Never Say Never by Rachael Sommers (books to get back into reading TXT) 📕

to do anything to help him. “When I woke up.”

“All right, sweetheart. I still want you to eat something for breakfast, okay? Even if it’s not a lot.”

She coaxed him out of bed and wrestled him out of his costume and into pajamas before she led him to the kitchen. He didn’t eat much cereal, but he drank the water she gave him. She was still fretting when Emily let herself into the apartment.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” she asked. Camila loved how well the girl knew her son, how she paid attention to him.

“Don’t feel good.” Camila led him to the couch, wrapped a blanket around him, and set up his favorite morning cartoons.

“I didn’t break him, did I?” Emily whispered, looming over Camila’s shoulder. “With the trick-or-treating? He’s not allergic to anything, is he?”

“No, nothing.” Camila chewed her bottom lip as she looked down at him. “I thought maybe it was the candy, but…it doesn’t seem like that.”

“I didn’t think I let him eat that much.” Emily frowned, furrowing her forehead. Camila reached out to rest her hand on Emily’s arm, trying to ignore the warmth of Emily’s skin. Being so close to her had her heart racing like a greyhound, in a way it hadn’t raced in years.

“It’s not your fault.” Camila squeezed her arm gently, and oh, those muscles were even better up close, and she had to move her hand away before she did something stupid. “I don’t think it’s the candy. I think it’s something else. A stomach bug, maybe.”

“It could be. Has he been sick?”

“Not yet.” Camila’s phone vibrated. She was about to be late for her first meeting that morning.

“What do you want me to do?” Emily, as always, said exactly the right thing. Camila hated to leave when Jaime was feeling bad, but she knew he was in capable hands.

“Just keep an eye on him. Keep checking his temperature and let me know if anything changes.”

“Okay. I’ll send you regular updates.”

“Thank you, Emily.” She kissed Jaime on the forehead, pausing in the doorway to look back. Emily was looking down at her son with care and concern, and it was enough to get her out the door. He would be safe with her.

Camila’s first meeting—a contract negotiation with the lead actor of her top-rated show who seemed reluctant to sign on for two more seasons—dragged, as did the budget meeting that followed. She resisted the urge to check her phone every five minutes, something that she usually shut down if she saw any of her employees doing it.

By the time she checked it, her heart nearly stopped when she saw that she had missed a text from Emily asking her to call.

She cleared everyone out of her office. Emily picked up after two rings.

“Is he all right?”

“He’s getting worse,” Emily replied, and Camila’s stomach twisted. “He’s thrown up a few times. I gave him fluids but he can’t keep them down. Do you want me to call someone?”

She gave Emily the number of Jaime’s pediatrician and listened impatiently to Emily’s half of the conversation.

Emily came back on the line. “He said it’s most likely a stomach bug, and all we can do is keep him hydrated and wait it out.”

It was good news that it wasn’t something more serious, but bad news that there was nothing they could really do for him.

“Call me back if he gets worse.”

“Of course.”

Camila struggled to focus on work after that, but Emily sent her regular texts. Jaime still wasn’t feeling better, but he wasn’t getting worse either.

As much as she wanted to get home to look after her baby, there was a fuck-up in production, and she was stuck in the office until nearly seven.

She called Emily as she logged off her computer and threw things into her bag, “I’m so sorry. I had to put out a few fires before I could leave.”

“It’s all right.” Emily sounded subdued, not her usual chipper self.

“Is everything okay?”

“Jaime’s fine. Well, not fine,” she said. “He’s still feeling pretty bad, but he’s keeping water down now, so I think he might be over the worst of it.”

“That’s good.” Camila was relieved to hear it. “But that’s not exactly what I asked. Is everything all right with you?”

“Um”—Emily paused—“not really. Jaime’s over the worst of it but I’m not.”

“You’re sick?”

“Kinda.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Camila said, marching toward the elevator.

“Because I knew you were busy and I didn’t want to bother you, and—oh God, I need to hang up now.”

“I’ll be home in ten minutes,” she promised, getting in her car.

She made it there in eight. She stabbed impatiently at the button for the penthouse as though she could make it move faster by sheer force of will.

“Emily?” She stepped into her apartment but saw no sign of either her or Jaime.

“In here.” Camila followed the sound of Emily’s voice.

Emily and Jaime were in the bathroom adjourning Jaime’s bedroom. Emily was slumped against the wall, looking paler than Camila had ever seen her, and Jaime was curled by her side, wrapped in blankets.

“Oh, Emily.”

Jaime looked up, though he didn’t move.

“Don’t come in,” Emily waved her arms. “You’ll get sick.”

“If I was going to catch it, I probably would have this morning.” Camila reasoned that while she may not have been around Jaime for as long, she had certainly been close to him. “And if I get sick, I get sick.” Camila shrugged. “Meanwhile, someone needs to look after both of you. You make a sorry sight.”

“We made a nest,” Jaime said weakly.

Camila chuckled. “You certainly did. How are you feeling, Jaime?”

“Better,” he replied, nodding.

“Good. Have you eaten?”

Emily groaned at the mention of food, but Jaime shook his head.

“Okay. I’m going to make you some soup. And you”—she pointed at Emily—“have you been drinking fluids?”

She shook her head.

“Emily,” Camila said, “you have to look after yourself as well as my son.”

“He’s more important.”

“You’re both important,” Camila insisted. She left to heat up a can of soup and poured it into two bowls,