Happily Divorced

(36) Ex-wife

Chassie George

I padded quietly inside Nathan's bedroom, glad that the curtains were not drawn. I didn't want to flick the light on because it might startle him. The streetlights flood his room and although it's not all the way bright, it was a right amount of "dim." I put the tray on his nightstand with the bowl of fancy looking soup along with the pills.

"Nathan?" I gently tap his arm and took a seat on the side of the bed. I reached for the lampshade when he stirred.

His hand went up to rub his eyes. Groaning, he buried his face further to his pillow.

"You need to eat." I press a hand over his shoulder, relieved that his temperature has dropped a few notches.

"I'm not hungry."

"I know but you need to eat. Maybe just a couple of bites. Please?" I sweep his hair away from his forehead.

"Okay."

"Do you need help standing up?"

He struggled for a bit, so I took it as a yes. I helped him sit upright, bunched up pillows behind him for support. I took the tray off the nightstand and started feeding him the soup.

He took one sip and look at me like I grown two heads. "You cooked?"

Not even the flu can deprive him of the fact that I'm a terrible cook. "I ordered in."

He nods and opened his mouth. He just had three spoonfuls when he shook his head. "No more."

I set the tray on the nightstand, this time taking the medicine with a glass of water. "Okay. Now take your meds."

He groaned. "Do I have to? My tongue tastes bitter enough already."

"Yes, you have to. Open your mouth."

He sighed and did as what he was told. I place the medicine to his tongue and ushered the tip of the glass to his lips.

He tried not to spill but he did. His sweater had a soaked straight line to his abdomen where water trickled down. "Now I look like I just drooled all over myself."

I chuckled. "We'll get you a new holiday sweater." I put the glass back on the nightstand.

"This sweater has helped me through the cold," he says in protest.

I walked toward the walk-in closet, rummaging through the drawers. "Don't fall asleep yet."

"I'm just resting my eyes," he whispers weakly.

I pulled out a well folded sweater that's not holiday themed and rush back to the bedroom. "Okay. I got you a more decent looking sweater."

He took the gray sweater, his lids drooping. "Don't criticize this sweater. Your mom gave this to me."

"And you kept it?"

"I was trying to impress my mother in-law." He started taking off his wet sweater. I waited for him to change but he seems to be taking eternity.

"Let me give you a hand." I scooted closer and help him tug his sweater off his head. His arm slowly peeled off the sleeve, each one taking forever.

I took the fresh sweater and wore it on him. If I let him do it by himself, he wouldn't be done by dawn.

Sleepily, he inserted his hands to the sleeves. "Feels better."

I pluck misplaced fabrics to their rightful place. I straightened the wrinkled parts, although he's just going to crinkle them back when he sleeps.

"Thank you," he whispers.

I let my hand to tuck back his unruly hair. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm doing this because I care."

His hand went around my wrist, ushering my palm to his cheek. He closes his eyes, leaning to it.

The gesture was utterly adorable that my heart thawed in my chest.

Nathan took out a long sigh. His thumb draws small circles on my wrist. His baby blue eyes cloaked by long lashes bore into mine. If the flu has given him anything physically, it's the adorable vulnerability. And the intense hooded gaze sending shivers down my spine.

I swallowed so hard, my heart beating erratically.

Nathan tugs on my wrist, drawing me close. Then his hand hooked behind my neck, his mouth stamping on mine in a possessive kiss. Like it was meant for him to take. It wasn't a sweet exploration like last time. It was staking a claim.

Different but unnerving all the same.

Years of only seeing the noble hero in him clouded over the intense kisses we used to have. And that he's a bossy and remarkable kisser.

My palms settled on his chest. His hands took a bolder path to my sides, hot against my shirt as he touches me all over as if trying to commit every inch of me to his memory. He seizes my bottom lip between his teeth – a demand and a plea.

I obliged.

But he freezes then pulled back with a curse.

My eyes flew open, reeling from the loss of his touch.

His forehead pressed on mine. A frown formed between his brows.

I gulp. My heart sank.

He sighed sharply then: "Fuck. I might have just given you the flu."

It kindled a soft laugh from my throat. I smiled, placing a soft kiss on his nose.

Book 3

Audrey Danler swore to forget that one drunken wedding hookup she had with Vren Parkinson. It was definitely doable. Except that one mistake resulted to a positive pregnancy test. And now she's stuck with a man she would've never bat an eye at when she's sober. It was supposed to be just a mistake. Not a commitment.