Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“Morning, Legend,” Lyra, our receptionist, greets me.
“Morning.”
“Wow, what’s up? Are you sick or something?” Maddox asks.
“No. I didn’t get much sleep. Monroe is still sick. She coughed all night long, and I kept waking up to make sure she didn’t need me.”
“Aw,” Lyra coos. “Look at you being a good husband.”
I ignore her comment. I’m not in the mood to defend how much I love my wife. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.
“Damn, she’s been sick forever,” Maddox replies.
“About two weeks now. She’s been on antibiotics for six days, but I can’t see any kind of improvement. I made her promise me she’d go back to the doctor when she finishes this round if she’s not any better. I know these things take time, but damn, I really thought that with antibiotics, she’d be okay by now.”
“She has bronchitis, right?” Lyra asks. “I know that can be brutal, and the cough can linger for a while.”
“That’s what they told us at urgent care, but I think she’s getting worse, not better.”
“She might need a stronger antibiotic or a different course.”
“Yeah. I just want her to heal. I hate seeing her like this.”
“Let me know if I can do anything.” Maddox tells me.
“Thanks, man. Is it just us today?”
“Yeah. Lilly has a checkup, so Rome took the day off, and Lachlan and Forrest are both working Saturday.”
I nod and head to my room to get ready for my first client of the day. While I’m setting up, my phone rings. I rush to pull it from my pocket, thinking it might be Monroe. “Hey, Mom.”
“How’s Monroe feeling?”
I smile because my mother and my wife have grown close. “She’s not any better. I tried to convince her to let me stay home and take her back to the doctor today, but she’s determined to finish her antibiotics, and then, if she’s not better, she’ll go back.”
“Well, sweetheart, she might have a point. I hate that she’s not any better, but sometimes these things take time.”
“I know. I just hate feeling helpless.”
“How about I make her some of my homemade chicken soup?”
“Yeah, I think she’d like that. I can swing by after work to pick it up.”
“No. You go on home. I’ll bring it to your place around six.”
“Thanks, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I shove my phone back into my pocket and smile for the first time today. My mom’s chicken soup is so good. I know Monroe hasn’t had an appetite, but there is no way she can turn that down.
Lyra brings back my first client, and I get lost in my work. Four hours later, I’m wrapping up with the guy in my chair. “Lyra will cash you out and go over aftercare instructions. Thanks for coming in.”
“It’s dope,” the kid tells me. “I’ll be back for more. I want a sleeve.”
“Sounds good. Lyra can take care of that too.”
He nods and rushes out the door. He’s twenty and well on his way to being ink addicted. Nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s good for business.
Grabbing my phone, I call Monroe to check on her.
“Hey,” she croaks.
“How you feeling?”
“Same.”
“Did you eat something?”
“I had two pieces of toast. I’m not hungry.”
She already knows I’m going to tell her she needs to eat.
“My mom called to check on you. She’s going to make you some of her homemade chicken soup and bring it by tonight.”
“That’s sweet of her. She doesn’t have to do that.”
“She volunteered, and trust me, her soup is so good, it could change lives.”
She laughs, which sends her into a coughing fit, making me feel bad for trying to cheer her up.
“You need me to come home?”
She sighs. “Legend, I’m okay. I’ll see you when you get home tonight.”
“Do you need me to stop and pick anything up?”
“I don’t think so. You’ve been stockpiling things you think I might need for the past two weeks.”
She’s not wrong. “Well, if you think of something, call or text, and I’ll bring it home.”
“Thanks, babe.”
“Love you, Mo.”
“I love you too.”
Damn, this day can’t be over fast enough.
My last client of the day isn’t even finished paying, and I’m out the door. I’m anxious to get home to check on Monroe. It’s just before five when I’m pulling into the garage. The house is quiet as I head toward our room. I can hear the shower running. That’s a good sign that she felt strong enough to get out of bed and shower. Stepping into our room, I debate on stripping down to shower with her, but I know she’s not feeling well. I’ll just keep her company until she’s done. Then I’ll help her dry off and put her back in bed or carry her out to the couch until Mom gets here with dinner.
When I push open the bathroom door, my heart stalls in my chest. “Monroe!” I call out to her as I drop to my knees. She’s lying on the floor, naked. The shower is running, the steam from the hot spray filling the room. That’s a good sign the water is still hot, so she couldn’t have been lying here long.