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Chapter Thirteen
She was starting to really love waking up in this bed. Which was a little surprising—who liked feeling like they were in a hospital of all places?—but she tried not to work herself into a tizzy.
Being here, in this bed, in this room, with Eric, meant being safe and taken care of. Like being given comfort and help and attention was her due and not some outrageous demand made by an unreasonable diva, and that seemed like something very reasonable to enjoy.
There was a thin ray of light coming in from under the blackout shades which meant she’d slept for a long time. The clock on the table beside the bed confirmed it—after nine-thirty already? When was the last time she’d slept that late and so soundly? Especially during a migraine?
Her head definitely still hurt like someone was attempting to jackhammer through her skull and into her brain but it was actually an improvement from the worst parts of yesterday. She’d have to ask Eric if she could have more of those meds because they seemed to help.
Speaking of Eric, he’d left her a note. She kind of wanted to laugh because doctors had a reputation for atrocious handwriting and Eric’s was no exception. It was both spiky and scrawly which was an impressive feat in itself.
Devy,
I have a patient this morning but I should be done by ten and then I’ll be back to check on you. If you need something before that, use the buzzer I showed you yesterday—I’ll be up as soon as I can. Be a good girl for me and don’t get out of bed without help, doctor’s orders!
Yours,
Eric
Her heart fluttered when she read that. Hers? Even when she and Carter had been newlyweds he’d never felt like hers. She’d always felt more as though she was his. Which could be a nice feeling—like you belonged to someone, like someone had claimed you—and she thought she’d very much enjoy being Eric’s. But with Carter it had felt more like she was his along with his car and his golf clubs. A prized possession, but a possession nonetheless.
She stretched her arms over her head, careful of her IV, and then nestled back into the comfortable bed. It was really cozy and safe in here. And while part of her itched to get up and do something—because there was always something to do—she’d beenorderednot to do anything.
The weight she always felt to be cooking or cleaning or working or doing things for the boys’ schools lifted a bit though she still felt some of the pressure. Not enough to disobey Eric, though. No, she would stay tucked in bed as she’d been told.
Her mouth did feel kind of dry and sticky, though, and she was glad he’d left her a sippy on the nightstand. She picked it up—this one had yellow sunshines and bright rainbows all over it—and brought it to her lips, taking a few sips. She couldn’t drink too much or spill because the cup wouldn’t let her. Even holding the handles that curved around the sides was comforting—she had to use both hands, and she’d never drop it that way. She even let herself close her eyes and draw on her cup while she drowsed. Everything about this room, everything about Eric, made her feel small and safe.
It could’ve startled her when she heard the door open a few minutes later, she could’ve taken the sippy from her mouth because it was embarrassing for him to see her like this, but she didn’t bother. No, she liked the sound of Eric lowering the rail on her bed and the feel of his weight sinking the mattress, how it made her roll toward him. She smiled around her sippy and her heart glowed as he smoothed her hair and bent to kiss her forehead.
“Morning, Devy baby. How’s my little patient today?”
Reluctantly, she pulled the sippy from her mouth and blinked her eyes open. Worth it when she saw Eric smiling down at her, still wearing his white coat from seeing his patient, with a stethoscope slung around his neck.
No wonder medical dramas were so popular—there was something undeniably, baseline hot about doctors. The competence? The caring? Did it matter? And Eric was impossibly handsome besides, not to mention that he seemed quite enamored of her. Devaney would enjoy this alternate universe for as long as possible.
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Still got your migraine?”
She let herself stick out her bottom lip in a pathetic frown and nodded. Before Eric, she wouldn’t have dared—get up, get to it, no time to be self-indulgent when there are things to do, a certain way to look, a country club event to get to so just grin and bear it and get over yourself because it can’t be that bad.
But Eric petted her hair and bent down to brush his lips over her brow, murmuring against her skin. “Oh, I know, baby. You don’t feel good. Daddy’s going to help you feel better, though, okay? How’s your tummy? Think you can eat something this morning?”
“Maybe a little?”
“That’s my brave girl. We’ll give it a try. You like your sippy?”
“Mm-hmm, Daddy.”
She took another drink from her special cup to demonstrate and the smile on his face stretched into a grin. “You’re such a pretty girl in your gown and with your sippy, buttercup.”
Heat flared in her cheeks, but it dissipated into pleasure as Eric kept stroking her. Seriously, if he kept this up she was going to fall asleep again. Which may not be such a bad thing. Once during the summer when Carter had taken the boys camping for a long weekend she’d been able to veg out while she had a migraine and while it hadn’t been fun—there was nothing fun about migraines—the rest and the extra sleep had made it more bearable.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“Just telling the truth, babygirl.”
He dropped another kiss on her forehead, and yeah, she was basically reduced to goo when she was around Eric and he didn’t seem to mind. Seemed to, in fact, enjoy holding the puddle of Devy-goo in his hands and treasuring it. Yeah, that was what that feeling was. Treasured. Doted upon. Cherished. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes that she blinked back.
