Page 26 of Daddy's Reckoning
“Morning.” I pulled myself into a sitting position against the headboard.
He carried in a tray like he did every morning with what he considered a suitable breakfast. An egg-white omelet packed with veggies, a bowl of fruit, some quartered, roasted, seasoned potatoes, and a piece of toast with the thinnest layer of butter I’d ever seen. A cup of orange juice despite me telling him that I hated it and it gave me heartburn, a cup of tea—decaf of course, because apparently I wasn’t allowed any joy in life—and a huge tumbler of ice water to last me through the first half of the day.
Today I eyed the breakfast and fought nausea that was rolling over me in waves. “Not yet,” I muttered, covering my mouth in case I had to jump up and run to the bathroom. I waved my hand toward the nightstand. “Put it over there.”
Theo, bless him, did just that, then sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, regarding me with worried eyes. “Maybe we should get you something for the nausea.”
“You could try feeding me ginger ale and saltines in the morning instead of a huge-ass five-course spread,” I snapped. Not only was I grossly overexaggerating his efforts, I was being a dick about it.
Thankfully, Theo was a saint. “I’ll order some immediately,” he promised.
I had no doubt that if he had his phone on him he’d be ordering as we spoke. I couldn’t so much as hint at a need without Theo placing an Instacart order that very second. It was annoying, but also endearing as hell. Just another reason I needed to get out of here so badly.
“How are you feeling?”
He leaned over to open the nightstand drawer where he kept the pressure cuff and thermometer, and I rolled my eyes.
“I’m fine,” I grumbled. “Has it ever occurred to you that it might just be slightly high because it’s white-coat syndrome?” I named the phenomenon that caused people to have elevated blood pressure every time a doctor took it.
Theo raised his brow and cocked his head. “I have not considered that,” he said carefully, his voice holding an edge of dry sarcasm. “I didn’t think it would apply here, because you are a doctor, and I am not.”
Crabbily, I crossed my arms over my chest. “It could still apply.”
“Could it?” A slow grin spread across his face. “Are you saying I make you nervous?”
Shit. I hadn’t considered how my protests would show my hand. Glaring at him, I said nothing and stuck my arm out. He fastened the cuff and pumped it up, watching the numbers closely. I didn’t ask, because I didn't have to. I knew it was high.
Theo sighed deeply, put away the cuff, and got out the thermometer, even though I hadn’t had a temperature to speak of since that first night. I held my breath while he rolled it across my forehead, then smiled at the reading. “We just need to get that blood pressure under control.”
We both knew that was easier said than done, so I just stared at him.
“Eat your breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.” I was. I was starving but still nauseous, and just wanting to be stubborn.
“Be a good girl and eat it, anyway,” he answered with a wink. “I might have a surprise for you this evening. We might get to go on a field trip later.”
Despite the fact that he was speaking to me like I was a kindergartner—easily bribed into eating food I didn’t want with the promise of an outing? my interest was piqued. Still, I didn’t let on. “Oooh do I get to go home?”
He stared at me deadpan.
I kept going. “Did you decide you’re ready to sleep in your own bed?”
“I decided I’m ready to sleep in a bed.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he turned and stalked out of the room, leaving me staring behind him. A thousand possible meanings ran through my head, but they got more and more absurd. Of course, this was Theo. Anything was possible.
CHAPTER 7
ERIN
‘Anything was possible’ was right. With all the ideas I’d had, this had never crossed my mind. ‘This’ ended up being a fully furnished, two-story colonial home in downtown Philly.
“You bought a house for the sake of having a guest room?” I gasped when he led me into a fully decorated guest space with a luxurious king-size bed, a fireplace with a built-in flat screen above it, and a huge recliner with TV trays next to it. It was very obvious that the room and everything in it was designed with me in mind.
“Of course not,” Theo answered, as if my summation was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “It also has a nursery, a main suite, two offices—one for me and one for you—and a backyard with a swing set.”
Tearing my gaze away from the fireplace, which I was entranced by, I blinked at him. There were so many things wrong with what he was saying, I didn’t know where to start. “You bought a house?” I repeated dumbly. “Just like that? You had a problem and instead of thinking, ‘I’m being a little stubborn, I should just let her go home,’ your thought process was, ‘I have a problem, let me buy a whole-ass house to fix it’?”