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Grabbing my phone, I dial Kennedy.
“Good morning,” she answers cheerfully.
“Hey, Kens,” I greet softly.
“What’s wrong?”
How is it that she can already read me so well? “I can’t go to dinner tonight. Blake woke up with a fever.”
“Oh no. Do you need anything?”
“No. I think we have what we need. We’re just snuggling on the couch.”
“Poor thing.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry to cancel on you.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. She’s your number one priority. I understand that, Declan.”
“You could come over and cuddle with us,” I offer. I know that’s a risk that she could get whatever Blakely has, but I really want to see her.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Unless you’re worried about getting sick too.”
“Cuddles are worth it,” she tells me.
Just another reason this woman has been able to push past all my defenses. She’s an incredible human inside and out. “I agree,” I tell her.
“I’ll bring dinner. Anything else you need? Tissues? Cock drops?” she asks with a chuckle.
“We’re good, babe.” I snicker.
“Okay. Well, if you think of something, just text me.”
“Who’s that?” Blakely asks.
“It’s Kennedy, sweetheart.”
“Can I say hi?” she asks.
“Kens, Blake wants to say hi.” I hit the speakerphone button so I can hear them. “Hi, Kenny,” Blakely says without her usual flair.
“Hey, sweetie. Your daddy said you aren’t feeling well.”
“I gots a fever.”
“I’m sorry you’re sick.” Kennedy speaks with so much empathy in her voice I feel myself getting choked up. “I’m going to stop by in a little while and see you.”
“That will make me feel better,” my daughter says.
“I’ll see you soon, kiddo.”
“Bye, Kenny.”
I take the phone off speaker. “We’ll be here,” I tell her.
“Okay. What about you? Anything you need?”
“Not off the top of my head. Just you.”
Her voice is soft when she replies, “I’ll be there soon.” The call ends, and I place my phone back on the end table and snuggle in with my little girl.
A couple of hours later, Blakely is sleeping in her bed, and I’m taking the opportunity to straighten up the house and do a couple of loads of laundry. I really need to run the vacuum, but that can wait. I don’t want to do anything that will wake her up. I’m wiping the kitchen counters when my phone beeps with a message.
Kennedy: I’m here.
Me: I’ll open the garage, and you can pull in.
Kennedy: Okay. I didn’t want to wake Blakely if she was sleeping.
I don’t reply. Instead, I slide my phone into my pocket and rush to the garage to open the door for her. She pulls in and climbs out of her car. When she reaches the back, I close the garage door and step off the steps to help her.
“What is all of this?” I ask.
“Well, I wanted to make Blakely homemade chicken noodle soup, then I thought she might not like it. So I grabbed some canned chicken noodles, some dino nuggets, and mac and cheese. I got more Pedialyte and some Motrin and Tylenol for her fever and some tissues.”
“Kens…” I’m at a loss for words.
“I just wanted to help you and her.”
I lean in and kiss her before taking the bags from her hands and carrying them inside. “I’ll pay you back for all of this,” I tell her.
“You will do no such thing. I wanted to do this.” She holds up another bag. “I found this too, and I couldn’t pass it up.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a super soft blanket with stars and the moon. They glow in the dark.” She smiles, and I don’t know if the gesture or her thoughtfulness has my heart flipping in my chest. Probably a combination of both.
“She’s going to love that.”
“Is she sleeping?”
“She is.”
“Okay. Well, let me get the chicken on for the soup.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Just relax, Daddy,” she tells me. “It can’t be easy taking care of a sick little girl on your own.”
“She’s just been clingy today. We’ve been through worse, that’s for sure.”
“Regardless, you never know what the rest of the day and night might hold. Why don’t you go rest while she is?”
“Can we put the chicken in a Crock-Pot?” I ask her.
“Sure. It takes a little longer, but it’s not even noon yet, so it should still be ready by dinnertime. And I bought canned just in case she hates it.”
Going into the pantry, I grab the Crock-Pot and place it on the counter, plugging it in. I retrieve a liner from the drawer. “Use this. You can lie with me.”
“I— Okay.” She nods and gets to work placing the chicken and broth into the Crock-Pot. Ten minutes later, we’re checking on Blakely, who is still sound asleep. I point the touchless thermometer at her head and see that she’s still running a low fever, but she’s resting peacefully. Then I take Kennedy by the hand and lead her to my room, closing and locking the door. I turn the baby monitor on that I still sometimes use when she’s sick or if I’m outside working early or after she’s in bed in case she wakes up and needs me.
