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I looked at my Jameson, so happy, wrapping his arms around Izzy’s legs trying to bring her down. I smiled, so proud. Maybe I should sign him up for football. All I knew was that whatever Jameson did, I was going to cheer him on. We didn’t need Drake. In fact, I was going to tell him to leave tomorrow. No sense in prolonging the inevitable or having him making more promises to my son he probably wasn’t going to keep. I would find a way myself to introduce Jameson to Buddy the elf.
While I was thinking of who I might know in Hollywood with some connections, a harried Martez appeared, just as I saved Izzy from hitting the floor after Jameson had knocked her off-kilter.
“Charlotte,” Martez said out of breath. “Drake’s not doing well.”
At first my heart stilled, which was annoying because it shouldn’t care if Drake was sick. Besides, I wasn’t his mommy or his assistant anymore. But then I remembered something about good ole Drake. He was a total baby when he was sick. Which wasn’t very often. “Just give him some cold medicine and tell him to get some sleep. He’ll survive his man cold just fine.” I turned back around, ready for some more sliding with my kiddo.
“He doesn’t have a cold. He’s in so much pain, he’s vomiting.” Martez sounded worried. Too worried.
I whipped back around in total TLC mode. I was hopeless. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know. He was complaining about his back hurting earlier, so I left him to rest. I was just coming down to get something to eat when I heard him moaning, so I went to check on him. He doesn’t look good. He’s pale and sweating profusely.”
I didn’t think twice. I rushed past Martez, down the hall, and up the stairs. My only thought was to help Drake. I guess my soul was going for option two—hooking up with Drake’s soul until I died a miserable death. Good times.
When I got to the top of the stairs, I could hear Drake crying out in pain. I sprinted down the hall to the honeymoon suite. I flung the door open but didn’t see Drake. Then I heard him moan. I jetted toward the bathroom. There I found him lying on the floor, curled up in a ball, in only a pair of jeans. The stench of the room said he had definitely vomited, which kept me from ogling his half-naked body. A terrible thought popped into my head. What if Izzy poisoned him? Not like fatally, but like food poisoning. She had been pretty chipper this afternoon. Surely, she wouldn’t. Right?
Whatever his ailment, I knelt next to him. I had never seen him like this before. Not even his man colds had rendered him so helpless.
“Drake.” I swiped his burning brow. “What’s wrong?”
He barely had the energy to open his eyes. “I don’t know, but I think death would be better than this.”
“So, it is a man cold,” I teased even though I was shaking, afraid for him.
He let out the smallest chuckle. “Charlotte,” he managed to say, but couldn’t articulate anything past that.
“I’m here.” I brushed his clammy cheek with my hand. “We’re going to get you to the ER. Hang tight.” One thing I knew—Drake would hate it if I called for an ambulance.
I stood and yelled out the door, “Izzy!”
She, Martez, and Jameson all appeared. I’m not sure I wanted Jameson to witness this, but it was too late to change it, and time was of the essence.
“Izzy, can you please watch Jameson? Martez, I need you to help me get Drake down to my car. I’m taking him to the hospital.” I said it all so fast, I wasn’t sure if anyone comprehended what had just come out of my mouth. But Izzy wrapped her arms around a wide-eyed Jameson and said, “Of course.” Martez hopped to it and headed for Drake.
“Is Drake okay?” Jameson asked, in his I’m-scared-Mommy-don’t-leave-me voice.
I knelt in front of my son and placed a hand on his warm cheek. “He’s going to be okay. I promise.” I wasn’t sure how I knew that, but I wasn’t lying when I said it.
“Okay.” Jameson nodded. “I’ll make him a card and he can take my teddy bear.”
“You are the sweetest,” my voice hitched. I loved my kid so much. I kissed his head and stood.
“Go. Go.” Izzy waved me away. “I’ve got Jameson. We’ll have a movie and hot cocoa party.” Even she sounded worried. Hopefully that wasn’t the sound of guilt because she’d poisoned Drake.
Martez came out of the bathroom supporting Drake, who could barely stand on his own. I knew this was humiliating to him. But shamefully, I was more focused on his body. Holy crap, the man had some abs. Stop ogling him, Charlotte; he looks like death. I just had to say, if that’s what death looked like, no one had anything to fear.
