I don’t know what to make of it.

Well, now that I’m feeling better, I don’t want to miss out on anything. Especially not the meeting with Silver Start. I would never forgive myself if Ford brought me all the way out here and orchestrated this whole charade only for me to be sick at the crucial moment.

A shower helps me finish feeling like a real human being, and I strip the bed so I can take the sheets down to laundry. I’m sure Elaine has staff who handle this, and I don’t know where the spare linens are kept, but I want to do what I can.

Finally, I make it to the kitchen for actual food. I can’t believe how wonderful it feels to have an appetite again. I feel like I want to eat everything in sight.

Ford and Gabriel are at the breakfast nook table, papers and laptops spread out between them, talking quietly and typing. Hayden’s at the stove, and there are empty egg cartons, a bottle of rum, various spices, and other ingredients scattered across the counter.