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I stand and Riley takes my place on the floor.
He scoops her out with one hand and holds her to his chest. “We should keep them in the other room.”
“Agreed.”
Dizziness hits me, and my body grows hot and weak from my blood sugar level dropping. “I need to eat.”
Riley puts his arm around me, the kitty tucked in his other, and guides me to the dining table. He sets Itty-bitty on the floor and puts my oatmeal in front of me. He gives me orange juice, too. “Take my OJ. My sister said it helps.”
He’s right. “When I’m this bad, it does. Thank you.” I prop my elbow on the table and support my head with one hand while I feed myself the drink with the other, chugging it until it’s gone.
After a few moments, my strength returns. Until I eat food, this strength will be only temporary. I shovel the oatmeal into my mouth, even though I’m not hungry. Another drawback of reactive hypoglycemia is I’m often not hungry when I get to this point because I feel sick. I continue to eat anyway, until the oatmeal is almost gone, and I feel more normal.
“Better?” Riley asks from the seat beside me.
Has he been sitting here the whole time? I hate for him to see me like this, as if I don’t take care of myself. “Sorry.”
“For what?” His brows tighten.
“Getting sick.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m glad I was here to help.”
This guy…“You’re pretty awesome, Riley. I hope you know that.”
He grins and sips his coffee. “Want some?”
“Yes, please.”
Riley fills the additional coffee mug from the tray. “Creamer?” He puts a handful in front of me.
I pick out the sugar-free vanilla creamers.
“Sugar?”
I nod and take two Splenda from the tray.
Riley adds them to my coffee and stirs. “You have a sweet tooth.”
“I do.” A sheepish grin tugs at my lips. “How do you take your coffee?” I missed him making it while I was eating.
“Half and half, and a regular sugar.”
“Noted.” Tomorrow I’ll make his coffee, like he made mine today.
He sips from his mug, and I think it’s to hide his smile. He glances toward the couch. “Itty-bitty found her sister and brother.”
She’s curled up with them on the blankets.
My phone chimes from the counter. I don’t remember setting it there.
Riley gets it before I can stand and sets it on the table near me.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
He eyes me cautiously as I read the text, maybe because he thinks I’ll lose it again.