Forty-Two

B

It starts as a small tickle in the back of my throat. I wake up with it and blame it on the fan I forgot to turn off before I passed out last night. Maybe I slept with my mouth open, and it's just dry. Nevertheless, I'll drink a piping hot cup of coffee and a bottle of water to rehydrate. No biggie.

Only it doesn't go away. Instead, it lingers all day, slowly getting worse as the hours tick by. I try to ignore it while I take care of things around the apartment before my shift at Rebar, but the tickle morphs into a burning sensation.

By the time my Uber pulls up in front of the bar, it feels like I'm swallowing shards of glass, and I've got the cold sweats. This isn't good. I rarely get sick, so when I do, I tend to go to the extreme.

It's Thursday night, and there's no way I can leave Edward to run things on his own. With how busy we've been lately, he'd never survive.

"Ma'am?" the driver calls, getting my attention. "Is everything okay?"

I realize that I'm wasting her valuable time and dig through my bag for a couple loose bills. Handing them over, I apologize, and we both wince at the sound of my voice. "Sorry, got lost in my thoughts."

She asks me if I'm sure I'm all right and offers me a complimentary mint. "Take as many as you need. I have a five pound bag in my trunk."

Both grateful and desperate, I dump the bowl in my purse and slowly climb out of the backseat.

My muscles are sore, and my body feels as if it's made of lead.

This isn't good.

I tell myself to just get inside. A nice hot toddy before my shift starts may just work wonders. I never drink on the clock, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I tell myself I just have to make it to midnight.

Edward is standing behind the bar, talking to Harry and Waylon when I enter. The lighting is dim, but my eyes still burn and struggle to focus as I join them. I definitely have a fever.

Edward takes one look at me and comes rushing over with a worried look. "Bella?"

I hold up my hand and pop a mint in my mouth. "I'm fine. Just a sore throat," I assure him, but he raises his hand, placing it over my clammy forehead.

"Fuck, baby. You're burning up."

I try to shrug it off. I explain that after a cup of tea, laced with whisky and a couple Tylenol, I'll be raring to go, but Edward doesn't seem convinced.

He tells me I need to go to urgent care or at least back home to rest, but I can't and won't leave him.

"Fine." He huffs. "At least, go to my office and lie down while I make you a drink."

"But—"

He shakes his head firmly. "If I had it my way, I'd be taking you to the fucking emergency room or, at least, home to take care of you but I can't …" He pulls on the ends of his hair in frustration. "Fuck it. I'm closing for the night."

I stop him before he can leave. "No, you aren't."

"But—"

"But nothing. I'm not letting you close over something as simple as a cold."

He starts to argue, but I shake my head, the action causes my vision to blur.

"I'll rest in your office and come help when you get swamped. Would that make you happy?"

"Fine. Go lie down. I'll be there in a minute."

Happy that we've managed to come to an agreement, I shuffle to his office and make myself comfortable on the rarely used couch lining the wall. It's plush and practically brand new, as are the few small pillows and blanket thrown across the back.

It doesn't take long for Edward to join me. He's sporting a stoney expression and carrying a tray.

"Waylon and Harry are running to the store up the street for me. You need proper medicine, not just Tylenol. They'll be back soon." He sets the tray down and moves to help me sit up. "Until then, you can nurse this."

The tea is boiling hot and the whisky burns, but it feels so good on my raw throat. After a few small sips, I offer my very worried boyfriend a smile he doesn't reciprocate.

"I could have ordered some meds and cough drops to be delivered, you know?"

Edward shakes his head. "It would take too long. Keep drinking."

I sigh and do as I'm told before asking him who's watching the bar.

"Waylon and Harry were the only customers when you got here. I'm listening for the bell." He takes my cup. "But don't worry about that."

I don't know if it's the fever, whatever ick I'm fighting, or the amount of alcohol he put in my drink, maybe a combination of all three, but suddenly, my eyes get heavy, and I lie back with an exhausted sigh.

"Wake me up when you need me out there," I slur.

"Sure, baby."

…

I wake with a startle and panic, not remembering where I am for a moment.

The office is stuffy and not soundproof. The coffee table is littered with coffee mugs, bags of various brands of cough drops, cold medicine, and a bottle of Jack that's about three-fourths of the way full.

My throat is on fire, and my fever hasn't broken yet, but from the sounds of it, Edward didn't keep his word.

Business has definitely picked up since the last time he forced some god-awful tasting medicine down my throat, and he didn't come and get me.

It takes me a few minutes to stand and gather my bearings, and when I do, I make my way to Edward's private bathroom. I pee and wash my hands, grimacing at my reflection in the mirror. I'm paler than usual, my eyes bloodshot, cheeks flushed, and hair matted down with sweat.

I grab a towel and clean up the best I can, applying some saline to my burning eyes and pulling my damp hair into a messy bun.

The last thing I want to do is sling drinks and socialize, but Edward needs me, and the customers shouldn't have to suffer because Rebar is short staffed.

I grab a bag of cough drops and slowly make my exit, and just as I expected, business is booming.

There are people lined up at the bar, tables need bussing, and I can see the kitchen is a wreck of dirty dishes.

Edward is behind the bar, looking stressed as all get out, and rushing around, making drinks and apologizing.

He frowns when I join him behind the bar, but I brush it off and get to work.

A lot of the patrons are patient as we catch up, but there are always a few complainers. They're easy to ignore though.

Eventually, the crowd dies down, and Edward takes the opportunity to check on me. "You're not as hot as you were when you got here."

"The medicine helped a lot."

I offer to go start on the dishes, but he tells me not to worry, that he called in reinforcements.

I'm about to ask him what he's talking about when Alice comes zooming in with a big smile on her face.

"The dish bitch has come to save the day!" she exclaims. "I'd hug you, but I've got an infant at home."

I thank her profusely before she disappears into the kitchen.

"Now that we've calmed down some, you need to go lie back down," Edward stresses.

I don't argue, partially because I don't have the energy. The past hour felt like an eternity, and I'm exhausted. I don't know how long I'm out for before he's waking me up.

"Come on, beautiful. It's time to go home."