“I wanted to jump on really quick to say thank you so much for all your sweet, kind messages. As you can see, I’m still hospitalized. I’m exhausted but feeling better. I’m really hoping I’ll be out of here soon so I can get back to work and give you some Kellie and Marcus teasers.”

My voice is scratchy, and I’m so thankful for the filter I’m using. I post the video and then attempt to read through some of the important emails Rebecca flagged and forwarded to me. I have about half an hour until visiting hours begin and Sam will come back. He insisted he’d be able to come earlier, that most hospitals are pretty lenient as long as the visitors are polite and quiet. As much as I want him crowded in the little bed next to me again, I feel bad that he’ll be stuck here all day. He has to be bored out of his mind. I am, and I can hardly stay awake.

I reply to an email from my editor, telling her I’m going to be a few days behind sending her the next couple chapters since I’m currently out of commission. I skim over an email from Vanessa after that. The email isn’t addressed only to me, but to several of the best-selling author she represents, asking if we’d be interested at speaking at a national romance writers convention in the spring. I’ve sat in on panels and hosted Q&A sessions at book cons before, and they always make me so freaking nervous.

I’m relatively new compared to some authors who are twenty-plus years into their writing careers already. Imposter syndrome is real, and the way it impacts younger women both fascinates and depresses me. I have a hard time fitting in when I’m sitting on the stage next to a romance writing queen, with fifty or more books under her belt, all bestsellers.

Too tired to read the fine print about the convention, I lie back. With only the IV line in my arm, I still can’t twist onto my side like usual, but it’s so much more comfortable without the cuff around my arm and those itchy wires stuck to my chest. I’m close to falling asleep when someone from the lab comes in to take what hopefully is my last blood sample, giving me a clean bill of health—well, kind of—but good enough for me to get the hell out of here.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.” She puts on clean gloves. “People don’t like me enough when I come to poke them, but waking them up and then poking them makes me even less popular.”

I laugh. “I can see that. I’m not a fan of needles, but if I pretend you’re a vampire taking my blood it makes it much more tolerable.”

The phlebotomist gives me a weird look and goes on to take the blood sample. She closes the door behind her when she leaves to give me some peace and quiet and hopefully sleep. But my phone rings right after that. Grumbling, I force my eyes back open and see Charles’s name on my screen.

“Hey,” I answer.

“You’re in the fucking hospital and didn’t tell me. I had to find out from watching your Instagram stories.”

“I literally just posted it, you stalker.”

“Takes one to know one,” he shoots right back. “What’s the hell is wrong?”

I always feel a little weird talking about what’s physically wrong with me. I’m not dying of cancer—like my mom—and I feel like a baby complaining. I have every right to, and it’s perfectly fine to allow yourself to wallow in misery every once in a while, acknowledging how crappy it feels to just have a cold. “I have the flu,” I start.

“Fuck, it must be bad if you’re in the hospital because of it.”

“I had a pretty high fever, but it was the migraine that brought me in, and an allergic reaction to the medication I was given to treat said migraine that caused me to be admitted overnight.”

“That sounds absolutely terrible. I’m sorry, Chloe. You’re going to be okay, aren’t you?”

“I think so, but if I die, I’ll kill your character off too. It won’t matter who’s mad at me if I’m dead.”

“Hilarious. We both know you could never do that to Marcus,” Charles replies. It sounds like he’s on set somewhere, with an action scene going on in the background, because he’s way too calm to be talking me amidst real gunfire.

“I couldn’t. I love him too much. Though sometimes I do think I should make everyone suffer a lot more. It’s good for them, you know? Builds character, and it’s been a while since I killed anyone.”

Charles laughs. “That is true. If you’re going to off someone, do it with style.”

“For sure. It’ll be bloody and violent with slow torture. Being in the hospital gave me some new ideas about murder, actually,” I say right as the door opens. Sam walks in, followed by a nurse, who’s giving me the side-eye and probably wondering if she should call security. “I gotta go,” I tell Charles.

“Call me later, don’t die.”

“I’ll try not to, but if I do, I will haunt you.”

“I honestly will be disappointed if you don’t. Make sure that hot doctor boyfriend takes good care of you.”

“He has been,” I say, unable to help but smile. “Bye, Charles.” I end the call and put the phone on the bedside table. “You’re early.”

“I missed you,” Sam tells me. He has a bag full of the personal items I requested, like new underwear, my hairbrush, and PJs so I can change out of this hospital gown.

“Aww, that’s sweet,” my nurse says. She's young and told me she just graduated from nursing school in the spring.

“He’s totally obsessed with me and has been begging me to go out with him for years,” I joke. “I finally said yes.”

The nurse, whose name I can’t remember because it was way too early when she came in and introduced herself, laughs and takes her stethoscope from around her neck to check my pulse.

“Still good,” she says. “Do you need anything?”

“Sleep,” I say with a frown. “I’m tired.”

“It’s hard to sleep here, I know,” she says. “And I need to come back and check your pulse and blood pressure again in about half an hour.”

“Okay,” I say, biting my tongue on asking when I can go home. It’s only been a few minutes since I got my blood taken. It’s not at the lab yet, I’m sure.

“How are you feeling, for real?” Sam asks, coming over and kissing my forehead. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and a navy-blue long-sleeved shirt. His hair is messy, and the perfect amount of stubble covers his sharp jaw. It’s not fair for anyone to be this good-looking with so little effort. Though who I am to complain when I’m the one sleeping with someone that good-looking?

“So tired,” I confess. “I didn’t sleep well last night and everyone and their mother has been in my room today.” I pull back the blankets and pat the bed, motioning for Sam to come join me. “I’m going to get sicker if I don’t sleep.”

“The nurse was right. Resting in a hospital setting is difficult, and I’ve actually seen patients regress from lack of sleep,” he admits ruefully.

“See? I should leave now.”

He kicks off his shoes and lies down next to me. “Let’s see how your labs are. Did anyone come and take blood this morning?”

“Yeah, and I think I freaked the girl out because I tried to make a vampire joke.”