Chapter 95

Reaching for the door knob he hesitated. All he wanted to do was fall across the bed and not worry about anything until tomorrow. But he knew once he opened the door that wouldn’t be an option and he hated himself for even thinking it. He loved Cilla and wanted to take care of her. So why was he having such a hard time making himself open the door tonight?

Turning the handle he sighed. He’d had too much time to think while cooling his heels in the damned airport and then again as they’d circled LaGuardia for nearly an hour. God he needed to stop borrowing trouble. He had more than enough on his plate without letting the fear of what if and what might be get to him too.

Shaking off the damning thoughts, he pushed open the door was greeted by the low moans coming from the bathroom. Dropping his bag and jacket he crossed to the ensuite quickly. Poor baby was his first thought.

Cilla reached up and flushed when she heard the click of his boots on the tile. “Hey” she murmured before heaving over the bowl again.

Jon grabbed a washcloth and ran it under cool water. Turning back to her he mopped her forehead and cheeks. She was as pale as the porcelain she was hunched over. “Where’s Sid?” He had asked Sid to stay with her today. Instead of finding the two of them, she was here, alone.

“Don’t be mad at him. I sent him home. I didn’t want him seeing me like this.” She groaned and leaned over the bowl again.

Damn stubborn woman. “Well, it looks like I got here just in time for the show.”

Cilla wiped her mouth. “It’s a repeat performance of last week.”

Jon risked a glance into the bowl, “I don’t know; costumes look different to me.”

Cilla closed her eyes and chuckled. “That was awful.”

He took the washcloth from her and rinsed it out. “Yeah, but it made you laugh.” He handed her the cloth again. “Feeling better?”

She shook her head and heaved into the bowl again, “no, not really.”

Sitting behind her Jon gathered her hair back from her face and braided it down her back. The pills she took everyday were supposed to counteract the side effects, weren’t they? He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if she wasn’t taking anything.

After an eternity of dry heaves, she flushed one last time, wiped her face and curled herself into him. If this was the cure for what ailed her, maybe she’d be better off dead.

Jon wrapped his arm around her and stroked her back. When the cold started to seep through the seat of his jeans he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Let’s get you into bed baby.”

Scooping her up he started to head to the door then stopped and settled her on the vanity next to the sink. Grabbing her toothbrush he squeezed some toothpaste onto it and handed it to her. “Brush.”

With a limp hand she took the brush from him. “I could have done that myself.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Just brush.” He didn’t want to argue with her. He just wanted to get her comfortable and try to enjoy what was left of the evening.

Once he had her settled in the wide bed he stripped out of his clothes, pulled on his favorite worn sweats and lay down next to her. “Do you think you could eat something? Some soup maybe?” He could more than handle opening a can of soup and a pack of crackers. He wasn’t as inept in the kitchen as he made people think.

Cilla slid closer and laid her head on his shoulder. “Maybe in a little bit. I met someone today Jonny.”

“Really? Who?” He couldn’t imagine who she could have met while she was getting her chemo.

Picking up Jon’s hand she laced their fingers together. “The most amazing little girl. Her name is Abby. She has” Cilla paused, remembering Abby’s matter of fact statement of her cancer, “the kemia.”

Jon looked down at Cilla; in the low light she didn’t look nearly as pale. “The ‘kemia’?”

Cilla looked up, “yeah. She has leukemia and it doesn’t seem to phase her at all; although I’m not really sure she understands exactly what that is.”

“How old is she?”

Cilla rubbed the back of Jon’s hand with her thumb. “Five.” She felt him start at that.

Five? He pictured Romeo. He would soon be five. What would he do if it was his youngest? He didn’t even want to think about it. “Were her parents there with her?”

Cilla nodded. “Just her mom, Jennie. She seemed really nice too.”

They lay together talking quietly. “I’m going to bring Abby some cookies or something on Saturday I think. I have a princess mold I could use and then decorate them with sparkles and stuff.” She looked up at Jon. “What do you think?”

He squeezed her tight. “I bet she’d like that. Is she on the same schedule as you?”

“I think so. She said she’d be back on Saturday so I just assumed.” She looked up into his face again. “She asked me if you were my prince charming.”

Jon chuckled. “What? Prince charming?” He didn’t think of himself as the guy that would charge in on a white horse and save the day or kiss the beautiful princess and wake her up or anything, but one never knew just what went on inside the mysterious mind of a woman. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her of course you were.” Cilla was quiet for a minute. “She wondered why you weren’t there today.”

Jon frowned and all the guilt he had felt earlier came flooding back. “You know I would have been. I wanted to be. The weather just didn’t cooperate today. I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

Tipping her head up Cilla pressed her lips to his, shushing him. “I know and it’s okay. You’re here now and that’s enough Jonny.”

But it wasn’t, not to him. He should have been there earlier today for her. He would be from now on. He mentally ran through his calendar for the upcoming weeks. He’d see to it that all his Wednesdays and Saturdays were free and clear until she was through with her treatments. He was the boss, he could make it happen.

He would make it happen.