Lucky Number Four (40 page)

“I’ll try harder, Mom, but it’s difficult
when the object I’m supposed to be helping is absent all the time.
Don’t worry, I’ll fix this.” I get up and put my arms around her
and she leans back. I kiss the top of her head. “Love you, Mom.
Jeff and I have to go. We’ve got an early class tomorrow.” I kiss
her cheek and we walk arm in arm back into the living room.

“So Henry didn’t tell? What a relief for you
now, but if it’s your job to help Drew, then that’s what needs to
happen,” Jeff says, driving back to his apartment.

“Did you see the tabloid when we went grocery
shopping yesterday? Did Drew look like he needs help, or is pining
for me? No. He looked happy posing with Angela. So no more talk
about Drew. I’ll handle my mom if it comes up again.”

“Okay, I’ll butt out. We need to concentrate
on graduating anyway, and we have no time for love.”

“Wait. What about Liam? You haven’t done
anything stupid, have you?” I turn to look at him and see him
smiling in the light from the dash.

“No. We’re taking it slow. It’s a new world
for him, and I understand that, so we talk on the phone most
nights. He’ll be gone for a month, so we’ll see.”

“I hope he sees what a catch you are. What am
I saying? Your ego is big enough already. Scratch that from your
memory.” We burst out laughing, and it feels good. I haven’t
laughed it what seems like forever.

Valentine’s Day. It’s either a truly
wonderful day or it sucks. And mine is at an epic level of
suck.

Waking up this morning, I threw up violently,
which means I either have the stomach flu or food poisoning. It
doesn’t even matter because I don’t have a date or someone to share
this “great” holiday with. Not like I could if I did, since I have
this whole upchucking thing going on. Jeff brings me a cool
washcloth and places it on my forehead, and it makes me feel at
least fifty percent better.

“I’ll stop by all your classes and get any
work you need to finish. You just stay in bed and drink plenty of
fluids. The last thing you need to do is get dehydrated.”

“I will. Jeff, don’t call my mom. I just want
to just lay here and die in peace.”

“You’re not going to die. It’s just the flu,
and you’re healthy, so you should get over it fast. Is there
anything you need before I go, besides another stomach?”

Yep, Mr. Psychic knows what I was going to
say.

“No. Just go to class and don’t come home.
You have a date tonight, so take your clothes with you and dress at
the loft. If I die, I’ll call and let you know.” I give a
halfhearted laugh and then shoot out of bed, making it to the
porcelain God just in time.

“I don’t think I should leave you,” Jeff says
as he holds my hair.

“Get me some Saltines and I’ll nibble on
those. I’m sure I’ll feel better soon. Now, go and stop mothering
me. Thanks for holding my hair, and I love you, so scoot.”

I make it back to bed, barely, and Jeff
brings me three bottles of water and a box of Saltines, blows me a
kiss, and leaves after telling me to call him if I need
anything.

I look at the clock. It’s been three hours
since Jeff left for school, and with the nap, some water, and
Saltines, I’m feeling better. Okay, I feel better as long as I
don’t move.

I can’t remember the last time I was sick. I
just never had the time. Before I fell asleep, I did call work and
tell them I was sick, and my boss was in awe that the mighty
Pandora Phillips had allowed a bug to bring her down. I’ve never
missed a day of work in more than four years. I should get a medal
or something for that. She told me to get better and call her when
I was up to it.

I turn on the television and the morning
shows are full of helpful hints of what to get and do with your
love on this special day. Great. I flip channels, and every movie
station is showing romantic films, so I turn it off.

Since I’ve changed my number, I’ve had no
more missed calls from Drew. I avoid the tabloids so I don’t have
to see that he’s moved on. My heart hasn’t healed like I had hoped
it would. I type “how long does it take a broken heart to mend”
into to Google, but don’t get a definitive answer. I’ll have to
wait, I guess, and then one day it may fix itself.

My cell rings and I grab it off the bedside
table. It’s Jeff.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” I reply.

“Are you lying to me?”

I roll my eyes as if he can see me.

“Rolling your eyes is not an answer.”

“I’m better—ate a handful of Saltines, drank
some water, and thankfully haven’t vomited once since you left. So
stop worrying and just enjoy your time with Liam.”

“Okay, but if you need me, I’m only a phone
call away. Get some sleep and I’ll call you again in a few hours.
Bye, love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.”