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We spent the morning as we usually did, breakfast together followed by watching the news and reading the paper. Sophie was still sl
eeping, but soon, she'd wake up and Kate would feed her. Then, she'd spent time on the floor with her toys for tummy time.
In the meantime, Kate brought in a couple of mugs of coffee for us and placed them down on the coffee table.
"Did you get a call from Detective McDonald about the case?" she asked when she sat beside me.
"Not yet, but he said they'd call as soon as they arrest someone. Not that it will do me any good, now that someone leaked the fact that one of my possessions was found at the crime scene."
Kate sighed and sat closer to me. “I’ll be glad when it’s all over,” she said and put her arm around my shoulders, her face next to mine. “I hate what this has done to you.”
I leaned back and put my arm on the back of the sofa behind her. “I’m alive, I have you and I have Sophia. I’m rich as fuck and can go anywhere in the world that I want. What else do I need?”
“Drake Morgan?” Kate said, a look of surprise on her face. “Rich as fuck? I’ve never heard you talk like that…”
“It’s true. I guess I’m angry that everyone’s so quick to dissociate themselves with me over this. You sure learn who your true friends are.”
Kate nodded and ran her fingers through my hair. “The O’Rileys are true friends. I was afraid that Mrs. O would be too shocked to be able to stay friendly with us, given the BDSM. I mean, they’re a big Catholic family.”
“Thank God for Mrs. O. She invited us to Sunday dinner, if you want to go.”
Kate shook her head. “Not this week. Maybe when Sophie’s all better. She’s still got the sniffles and I don’t want her going out in the cold.”
I nodded and heard her stirring on the baby monitor. “Speaking of Sophie, she’s waking up.”
I stood up, wanting to go and check on her since she’d still been a bit cranky for the past few days. I thought she was over her cold, if that’s what she had, but it seemed to linger. I didn’t want to worry Kate, so I said nothing, but I kept a close watch over her temperature, checking it when Kate was busy so I didn’t set off alarm bells.
I went up the stairs to Sophie’s bedroom, which was dim and cool. She was lying on her back, sucking on her pacifier, her eyes still closed. She was snuffling. I bent over her and kissed her forehead and knew immediately that she was hot.
She coughed, her cough wet and raspy, and I frowned. I went to the change table and retrieved the ear thermometer from the top drawer, taking her temperature. It was up two degrees.
She was sick. Kate came into the bedroom and saw me with the ear thermometer. Immediately, her face fell and she came right over to the crib.
“Does she have a fever?”
“It’s up a bit,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “I’ll get her some Tylenol.”
“Aww, poor baby,” Kate said and picked Sophie up. She opened her eyes and wasn’t her usual self. Usually, she’d smile at us, but this time she sucked her pacifier and struggled to breathe through her tiny nostrils. Then she coughed again and started to cry.
“Drake,” Kate said and laid her down on the change table. “She’s sick.”
“I’ll be right back with the Tylenol. Change her and put her in something light. We need to keep her cool.”
I went to the kitchen and found the baby Tylenol and then retrieved my medical kit from the hall closet where I kept it in case my skills as a doctor were ever needed. I sprinted upstairs and arrived while Kate was finishing changing Sophie, dressing her in a thin cotton onesie.
“This won’t be too hot, will it?” she asked, her eyes wide with anxiety. “It’s light cotton.”
“She’ll be fine,” I said and tried to sound confident so Kate could relax. “I don’t want her wearing anything too warm. Our apartment is nice and warm so she doesn’t need anything heavy.”
I put my medical case on the chest of drawers and opened it up, taking out my stethoscope so I could listen to Sophie’s heart and chest.
“Is that necessary?” Kate asked, alarm in her voice.
“I do this for all my patients,” I said, and unzipped Sophie’s onesie pajamas. I listened to her chest, which was clear, and her heart sounds were normal, so she didn’t have bronchitis or pneumonia. At most, I suspected she had a rhinovirus, with some post-nasal drip that made her cough sound wet.
“She has a little fever and a touch of the sniffles,” I said and picked up my otoscope so I could check her tympanic membrane for any inflammation. Sophie’s tiny ear drums were pink and healthy. “So far so good. What she has is likely a virus that will run its course in a few days. No need to worry. She might be a bit fussier because of it but she should be back to normal in a few days.”
“Poor baby’s not feeling good?” Kate said in a sympathetic voice as she bent down over Sophie. “We’ll be sure to give you lots of TLC until you’re better.”
