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“She’s gonna be okay. Don’t worry.”
Resting my palm against Zoey’s forehead, I check how warm she is. There’s a little heat there but nothing alarming.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Not sure. She might have just eaten something bad, or her body is fighting off a bug.”
“What do we do?” His eyes are bright with concern.
I cup his cheek and press my smile briefly against his lips. “We look after her.”
And that’s what we do.
He helps me get Zoey into a fresh pair of pajamas, then sits on the bed, cuddling her on his lap while I clean up her crib.
Zoey’s little hand rests on Carson’s belly, tracking the lines of his six-pack until her hand goes limp and she falls asleep against him. Her cheeks are now slightly red and flushed, so I check her temperature again.
She’s a little warm, so I grab a cold cloth and rest it over her forehead. The poor little thing probably has a headache brewing. All I can hope is that she sleeps between each puke.
Carson strokes her hair, watching her with a worried frown. In fact, he doesn’t take his eyes off her the entire time she’s on his lap, and my heart goes all soft and squishy every time I glance his way.
I manage to find fresh crib sheets and remake Zoey’s bed, but when I go to put her back in it, Carson shakes his head.
“She’s sleeping,” he mouths.
I smile and head down to the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets until I find a puke bowl. It’s a stainless-steel mixing bowl, just like the one Mom used to put by my bed when I got sick.
Creeping back up the stairs, I take a seat beside Carson, resting my head on his shoulder and waiting for the inevitable.
Which happens about twenty minutes later.
Thankfully, we’re fully prepared, and while Carson turns away and tries not to puke himself, I catch Zoey’s vomit and wipe away her tears.
She manages to drift off to sleep a little quicker the second time, but after her third bout of sickness, I start to worry that Sienna will be mad at me that I didn’t let her know.
So, as much as I don’t want to disturb their date, I slip out of the room and make the call.
CHAPTER24
CARSON
This has got to be the grossest night of my life.
Alcohol puke smells very different to whatever the hell is coming out of Zoey tonight. It’s taking maximum effort to keep my dinner down, and when Nylah leaves the room to make a call, I quickly snatch the bowl and pull it closer, worried I’m gonna have to play Catch the Chunks all by myself.
Zoey is listless against me. She’s getting weaker after each session, and worry is gnawing at me like termites, feasting on my stomach and making me feel sick.
I may not want to live with the little thing, but if anything happens to her, I’m not sure I’ll get over it.
Okay, fine. I like her.
She’s adorable and funny and cute and… I don’t mind so much when she crawls onto my lap.
“It’s not that bad,” I whisper, pressing my lips against her curls. “You’re not really a pain in the ass, and I’m getting used to having you around. So just… get better, you know? Don’t… don’t get super sick on me, okay?”
My throat gets thick and clammy as she whimpers in her sleep.
“Mommy,” she rasps, and I look at the door, willing Nylah to come back so she can at least be a female presence in the room.