“Oh no,” Cara said, understanding now his delay.

David shook his head. “I put in a claim.” He glanced at Hope clinging to Cara’s leg with a look of confusion on her face. “Sorry I can’t hug you, pumpkin,” he told her gently. “Daddy wants to. You know I do. But I might have a nasty germ and I don’t want you to catch it. Okay?”

Hope nodded, but Cara wasn’t sure how much of that she understood. “Where’s my present?” Hope asked coyly.

“Daddy doesn’t always have to bring you a present,” Cara admonished.

Her face was crestfallen. “But he always does when he comes home from a trip.”

“True,” David said, then lowered so he could look into Hope’s face. “The airline lost my luggage. But it will get here, soon… I hope. And you know what? Your present is in that suitcase.”

Hope frowned and turned, giving him the cold shoulder.

Cara chuckled wryly. “I don’t think our daughter understands the concept of delayed gratification.”

David tried to laugh, but he was so tired it was little more than a smile and a nod of the head. “No gift—no hug. Hey, I get it.”

Taking in the chalkiness of his skin, the droop of his shoulders, Cara grew serious. “How bad was it in London?”

David’s smile fell. “Bad. Cases are rising. I got a message when I landed. A colleague in London tested positive.”

Cara felt her stomach fall. “Oh no.”

“That’s why I’ve got to be extra careful. I have to go straight into quarantine,” he said soberly. “In fact, I shouldn’t be talking to you now,” he added, stepping farther away.

“Quarantine? What does that mean?” She’d heard the word tossed around, but there were no guidelines.

“To start, we have to keep away from each other, completely, for two weeks.”

Cara blew out a stream of air. “Okay, we can do that. You stay in the master bedroom,” she added, beginning to realize what quarantine would entail. “I’ll bring you meals, mail… anything you want.”

“We’ll work out some system.” David tried to sound positive.

“Can’t you get a test? Maybe at the hospital?”

“There are no tests. I called my doctor and he said quarantine was the best thing to do. And wash hands. A lot.”

“I looked up the CDC guidelines online. We’re already hand-washing.”

“We have to do more. Eliminate going out, unless necessary.”

“We can do that. I’m just so glad you’re home.”

David shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s better if I stay away, as in completely away, from you and Hope. No need to panic. It was a long flight, and a big push to get out of London. That’s probably why I’m so exhausted. But I don’t want to take any chances. Not with you two. I’m going to our room—alone. You’ll feel better staying with Hope in the other wing. I won’t leave the suite. I can’t be in the kitchen, either. I hate to ask you to serve me, but it’s safer for you to bring me trays of food and leave them outside the room. Then wash your hands immediately after.”