She pushed the tray to the side. Keiran swooped down to grab it up, body hovering over her, face too close. “You’re breathing in my flu germs,” she pointed out.

He took his sweet time pulling back. “I’ll be fine. If I do get sick, you’ll be the first to receive a whiny “I’m dying” text. Need anything else?”

She needed him gone. He’d done enough already. She appreciated the soup, but she didn’t need the guy she was hooking up with buzzing around while she looked a hot mess. “I need a shower,” she mumbled, “and no, you can’t help with that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of offering.” That smirk said otherwise.

She slid back down onto her back. After Keiran left, she’d get her shower sorted out. “I just need to be better before my birthday,” she mumbled.

They’d been planning it for weeks. The gift vouchers she’d won were going to be put to use. Spa day with Remi for their actual birthday on the Friday which would lead into clubbing later in the evening. They’d also planned to overnight at the Hyatt so no one would have to drive back after whatever tipsy shenanigans bar hopping brought. Then Saturday night was the surprise party Cherisse wasn’t supposed to know about, but Remi had given her the heads up, thankfully. Cherisse wasn’t keen on surprises, but her mother never listened.

She had two weeks to get rid of this cold so she could enjoy her twenty-ninth birthday. She really should get up for that shower, but her foggy brain and tired, achy limbs were making that difficult.

“Sweet dreams, Sugar Queen,” she heard before she drifted off again.

#

KEIRAN

Remi ignored him when he came downstairs with the tray and empty soup bowl. She was still staring at her laptop. When he’d shown up earlier, he’d been certain she wasn’t going to let him in. She’d stood at the door, eyes raking him up and down, brow raised at the Tupperware container of soup.

“Brought food. Smart.” Then she’d stepped aside for him to enter.

He’d expected some kind of ‘what are your intentions with my friend?’ type interrogation, but she’d merely told him Cherisse was likely already in dreamland courtesy of some cold meds. He’d been surprised she’d let him hang out until Cherisse woke up, and he could take the soup up to her.

“Do I just leave this in the sink?” He lifted the tray.

She didn’t look away from her laptop. “Sure.”

He considered leaving the bowl in the sink, but his mother’s voice in his ear scolding about washing up after himself was loud enough for him to rinse out the bowl and spoon and stash them in the appropriate slots on the draining board. He left the tray on the counter. His mother’s Tupperware bowl had already been washed and dried off, so he grabbed that up. Figured this was his cue to leave. He walked back out to the living room, expecting to just sail out the door.