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I woke up the next morning with a sore throat, and a dry cough. I was also tired, like I hadn’t slept well—even though I knew I had.
Donovan was still fast asleep. I felt his forehead to make sure his fever wasn’t alarming, and then went downstairs to get the Gatorade that I hadn’t retrieved last night. Hydrating was important. Most of the medical recommendations emphasized that. There wasn’t a lot I could do about the virus, but drinking plenty of fluids was something.
I came back upstairs and put the Gatorade away. Donovan was still asleep in bed, sprawled out on his belly with the sheets tangled around his waist. Sunlight from the window reflected off his olive skin. Even while sick, it was impossible to ignore just how sexy this man was.
His phone vibrated on the kitchen counter. I glanced at it out of habit, and saw the beginning of an email notification.
STANDBY LIST REMINDER: Your flight from FCO to BOS is awaiting confirmation…
“That’s not what my emails have said,” I muttered. I picked up the phone and swiped it open. There was no passcode, and it opened straight to the relevant email.
I was only half-awake before, but as I scanned the email I quickly woke up. My eyes flew back and forth as the details sank in.
“Donovan,” I said. “You got a flight back?”
He rolled over and rubbed his eye with a fist. “Huh?”
I sat on the edge of the bed. “You got an email from the standby list. You have a flight back to Boston!”
“I…” He sat up in bed and blinked away the sleep from his eyes. “What? That’s, uh, awesome.”
“It says you were selected from the waiting listtwo weeks ago.”
“Oh.” I saw the panic in his eyes as he tried to think of an excuse. He looked like he’d been caught.
“You could have gone home,” I said, “but you chose not to?”
He let out a long sigh. “I got the email a while ago, yeah. And I was excited because I assumed you would be selected too. We’re in the same city, so if there’s a return flight for us to take, it only makes sense that both of us could go. But for some reason you weren’t selected. They’re processing applications slowly back home, for whatever reason. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave you here, Molly.”
“That’s sweet,” I said, “but I can’t believe you didn’t take the flight! You can’t just stay in Rome because of me.”
“Sure I can,” he said simply. “I don’t have a job waiting for me back home. It’ll be a while before a chef position opens up. There’s no point to me going home and doing nothing for months.” He squeezed my thigh. “I want to be wherever you are, Feisty. Even if we’re stuck in a hotel together. This feels more like home than my empty apartment, and it’s becauseyou’rehere.”
We hugged, and tears welled in my eyes. I was feeling vulnerable and scared because of my positive test, and everything he had told me was exactly what I needed to hear. It mirrored how I felt about him. If I had gotten a return flight, I wasn’t sure I would have left him.
“Hey. You don’t feel hot anymore.” I rested my cheek against his shoulder. “You feel normal.”
“My fever must have broken,” he said. “I feel okay, I guess. Still tired, but okay.”
“If you had left two weeks ago,” I pointed out, “you wouldn’t have gotten infected.”
“I don’t care. I would suffer the worst virus in the world for you, Molly.”
“Easy to say once you’re feeling better.”
He laughed and squeezed me tighter, and for a few moments I stopped worrying about everything. As long as I had Donovan, I felt safe.
47
Donovan
The Day I Took Care Of Her
I let Molly relax in bed and I went downstairs to make breakfast for us. I was still tired, but it felt good to walk around and stretch my legs. Maybe I was on the other side of the sickness.
“Knock on wood,” I said to myself, rapping my knuckles on a wooden table in the restaurant on the way to the kitchen.
When I went inside, I frowned at what I saw. The kitchen was amess. All the pasta machines were used and covered with flour. Bits of pasta dough were scattered on the counters, and there was a pile of used pots and pans in the sink.
