It felt good to work and forget about zombies for a while. Lindy and I narrowed our cover photo choices to ten. We only needed to weed out three and we were golden. About eleven AM, my stomach reminded me to eat a snack, and I left the collab room to fetch a protein bar. When I neared my desk, I noticed a runner setting a bouquet of flowers on it.
"Are those for me?" I said as I admired the bright yellow daffodils.
"Are you Reese Valentino?" he asked, glancing at the tiny envelope stuck inside a long, gold clip.
"That's me."
The runner saluted and scurried off, leaving me in charge of the bouquet, and Lindy walked over with her eyes twinkling.
"Those are gorgeous. Who sent them to you?"
"Probably my husband. If not, they better be from a female or my dad."
Lindy laughed while I tried to get the envelope unclipped. The writing on the front said To Reese from Vincent. So that settled that. This was definitely my darling husband apologizing for his shitty accusation yesterday.
"Geez. What's the problem with this clip? It won't open." Working with my thick-as-steel fingernails, I pried the clip open and snatched the envelope, but the clasp caught the tip of my finger as it snapped shut and blood quickly pooled from a fresh cut. "The son-of-a-bitch bit me!"
"Oh, no. That's not right, Reese. I'll write down the name of the florist and complain to them about their dangerous clips. There are band-aids in the breakroom."
"I'm sure I'll be good." I sucked the blood from my finger as I opened the envelope with my thumb. The enclosed card was written in a neat hand; If you want to cure the fever, you need to fetch the book.
What the heck did Vincent mean by that? If he was going for morbid humor, he failed miserably.
"What does it say? Can you share it?" Lindy looked eager but, unfortunately, I had to dash her hopes.
"It's an inside joke. You wouldn't get it."
"So, it's dirty, then." She grinned, looking appeased, as she sat down at her desk, and I placed a call to Vincent as I continued to suck my injured finger.
"Hi, Reese. You want to get lunch?"
"Uh, sure. I actually called about the flowers. I didn't get the joke."
"What flowers?"
"The flowers you sent me. They arrived just now. They're beautiful, but I don't under..."
"I didn't send you flowers, Reese."
Yikes.
"Well, the envelope says they're from you to me. And the card inside has this cryptic message. If you want to cure the fever, you need to fetch the book. Who else would know about..."
"Get away from those flowers, Reese!" Vincent's shout echoed loud enough that Lindy heard him, and her head snapped up to look at me. "Call someone and have the flowers removed from the building. Or remove yourself from the building. I'll be there as soon as I can."
I glared at the cheerful yellow blooms. "Okay. I'll have the runner come back and get them. Should he keep the evidence somewhere?"
"Have him leave them in the mailroom. That should be far enough away from you. How are you feeling?" Vincent's respirations had picked up, and I imagined him grabbing his jacket and keys as he left the apartment. I did the same, walking away from my desk as I eyeballed the daffodils from my peripherals.
"I feel fine."
"Good. Call me if anything strange happens."
I knew what he meant by strange so I didn't ask him to elaborate. As soon as I hung up the phone, I gestured to Lindy from my position two yards away. "Will you have someone from the mailroom come up and get those flowers? Vincent didn't send them, and he wants them confiscated."
"What? Who sent them?" Lindy sprang into action, picking up the phone then dropping it nervously on her desk as she dialed.
"We don't know, but Vincent wants them sequestered in the mailroom until he gets here."
Lindy nodded as she relayed the information to the person on the phone, and when she hung up, her attention was immediately drawn to my finger, which didn't want to stop bleeding.
"You need a band-aid. C'mon. There's a first-aid kit in the breakroom."
I followed Lindy through the long corridor of cubicles until we reached the breakroom on the other side. A couple of early-lunchers were already eating, their cellphones propped against their coolers as they read. Lindy directed me to a stiff-backed chair next to the sink and played nursemaid, pulling the antiseptic and band-aids from the kit on the wall.
"I'm definitely going to report that nasty clip to the florist. That's a surefire way to scare off customers," she said.
"It was probably a fluke. I'm sure not all the clips are evil." As I spoke, a funny feeling came over me, like a wave of nausea was about to hit. I was grateful to be sitting. "Did you see a thermometer in the first-aid kit?"
"Do you need one? Are you feverish?"
"I'm not sure. It's probably just paranoia, you know, after that scare in DC. But it can't hurt to check, right?"
"Damn right." Lindy finished up with my finger and rummaged through the kit. "Here we go. It's the old-fashioned kind, without the beeps. It still has the paper on it."
"Good. I'd rather not share." I took the thermometer from her and put it under my tongue. As I waited for the mercury to rise, another wave hit me, and this one had some fire attached to it. I closed my eyes and tried not to succumb to the feeling of sudden weightlessness. I was starting to worry when I pulled the thermometer out of my mouth and held it out with a trembling hand. "Can you read that, Lindy?"
"Do you get queasy at the sight of blood?" she said as she held my wrist to steady it. "Wow, Reese. You feel warm." She leaned over the thermometer and squinted her eyes. "One hundred point three. That's not good. Did you wake up feeling sick?"
"Nope. You need to call me an ambulance." I wasn't going to waste time guessing whether this was the real thing or not. I just dialed Vincent while Lindy yanked her cell out of her pocket to call 911.
"Reese, what's up?"
"Don't come to Mega Mag. Meet me at the hospital."
"Why? What happened?"
"I think it has something to do with the flowers, or maybe the clip that held the note. I snapped my finger in it and Lindy just now stopped the blood flow."
"Do you need stitches?"
"No, but while I got bandaged up, I started feeling strange. So, I took my temperature and it's already over one hundred."
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I held the phone away from my head and Lindy caught an earful. "Do not hang up the phone. Is there someone there with you?"
"Yes. Lindy and a couple of people eating lunch." I could feel sweat building up on my palm, and I looked at Lindy as she watched me with unblinking eyes. "Can you get me some ice?"
"Sure." Lindy rushed around the tiny kitchen while Vincent talked in my ear.
"When was the last time you checked your temperature?"
"A minute ago. I'm still in command of my faculties. This is just a precaution. I don't want to take any chances."
"You did the right thing."
Another powerful gust of heat blew through me, and my ears started humming. Was that my heartbeat or my breath?
"Reese?" Vincent's voice sounded farther away than before, and I stuck the thermometer back under my tongue because I remembered he'd asked about it.
"I'm here," I said, pulling it back out. "Just taking my temp again. So, I won't be able to talk for a minute." My head had found the wall, which offered the perfect resting place while I waited, although Lindy was making me dizzy as she bounced around like a jack-in-the-box.
"I've got your ice pack ready, Reese." Suddenly, Lindy was standing in front of me holding out a lumpy dishrag tied with a hair elastic, which I assumed was hers. "My mom used to make ice packs for us kids with dishrags. Don't worry. This one is brand new from the drawer."
"Thanks, Lindy." I handed the thermometer to her as I took the icepack. It felt heavier than it looked, or maybe I was just feeling weak. She gasped when she looked at the thermometer.
"This is saying you're already at one hundred and two. That can't be right."
"Sure, it can."
"What's your temperature now, Reese?" Vincent demanded. He was so bossy sometimes.
"One hundred and two." I yanked the phone away from my ear as Vincent cursed into it, and I focused on Lindy, whose body was starting to ripple. "Can you find me a couch or something? I need to lay down. Do you think the floor is clean?" I slid off the end of the uncomfortable chair and onto my knees, grateful I'd worn pants instead of a skirt.
"Reese, wait. I'll help you." Lindy hurried to help but I was already curled up on the tiles in the fetal position, trying to ignore the smell of stale coffee under my cheek.
"What's happening? Talk to me, baby." I heard Vincent's voice through the phone, which was plastered to my ear by a slick film of sweat. He sounded worried.
"I'm here, Vincent. Still waiting for the ambulanza." I chuckled when I realized I had used the Italian version of the word. "Do you remember riding in the ambulanza in Italy? No, you probably don't. You were in a coma. I thought I'd lost you."
I sniffled and a tear dropped from my cheek onto the tile. Or was that sweat? Either way, it felt cool under my hot skin.
"But you didn't lose me," Vincent said. "And I don't want to lose you. Please, don't cry."
It was too late for that. I had begun to sob softly into my sleeve, and when the paramedics arrived, I had to hand off the phone to Lindy. From there, I was only vaguely aware of her presence as the talkative medics wheeled me away from the breakroom and into the elevator. I listened to them drone on about IV's and pain relievers. I wanted to make sure they knew I was pregnant, so they wouldn't give me anything that might hurt the baby, but my ability to speak had failed me. I was merely a spectator now.
Darkness settled in once or twice, but I remembered the lights in the ambulance, then again in the ER, and when I finally woke up in a hospital room, Vincent's eyes were the first to greet me, all gray and bloodshot. Although he looked tortured, his beautiful face was a far-sight better than looking at a dirty breakroom floor.
"Hey, you," I said as I reached for him.
"Hey, you." Vincent pressed my hand to his lips and kissed me multiple times. His mouth felt warm. It was a good warm. "How are you feeling?"
"Comfortable. How are you feeling?"
"Strung-out but happy. Do you remember the fetal doppler they used on you?"
"No, why? The baby? What's..."
"It's all good, babe. I wanted to be sure you knew that right away. They're going to keep you here for twenty-four hours. Just in case."
I knew what he meant by just in case. "Whatever the doctors think is best," I told him. "You look tired, Vincent. Go home and get some rest. I'm sure they won't let me flatline here."
Vincent grimaced. "Don't even joke about it. I've stared at your unconscious face too many times, and I'm this close to putting you on house arrest for the remainder of this pregnancy."
"We both know that's not going to happen. I have to get the book, remember? That's what it said on the card. To cure the fever, I need to fetch the book. There's no way around it. This was a warning."
Vincent pursed his lips as he filled his lungs with air. "There's always a way around things. I've got the magisters working on it. I've sent Rizzo to get the flowers, but he wanted to stop by the hospital to check on you first. He's outside waiting for me to give him the green light."
"Of course."
Vincent sent Rizzo a text, and, seconds later, my favorite ex-pat waltzed in sporting a brand-new haircut. He usually wore his hair in a ponytail, which enhanced his persona as a subway crazy. Now, his fair, brown locks swooped over his forehead in a perfect man wave. In spite of the hair gel sheen, he looked hot.
"Hey, Rizzo. I love the hair," I said. "You're going to blow your cover. Nobody will believe you're a crazy now."
Rizzo's face reddened, although it only enhanced his already ruddy complexion, and he shot Vincent an uncertain glance. "I told the signorina not to use the gel, but she convinced me I would love it."
"Do you love it?" I asked.
"Well, she asked me for a date after she cut my hair, so I will wear it this way for her."
Vincent chuckled. "How long has it been since you've gone on a date?"
Rizzo looked thoughtful as he squinted at the ceiling, but he was probably just pretending to do the math. "About three years."
"Keep the gel," Vincent told him.
The door opened again, and Sylvie and Colin walked in. When Sylvie saw me in my hospital gown and IV drip, she dove for the bed.
"Holy crap, Reese! You had me worried. Do I gotta lock you in your room to keep you safe?"
"Don't give Vincent any ideas," I said. "He's already threatened to put me on house arrest."
"I would visit you every day." Sylvie planted a cinnamon-flavored kiss on my mouth, smiling through her worry, which I loved her for. "Oh, my God, Rizzo! Your hair is fabulous. You look like a rock star."
Sylvie's compliment had Rizzo turning redder, and I saw Colin scowl into his collar. "Grazie, Sylvie. I need to go now," he said hastily. "But I will check on you soon, Reese. Until then, be well."
Rizzo saluted Colin and Vincent with a chin jut, and Sylvie settled her butt on the edge of my bed, giving no indication she was ready to leave.
"You good, Reese?" Colin said as he offered me a weary smile. "You know, you're allowed to have a normal life."
"I thought I gave up normalcy when I became a Valentino."
"True that," he said awkwardly. "Hey, Vincent, can I pick your brain about something? We can let the girls talk privately." He glanced over at Sylvie, who offered a resigned nod back.
"Sure. I'll be right outside, Reese." Vincent kissed my forehead, lingering there long enough to make sure I wasn't running a fever.
When the boys were gone, Sylvie walked around my bed to take a seat in Vincent's chair. I could tell she wanted to talk about something, but she probably didn't want to burden me with her problems while I was laid up in a hospital bed.
"What's up, girlfriend? You look like you need an ear to bend."
"Is it that obvious?"
"It's always obvious. I know you as well as I know myself."
Sylvie rested her elbows on the bed, looking at me with solemn blue eyes. "I told Colin we should stop seeing each other. He didn't take it so well."
Ouch.
"You're a heartbreaker, Sylvie. You always have been."
"Well, I don't do it on purpose. Colin only agreed because he wants me to be happy, but he pretty much said it was going to make him miserable. Some girlfriend I am, huh?"
"We both knew it was going to suck even though it was for the best."
"Yeah. Everybody wins but us. At least I don't have some crazy curse trying to do me in. I'm really worried about you, chicka."
"I'm worried about me too...and the baby."
Sylvie bit her lip, and I felt shitty for mentioning the baby. "You're both going to be fine," she said. "I haven't seen you give up a fight yet. Look at you and Vincent. You're like kindling and fire. Have there been any more biting incidents?"
"No. And I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we're over that hurdle."
"But you know how life goes, Reese. There's always another hurdle just waiting to slap you in the face."
I reached for her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. "If it ever comes up, please don't offer to write my eulogy."