She smiles and then closes her eyes. “Fine. I’ll admit that I feel pretty bad.”

“You took something for the fever?”

“Yeah, a while ago. Advil.”

“I’m going to get you some cold water and see if there is any Tylenol. You can alternate between the two to try and keep your fever down.”

“Thanks,” she groans, and I brush her hair back, hating seeing her like this. “The headache is back and it’s killing me.”

“I’ll get you something.” I kiss her forehead and go back into the kitchen, filling up a glass with ice water before rooting around in the cabinet to look for medicine for Chloe. My phone, which is still on the counter, buzzes again. Anxiety prickles through me, reminding me again, how close I came to Chloe finding out the truth.

It’s Mom calling, and I’m sure she’s going to ask if Chloe and I are coming over for breakfast. I silence the call with the intent to call her back later. I take the water and medicine up to Chloe, who feebly sits up. She either put up a good front yesterday of feeling well or she really did crash fast, which can happen with the flu. I’ve seen it knock healthy people on their ass for days and even end up hospitalized.

“I’m sorry I’m sick,” she tells me, taking the pills from my hand.

“Why in the world would you be sorry for getting sick?”

“You take care of sick people all day and now you have to take care of me.”

I sit on the bed next to her. “I like taking care of you, which is a first, actually. I like taking care of my patients, of course, but I’ve never had anyone in my life like you, Chloe.” My eyes fall shut as the words burn on my tongue. But I can’t tell her, not now when she’s falling asleep from both the cough medicine and from feeling ill.

“Good,” she mumbles. “I’ll say something romantic back when I feel better.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She tips her head up to mine, eyes strained from the pain of her headache, and makes a move to kiss me but stops. “I don’t want to make you sick.”

“Like I said, I’ve already been exposed. Actually, how long have you felt sick?”

“When I got on the plane,” she tells me. “I thought if I ignored it, it would go away.”

“You sound like Mason,” I tease. “And that makes it more than forty-eight hours. There’s nothing on the market yet that’s been proven to help with the flu after an onset of symptoms past two days.”

“Next time I’ll start complaining sooner.”

“You’re not complaining,” I assure her. “Taking care of yourself, resting when you need to rest, not working when you’re sick, and not pushing yourself until the point of exhaustion need to be normalized. This hustle all day everyday mentality people have now is causing so many health problems.”

“You sound like such a doctor.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” I ask with a laugh.

“No.” She shivers again and pulls her arms in close to her body. “Under any other circumstance, it would be hot.”

“I’ll make sure to have another medical TED Talk when you’re feeling better.”

“I’m gonna hold you to it.” Her eyes flutter shut again.

“Lay down, babe. I’ll check your temperature in twenty minutes to see if it went down.”

“You’re so good to me.”

“Sleep,” I tell her and smooth her hair back. “I’m going to make myself some coffee.”

She grumbles something I can’t quite make out, and I fix the sheet around her slender body before going downstairs. I get the coffee started and pick up my phone to call Mom back, but see I have two more missed calls from Stacey. Slipping out onto the front porch, I call her back, hoping nothing is wrong.

“Hey, Sam,” she says, sounding cheery, which helps ease some of my worry.

“Stacey. Hi. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, it’s really good, actually. Sorry to call you so early, I’m just excited. I got my ultrasound done!”

“You did?” I ask, a little taken aback. We’d talked about going together, and I know I said more than once I wanted to be involved…assuming this is my child. “And everything looks good?”

“I think so. I went to one of those places that does it for fun, not really for medical reasons, since my OB didn’t order one yet. There’s only one baby, don’t worry,” she laughs.

“That’s good. We can get the DNA test done now that we know you’re not having twins.”

“Hmm, sure. Are you coming back to Chicago today? I want to go shopping for baby stuff.”

“That’s good. We…we should make a list of things to get,” I say.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” She pauses for a second. “I called to tell you things look good and to say my lease is up in a few months.”

“Oh,” I reply, not knowing what else to say to that.

“I could sign another lease, but I think we should live together. You know, for the baby. That way you can help with nighttime feedings.”

“I have a one-bedroom apartment,” I state, only able to list facts right now. It’s a coping mechanism, a weird one, I know, but you can’t go wrong with facts, right?

“Your bedroom has plenty space for a crib.”

“Yeah, but where will you—we…we talked about this.” Fuck. The world is spinning and I don’t want to say the wrong thing while trying to do the right thing. I want to be there for my kid, and I should move forward assuming she’s telling the truth, right? When I have a kid, I do want to help with night feedings and changing diapers.

But not with Stacey in my bed, which, call me crazy, is what I think she’s hinting at.

“I know,” she says softly. “It’s not an ideal situation, I know…but it takes two, you know?”

“I do,” I press, swallowing hard. “And I want to be there for the baby, and I want to help you as much as I can too, but Stacey…we’re not together and we’re not going to get together in that sense.”

“Don’t you want to try?” Her voice hitches with emotion, and I hate that she’s hurting. “Try to be a family?”

“I’d love to be a family,” I say slowly, going over the words in my head. There’s no easy way to tell her, just like there’s no easy way to tell Chloe I got my ex pregnant. “That night in June,” I start, knowing whatever I say is going to come out construed. “It was just a hookup, and we both knew that. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh. Is it…is it serious? Serious enough to not even try with me?”

“Yes. We’re really happy together.” For now. “I don’t want to upset you,” I say, words coming out strangled. “I mean it when I say I will be there for the child if…” I trail off, shaking my head. If it’s mine. Stacey is already upset, and she can fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. “Moving in together isn’t a good idea.”

“I disagree,” she counters. “It’s good for kids to have both parents.”