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But for now, this coffee would have to suffice.
“I know. I’m going to force him to let me take care of him, though.”
“Good luck with that, sweetheart. Maybe you should both move in with me. Until he’s feeling better.”
She frowned. It was a kind offer. But she wanted to be in her own home, surrounded by her own things. And she was certain that Spike would feel the same way.
“Thanks. But I have this. I can take care of him.”
“Not doubting that, Millie,” he reassured her. “But who is going to take care of you?”
Surprised filled her at his words. “I can take care of myself. I did it before I met Spike.”
“Not to insult you, sweetheart, but you constantly found yourself in trouble before you met him.”
“I did not!” She thought that over. “Well, okay, I did a bit. But I have got this. And I’d rather be home. Oh shoot!”
“What is it?” he asked.
“I just remembered that my friends are staying the week with us. I hope they’re all right. I wasn’t there to show them their bedrooms or cook them dinner. And everything is still outside from the Easter egg hunt.”
“Everything is being taken care of,” he reassured her. “Effie and Grady went back to your place yesterday after they left here. Duke, Sunny, and some of the others did too. They tidied everything up and made sure your friends settled in all right.”
Relief filled her. “Thank you. All of you. I’m so grateful.”
“That’s what family is for, sweetheart.”
10
His girl was running herself ragged.
And Spike fucking hated that.
She needed to rest. To relax. He wasn’t even sure that she was sleeping. He tried to stay awake each night to ensure that she lay down beside him and slept, but he kept fucking falling asleep before she did.
They’d been home for three nights now and enough was enough. She was taking care of everyone else and wasn’t letting anyone look after her.
Sometimes, he’d wake up and find her sitting next to the bed, just staring at him.
Yeah, the doctor had said that he had to take things easy. But that didn’t mean he was a fucking invalid. Today, he was getting up, showering and going downstairs to eat.
Climbing from the bed, he headed into the attached bathroom. After using the toilet and brushing his teeth, he felt a lot better. But his energy was fading fast. Fuck.
Turning on the shower, he stripped out of the boxers he was wearing and got in. As he started to wash himself the bathroom door opened and Millie ran in.
“Spike!” she cried out, rushing to the shower. Pulling open the door, she stared at him.
She still had dark marks under her eyes, marring her too-pale skin.
She was wearing a pair of pants and a long sweatshirt.
Which he also didn’t like. His girl wore dresses. Not pants and sweaters.
Her dark hair was pinned up, flyaway strands falling down.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her hands on her hips.
He frowned. He didn’t mind her calling him Spike or Quillon. But he preferred to be called Daddy.
