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“Well, that answers a couple of questions,” Dr. McGregor muttered beneath his breath, leveling a steely-eyed look at Sam.
“Bus-ted,” Daff singsonged softly, then yelped and glared at Spencer when he tugged a lock of her hair.
“Well, there are ways to avoid getting it if you’ve already been exposed,” the doctor said. “I suggest you pick up a pamphlet at the nurses’ station before you leave. I wouldn’t recommend visitation, unless you’ve already been exposed or have had the shot. She’s going to be pretty miserable for the next few days, and it will be best for her to have someone around to keep an eye on her, at least for the first day or two. It will run its course between three and seven days. Scary morning, I know, but she’ll be fine.”
He went on his merry way, actually whistling as he left the waiting room. Sam sat down heavily and once again listened to Lia’s family talk around him. Discussing what the best course of action would be.
“We’ll have to postpone the weekend, of course,” Daff was saying. “I’ll see if we can get a refund on the airfare. I’ll stay with her, since I’ve had the shot. The rest of you should get yours, too, by the way. Seriously, people, am I the only sensible person in this family?”
“Why postpone the weekend?” Sam was shocked to hear himself say. “I’ve already been exposed, I’ll stay with her over the weekend and you can still go on your trip.”
Daff planted her hands on her hips, tilted her head, and gave him a long, assessing look.
“I’ll be looking for a wedding dress, Brand. I’d like my maid of honor to be present.”
“We could set up a Skype connection or something so that she can see everything and give her opinion on the dresses.”
“It won’t be the same,” she dismissed curtly, and he shrugged, letting it go, but at the same time wondering why he felt so fucking disappointed by her refusal to consider his suggestion.
All he knew was that he probably wouldn’t be seeing Lia for a week—and he found the prospect completely abhorrent.
“Daff,” Mrs. McGregor said softly, “don’t dismiss his idea out of hand. Planning another weekend like this with everybody’s busy schedules will be quite difficult, especially if you definitely want that October wedding. You want to get the dresses organized sooner rather than later.”
Daff looked torn and hesitated before shaking her head.
“Let’s discuss this later. I want to talk to Lia about it first. Since I’m the only one who can, I’ll go and check on her now.”
Sam pushed himself up and moved to stand beside her, and she looked at him in surprise, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline.
“What are you doing, Brand?”
“I’m going with you.”
“I don’t fu—fricking think so! I don’t want—”
“Daff.” Spencer’s deep voice interrupted whatever she’d been about to say, and she stopped abruptly, glaring first at her fiancé and then at Sam before she turned and flounced toward the door. Sam nodded gratefully at Spencer, met Lia’s father’s eyes for an uncomfortable moment, and followed Daff out of the room.
“Hi, sissy.” Lia smiled when she saw Daff enter the room; she felt shockingly weak and extremely hot one moment, then ice-cold the next. “I feel so stupid. All this drama for nothing.”
“Don’t be silly, Lia,” Daff admonished in that no-nonsense way of hers and came farther into the room. She was followed by Sam, and Lia’s eyes widened at the sight of him.
“Sam, where are your shoes?” she asked, finding it hard to talk when her throat was on fire. “And your shirt? You should have put on a shirt.”
“And deprive you of the sight of all this manly magnificence?” he teased. It was a half-hearted attempt at humor, but Lia smiled for him. Because he looked like he needed it.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was so looking forward to your breakfast.”
“Nah, it would have disappointed you, and I, for one, am happy you upchucked before you ate, because my ego would never have recovered if it was after breakfast.”
She laughed and then coughed.
“Ugh. I feel so gross,” she complained. “When can I go home?”
“This afternoon, they’re just making sure you have no respiratory issues before discharging you,” Daff said.
“I can leave now. I want to sleep. I can’t sleep here. The nurses are always buzzing around me.”
“Soon,” Daff promised, stroking Lia’s damp hair back from her forehead.
“You guys are going to get sick.”
“I had the flu shot, and Brand will probably get it anyway on account of all the spit you guys have been exchanging.”
“Jesus,” Sam muttered, sending Daff a glare before going around the other side of the bed to take one of Lia’s limp hands in his. “I’m glad you’re okay, Lia.”
“I’m so not okay,” she complained. “Everything hurts, I’m tired, I hate coughing, and I hate being here.”
