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I searched under the covers and next to the bed. Then I sent him another text. This time I heard the chime more clearly: it was coming next door, from Donovan’s room.
And the door connecting our rooms was closed.
That’s weird.
I frowned at the door, then knocked. “Donovan? Are you over there?”
I heard the rustling of his down comforter, and then the squeak of mattress springs. “I’m here.”
I opened my door, but came face-to-face with the door leading into his room. I tried the knob but it was locked.
“What are you doing over there? Let me in.”
I heard footsteps walking across the floor. “I can’t do that.”
“What?” I said with a nervous laugh. “Why not? Do you have another surprise for me?”
“Molly,” he said from the other side of the door, “I think I’m sick.”
I tensed. Was this a joke? I waited for the punchline but it never came. I realized I was holding my breath, so I let it out, then took a step away from the door.
“What are your symptoms?” I asked slowly. My mind was cloudy without coffee. “How do you feel? Do you have a dry cough?”
“One question at a time,” he said. His voice was soft, but not hoarse. “My throat is a little sore, but I don’t have a cough. Mostly I’m just exhausted. Like,reallytired. Fatigued worse than after pulling a triple-shift at the diner.”
“Okay, okay, that’s not bad,” I said. “Maybe you’re just tired! You only had one cup of coffee yesterday, because then we played hide and seek. And you were swimming! Yeah, the swimming! You’re not used to doing that type of workout. You said so yourself.”
There was a long pause. “Molly, this feels different.”
“You don’t know that. You might just be tired.”
“I hope you’re right. But until I know for sure, I can’t be around you.”
I blinked. “We’ve already been around each other non-stop. If you’re sick…”
Then I probably am too.The thought slammed into place like a deadbolt and I started analyzing my own body. I didn’t feel tired, aside from normal morning sleepiness. I didn’t have a cough. My throat wasn’t sore. I ran over to the desk and took a sip of cold leftover coffee. It was bitter. I still had my sense of taste.
“We can’t be together right now,” Donovan said through the door. “I can’t risk it. You know it’s for your own good.”
No, I thought.Please don’t make me be alone again.
“I can go in there and snuggle with you,” I said enticingly. “That will make you feel better. I don’t care if I’m risking myself.”
“Molly…”
I sighed. “You’re not budging on this, are you?”
“You can’t see me, but I’m shaking my head right now.”
I glanced at the sunlight streaming through the glass balcony door. A thought came to me…
“I locked my balcony door,” Donovan said, as if he could read my mind through the wall. “You can’t hop across and get in that way.”
“I have the keys to the hotel.” I grabbed them from the desk and gave them an audible jangle. “I bet one of them is the master key that will open your door.”
“If you open my door,” Donovan warned, “I’ll never forgive you.”
“Fine.” He wasn’t going to let me in, even if he was just tired.
