8. Caroline

Igroan as I sit up in the hotel bed. My throat is on fire. My shoulders and neck ache. My head hurts. And Walker is crying.

"Just a second, Walker," I croak. I fuzzily remember getting up a few times to feed him after Jake changed his diaper. I felt worse each time, but I was trying to use the power of denial to fight it off.

There's no use denying it now, though. I'm sick.

I look toward Walker's crib and realize he's not there. I have a split second of disorientation before I remember where I am. I'm in a hotel with Jake Summers, and he's changing Walker's diaper for me.

I rub my eyes and flop back to the pillows. "Thank you," I say once I've pieced the situation together. I can feel the sluggishness of my thoughts. It's as if each one is dragging a heavy anchor in its wake.

"Yeah, no problem," Jake says. He gives me a serious look. "You don't sound so good. You feeling alright?"

"I'm good," I say. "Great."

He frowns as he scoops Walker back up, fresh diaper already on. He chucks the dirty diaper in the trash. "You don't look great. No offense," he adds.

"My throat is just a little sore. I'm fine."

"What other symptoms?" Jake asks. "Walker and I can pick you up some medicine from the hotel lobby."

I grin. "Walker wants to come?"

Jake has him tucked in one muscular arm. He goes to the crib and picks up Walker's dino lovie and pacifier. "He's ready to travel. See?"

"He's going to get cold. He needs clothes."

"Say no more," Jake says. "I'll get him dressed, and then we'll go get you some meds."

I lay my head back. The world is spinning. I'm exhausted, sleepy, achy, and feeling so grateful that Jake happened to be here today. "Okay. His suit for today is on the top of my suitcase. And thank you."

"Got it," Jake says.

"Just… don't look at my underwear. I wasn't exactly thinking of packing sexy ones when I put my suitcase together," I add.

He grins. "I've seen most of it before."

I throw an arm over my eyes, groaning. "I feel like I got hit by a truck."

I hear the suitcase zipper, and then Jake lays Walker on the bed. He lifts up a onesie with little trains and train tracks on it. After what feels like a small eternity, I still hear Jake trying to get Walker dressed.

"Having trouble?" I ask.

"Nope," Jake says. He lifts Walker up, and I see he's got Walker's legs through the head hole and his head through the leg holes of the onesie. "Okay. Maybe a little trouble. But nothing we can't figure out."

"We, huh?" I ask. "Is the living pooping and peeing machine going to give you some pointers?"

"Don't underestimate him. We've become quite the team."

"Is that right?" I ask. I'm grinning, but the humor and warmth this exchange would normally bring me feels far off and distant. I half-heartedly try to think back on where I could have caught whatever this is. The jewelers? In the rush of people after we got out of the car? On the private plane? The list of places I've been in the last twenty-four hours is almost comical.

"That's right. I'm team captain, though," he says seriously, pointing a finger at Walker. "I'm done arguing about that."

I smile sleepily, letting my eyes close.

I feel Jake's hand on my shoulder. "Sit tight. We'll get you something to make you feel better. Are you hungry?"

"No," I say.

"Too bad. You're going to try to eat something. Your future husband demands it."

I open my eyes to give him a cross look, but he's already leaving. Walker's onesie is inside out now, but I guess it's better than how it was before.

My feverish dreams are full of weird, very not-sane scenarios of Jake carrying me over the threshold of my bed and breakfast–of him building a playset in the backyard for Walker to use with his cousins, Amelia and Jude. There's also a part where he rides me like a jet-ski, life vest and all, but we don't need to talk about that part…

In my fevered haze, it almost feels like this is all real–like I've drifted into an alternate reality where I told Jake the truth about Walker after the pregnancy. In that reality, he dropped everything and decided to care for us both. We're his people, and he's our rock.

I blink, groan, and shove a pillow over my face.

That's not reality, sick Caroline. The reality is you're both just using each other for your mutual benefit. He doesn't know Walker's his son. And you both still have to figure out how the hell you're going to stage a fake wedding and convince your friends.