Dayton stared out the window of his office and sighed. He was miserable. He had this cold he couldn't get rid of and it was affecting his work.
He didn't usually come in when he felt like this but his boss wanted the Vanderbilt case whether it killed them or not. He wasn't taking no for an answer and Dayton had to come in or risk getting reprimanded and his father called. He swore his boss was just an overgrown child, what with the way he treated him as if he would be spanked if he said one wrong word.
Sighing tiredly, he turned and slumped in his chair. What good was having a plush high-rise office if you couldn't enjoy it because you felt miserable? It wasn't a good feeling in the least bit, especially since it took three months to decorate it.
His mind wandered as he stared at the snow globe that had the Manhattan skyline. Tophyr had given it to him when she noticed his snow globe collection. The woman was insane with her art so when she had made her first killing in the recent art show she had bought everyone a gift. He wasn't interested in all the crap her siblings wanted so she had bought him something simple. His sister-in-law was a compassionate woman who had a big heart.
With the thoughts of his brother's wife in mind, he reached over and pulled the phone from the cradle. "Hello?" he muttered.
"Brother, you don't sound good," his brother's tenor resounded over the phone.
"Hey, Der. What's up?"
"I'm calling about Tophyr's doctor's appointment."
This was something that had been weighing on his brother's mind. Tophyr had gone to the doctor a week before and had been rescheduled to come back because they wanted to run more tests. Derek had been running himself ragged making sure everything was set so she could go to the doctor and not worry about her shop. He had told his brother to call him once he found out what was wrong with his sister-in-law.
"Well, don't leave me hanging. What's going on?" Derek took a moment, obviously withholding the information on purpose.
"Derek!"
His brother laughed. "Get ready for a niece or nephew."
Dayton took time to let that sink in before a smile erupted on his face. "You're pregnant?"
He could visualize his brother's goofy smile on the other end as he nodded to someone he couldn't see. "Yeah, we are."
"When's it due?"
"February."
"That's only six months away."
"I know. It means we have a lot to do between now and then. Tophyr's excited, as are her parents. They're ready for another baby in the family since all their kids are grown and out of the house. Well, all except Percy. We figure he'll live there until hell freezes over and we're all ice skating on it."
"That sounds like Tophyr's twin. Do you know what it is?"
"No. Tophyr doesn't want to know until it's born. She's weird like that."
"She's your wife."
"Yes, and I love her. Don't misunderstand that."
"Oh, trust me. I won't."
He could feel Derek's smile on the other end. "All right. I just thought I'd let you know. Take care of yourself, Day. We don't need you sick."
"I will. Can I have Izzy's number?"
There was a quiet moment on the line. He could imagine his brother's frown. "Day, I don't think that's a good idea."
"I just want her to make me some soup. After I finish up here, I'm going home and crashing. I don't want to think about work but I'll be too tired to fix anything. She's the best cook I know."
Derek was obviously chewing on his bottom lip like he always did when he was worried about something. After a moment he sighed. "All right. I'll warn her you're going to call first."
"That sounds fair."
"Get some rest, Day."
"I will, Der. Bye."
"Bye." He let the phone fall back into its cradle then stared at it. This was so not his day. Finally his picked the phone up and pressed a button. "Claire, will you do me a big favor?"
"Sure," the bubbly secretary outside his door crooned at him. She had always been interested in him but he had rebuffed her enough with his actions.
"Can you cancel my appointments tomorrow? I won't be coming in due to a cold. I'll work this weekend to make them up."
"Is that something you can afford to do?"
"They don't pay you to ask questions. Just please call all my clients and cancel for me. I won't be able to think with this headache."
She stalled for a few moments as if she were afraid to do as he asked. "Okay, sir. I will."
He sighed when she hung up. That was one woman he did not want to get tangled up with at all. He heard his phone before he felt it. Pulling it out from his pocket, he looked at the I.D. It was a number he didn't recognize.
"Derek says you're sick and want soup? What kind?" It was from Izzy. Damn his brother for getting the word out faster than he could.
He answered immediately. "I am and I want chicken noodle if it's not too much trouble."
The reply was instantaneous, making him turn from putting on his suit jacket. "You're always trouble but you asked nicely so I'll bring it to you in an hour."
"I'll meet you at the door."
"Okay."
He sighed happily and walked out of his office
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There was a knock on his door an hour later. He had made it home faster than he assumed he would so he had had time to change into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He had nearly been asleep when the pounding came.
He nearly tripped over his couch as he stumbled to the door. Opening it wide, he saw Izzy on the other side. Her long hair was swept into a messy bun at the top of her head and glinted burnt copper in the dull light. Her hazel eyes surveyed him from head to toe, obviously making sure he was actually sick.
"Am I able to come in?" she asked after a few long moments.
He shook his head to clear it. "Yeah, sorry. The kitchen's that way."
She strode in and took over, her presence palpable in the small flat. She set the pot on the counter and went to the cabinet beside the oven to pull two bowls out. She found the ladle in the cutlery drawer and began to dish out the soup. She pulled two bottles of water out of the fridge and went around the counter to the living room.
Dayton had flopped out on the couch with an afghan tossed over him. He looked beat as he stared at the blank television on the other side of the room. His cheeks were
flushed with fever that he was desperately trying to get down with aspirin and water. If it were any colder in the room, she could see his breath.
"If you want your fever to go down, you need ibuprofen instead of aspirin. It works faster and lasts longer," she said as she set the bowl of soup down in front of him. He looked up at her with fevered eyes. "My mom used to tell me that when I was sick."
"Did it work?" he asked in a raspy voice.
"It did for me." They stared at each other for a few moments. It was a heated stare, one filled with longing and some sort of promise. She shook it off and returned her attention to the soup she had brought. "You asked for it so I brought it. Now eat."
He took the warm bowl from her and tasted the broth, humming as the flavor hit his tongue and exploded. "This is good. Why don't you have a culinary arts degree?"
She shrugged as she sank down into the chair across from him, content to eat with him. She also wanted to make sure he ate because men tended to forget to do that when they were sick. He ate it greedily. She smiled as he emptied the bowl.
"I never thought of getting one. Writing was always my passion so I pursued it," she replied after some moments. "I love to cook but I'd rather write."
"Why not do both? You could open your own restaurant then write a blog about food as well. Chefs are always wanted."
"I'm just not into it."
Dayton lifted his head and looked at her. She was staring at him as if she was trying to figure him out. It would work. He wasn't that much of a snob as his parents projected. He did have morals, unlike his father. He would rather get to know what was going on rather than make an ignorant decision.
"Do you remember that night ten years ago?" he asked suddenly. Her eyes snapped up to meet his. "Obviously you do."
"Why do you bring that up?" she asked.
"Because I remember a chestnut haired woman standing on the stage at the bar reading something she felt from her heart. It was quiet, reformed and personal and you were putting it out there for the entire city or world to hear. That took guts. More guts than I had to stand up to my father when he said I had to date Caroline Rochester and look where that got me."
"I didn't do it to get attention. I did it because it felt right."
"Is that what writing is about for you?"
"I told you. It's a passion and one I've had ever since I can remember. I used to
write little plays and coerce my brother into performing them with me. We'd hang up sheets as curtains and my dad would slide them across when it was time for them to go up. It was one of the fond memories I have of my childhood when my parents weren't fighting."
Dayton watched the emotions flash across her face. Obviously this was a sore subject for her yet she was talking about it. It took guts to do that and this woman had that. He was mesmerized by her. Had been ten years ago when she stood before him and spoke those words. The emotions in her voice then and now were the same and they flooded over him like a wave in the ocean.
She finally looked at him. A small smile graced her lips as she gently took the bowl from his hands and set it on the table. She pushed him back gently and pulled the afghan up around his shoulders.
"Relax. Men tend to mumble when they're sick. I'll clean up," she said quietly.
He did as she said. Soon he heard her in his kitchen cleaning up. He didn't know what to think about that. Ever since he could remember he had had someone doing everything for him. So when he told his parents he was getting his own place out of college, they didn't like it. They wanted to keep him under wraps. And they did by telling him that if he wanted to marry Caroline, which he wasn't certain if he wanted, he had to live under their thumb.
When Caroline came out as just wanting his money, he had put his foot down after breaking off his engagement. He got a job as a paralegal/lawyer at Tophyr's father's firm and moved to Brooklyn. He finally had time to decide what the hell he was going to do with his life. He liked his job and his house and he liked doing things on his own. So having someone else do stuff for him even when he was sick was something new.
When he awoke he was alone in his house. Izzy was gone but she had left the pot and a note.
"Finish this. It will only last for two more days. If you need anything else, call me. Izzy."
He smiled at it then moved the soup into the fridge. Turning off the lights he walked into his bedroom and collapsed in his bed for a good night's sleep.