Invisible String

43

“Oh baby,” I murmured, sitting up slowly. “You’re still warm.”

She crawled over and climbed up with surprising energy for a feverish baby, curling into my side like a little furnace. I gently kissed her damp forehead. Poor thing.

A few minutes later, Travis returned carrying a tray. “Okay, yogurt with honey and walnuts for the queen,” he said as he set it down on the nightstand with a flourish, “and waffles and warm apple juice for the tiny princess, who is now glued to my thigh.”

Behind him, Lily peeked in with her arms crossed. “You forgot the syrup.”

“I did not forget the syrup,” Travis said proudly, holding up a little glass jar like he’d just discovered gold. “Maple. Organic. Straight from the depths of the fridge door.”

I let out a soft laugh as he placed the tray in front of me and kissed the top of my head. “You're too good at this.”

“I’ve been training for this moment my whole life,” he joked, sitting down beside me and reaching to smooth Mira’s hair. “Sick day with my three favorite girls? I’m basically thriving.”

Mira gave a weak little squeal as he kissed her cheek, and Lily climbed up onto the bed with us, sniffling but grinning.

And just like that, despite the coughs, the fevers, and the aching sinuses—we had our cozy little moment.

Travis helped prop up some pillows behind my back so I could eat more comfortably, Mira still pressed to my side like a warm little shadow. She reached for my spoon immediately, of course.

"Okay, little snack thief," I murmured, scooping a bit of the yogurt and letting her take the first bite. She made a soft humming sound like it soothed her sore throat too, then leaned her head on my chest, fully content.

“I think she likes it more than you,” Travis said with a smirk, handing Lily her waffle on a little plate shaped like a cat.

Lily took a bite, syrup already on her cheek. “Is this a stay-home day?” she asked, mouth full.

“Mmhmm,” I nodded. “Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re the doctor,” Travis teased.

“Exactly. I say sick girls get to eat breakfast in bed and then watch a movie with a bunch of blankets and no pants.”

Lily gasped. “No pants?”

Mira clapped softly, clearly supportive of this pants-free agenda.

After we all ate, Travis carried the trays out and came back in with Mira’s sippy cup and a stack of cozy blankets. He draped them over the foot of the bed and collapsed beside me with a groan. “Okay. Movie time. But you pick, Tay. I’ll watch whatever, even if it’s that sad girl movie with the lady and the piano.”

“You mean Little Women?” I said with a raised eyebrow.

“Exactly,” he nodded. “So much crying. So many period outfits.”

Lily chimed in, “I wanna watch the one with the reindeer!”

We eventually settled on Frozen, again, because comfort movies are undefeated on sick days. I curled into Travis’s side with Mira asleep on my chest, her fever finally starting to drop, and Lily curled into a pile of pillows with her blanket and stuffed bunny.

It was slow, and sniffly, and sweet—and as much as I hated being sick, I wouldn’t have traded that morning for anything.

By lunchtime, I hadn’t moved much from the bed—because Mira hadn’t let me. She was plastered to my chest like a little furnace, her cheeks flushed pink, her curls damp from the low-grade fever that stubbornly refused to quit. The only “solid” she’d taken in all day was a single bite of that Greek yogurt during breakfast, and even that felt like a miracle at the time.