Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I ran into the first problem when I found his gate firmly shut. I honked the horn, until to my relief, the gate slid open. I got out of the car and hurried to the front door. I rang the bell and waited. If he was home, it was likely that he was alone as he never had staff in the evenings.
I was about to ring the doorbell again when the door opened and Max stood there, pale and obviously unwell.
“What’s wrong?” I blurted out, shocked by his appearance.
“It’s just the flu. I need to sleep it off. I’ll be fine,” he said in a strained voice, then turned away and began to walk back into the house. I followed him to the living room where he stretched out on a couch. On the table, an untouched congealed meal of steak and mashed potatoes sat.
“When was the last time you ate?” I asked.
“My throat is sore… I’ve been sipping water,” he said, keeping his eyes shut.
“Where’s your housekeeper?”
“Told her not to come until tomorrow. Hate having people around when I’m not at my best.”
I dropped my purse on the coffee table and folded my sleeves. Taking the plate of uneaten mashed potatoes and steak, I headed to the kitchen. What he needed was something easy to swallow, like soup. I rummaged through the freezer and found some homemade beef stock. There was a whole free-range chicken in the fridge. Then I gathered all the vegetables I could find and started dicing.
I left the soup to simmer on the stove and returned to the living room. “I’ll help you up to your room. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
“No need to help me. I’m as strong as an ox,” he said and began to walk up the stairs.
“Something smells good,” he commented, as he passed by me.
“I’m making chicken and vegetable soup.”
“It’s not the soup. I think it might be you.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the soup,” I said firmly as I pulled back the covers of his bed. I waited while he climbed into bed.
“Have you ever had sex with a sick man?” he asked.
“No, and I don’t intend to start now.”
He grasped my hand. His hand was hot with fever. “But I want to have sex with you, Lillian.”
“You’re too ill to be thinking of sex,” I said, hiding a smile.
“At least, stay with me,” he grumbled.
“That I can do. I’m not going anywhere,” I reassured softly.
“Good. Life’s not the same without you.”
He fell asleep as soon as I arranged the covers around him. I stood looking down at him, loving him so much it felt like my chest would explode.
When I returned downstairs, I called Max’s mother.
“Have you found him?” she asked apprehensively.
“Yes. He’s at home with the flu.”
“Is he alright?”
“Yes, he’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
“Does he need a doctor?” she asked. The worry was evident in her voice and I realized despite what Max believed, his mother really did love him.
“I don’t think so, but I’ll stay the night, and I promise to call you if his situation changes.”
“Yes, please do that.”
Not wanting to wake Max up, I put the soup in the oven to keep it warm and watched a movie with the sound turned right down so I could hear him if he called. A couple of hours later, I carried a tray up to him. I pushed the door open and found Max writhing in his bed. Startled, I hurried to him and shook him awake. He looked disoriented at first.
“Why did you do that to me, Lillian?” he gasped, his eyes wild.
“I think you were having a nightmare,” I said, noting that he was drenched in sweat.
“Yeah, it was just a nightmare,” he said and sat up.
I went to the bathroom to wet a washcloth. Returning to the room, I gently wiped his face and neck. His temperature was still high, but so high it was a worry. I placed the tray on his lap and like a mother hen guarding her chick, I watched over him as he finished the soup.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
“What time is it?”
“Nine.”
“You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked restlessly.
“No.”
“That’s good, but you don’t want to catch what I’ve got. Sleep in the guest room.”
I nodded and Max yawned and slid under the covers again. He closed his pretty eyes and I smiled at the sight. I kinda liked him this way. He seemed almost meek and kitten-like.
Friendly, at any rate.
I turned off the lights and carried his empty bowl downstairs. I ate a bowl as well, cleaned up, and headed upstairs to the guest room.
I checked on Max throughout the night and sometime in the early morning hours, he grabbed my hand and pulled me down on the bed next to him. “Don’t go, Lillian. Please. There is so little time left,” he whispered.