Of course, he’d told her every time she was crazy and the offer was this side of insulting. He’d say, “Wait until you see what I saddle you with someday. You’ll wish you were the one who left,” always with a wry smile.

He must really love her, because it wasn’t like he was in it for the sex. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been well enough to even contemplate getting busy under the sheets. She’d have to rectify that this summer. Maybe some good, clean air would do what doctors and meds couldn’t.

Doctors and meds and treatments and surgeries.

It was a toss-up whether they were doing more harm than good.

This summer, she’d find a way to feel somewhat better. Not just for her, but for Andrew.

And yes, she’d drink those miserable shakes by the gallon if Andrew insisted.

After everything, she owed that to him.

Buttons shifted on the bed, lying across her lower legs, his warmth making her sleepy.

At least there were no bad feels and lurking shadows up here. The cottage would replace them with good feels. She’d left her shadow peeper in Jersey.

Her stomach fluttered and she felt a stabbing pain in her back where Dr. K had stuck her over a month ago. The flare of agony was fleeting, but it left her strangely hot and weak.

It’s like walking through a ghost, she thought, wiping a fresh sheen of sweat from her forehead. Only ghosts are cold. This is…different. What the hell is it now? I can’t even catch a break for a full day? Shivering yet burning under the covers, she closed her eyes and rode it out, doing her best to ignore the unsettling sensation of being on a rotating dish in a microwave.

Chapter Seven

Andrew woke up a little after nine. He was normally an early riser, even on weekends, but yesterday had worn him out. He’d wanted to surprise Kate by setting everything up for her in the living room so the lake and evergreens were her constant companions.

She stirred a little when he got out of bed. Her skin was fish-belly pale, her hair plastered to her head. She had a nice fever going. He woke her to take something for the fever. She swallowed the pills and went right back out. He wondered if she was even aware she was in the bed in the living room.

He drank his coffee on the back porch, no shoes on his feet, the morning chill numbing his toes. An older couple of kayakers drifted past the dock – his dock, for the summer at least – and waved when they spotted him.

“You don’t see that in Jersey.”

It was way too cold to swim. The realtor told him the lake warmed up right around July Fourth. That was less than a month away.