Christmas Eve at Friday Harbor (Friday Harbor #1)(28)

“Don’t let her stay up late,” Mark had said sternly. “Don’t let her eat crap. Don’t miss her next dose of ibuprofen, or—”

“Yeah, I know. Everything’s fine.”

“If Holly’s still sick tomorrow, the pediatrician’s office is open until noon on Saturdays—”

“I know. I know all the stuff you know. If you don’t leave now, you’re gonna miss your flight.”

Mark had left reluctantly after dosing Holly with ibuprofen. He had left her resting on the sofa, watching a movie. She looked small and fragile, her cheeks colorless. It bothered him to leave her, even though Sam had assured him everything would be all right. “I’ll have my cell phone with me,” he had told her. “If you want to talk to me, if you need me, you call whenever you want. Okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay.” And Holly had given him the toothy little grin that never failed to melt his heart. Leaning over her, he kissed her forehead, and they rubbed noses.

It felt wrong to walk out of the house and go to the airport. Every instinct prompted him to stay. But Mark knew how much the weekend meant to Shelby, and he had no desire to hurt or embarrass her by not showing up to a family event.

In Seattle, Shelby picked him up at the airport in her sleek BMW Z4. She wore a sexy black dress and high-heeled pumps, her blond hair styled loose and straight. A beautiful, classy woman. Any guy would be lucky to have her, he thought. He liked Shelby. He admired her. He enjoyed her company. But the lack of turbulence and intensity between them, which had always seemed so right before, had begun to seem vaguely wrong.

“We’re meeting Bill and Allison for dinner before the party,” Shelby said. Allison had been her best friend since college, and was now the mother of three children.

“Great.” Mark hoped he would be able to get his mind off Holly long enough to enjoy dinner. Pulling out his phone, he checked to see if there were any messages from Sam.

Nothing.

Noticing his frown, Shelby asked, “How’s Holly? Still under the weather?”

Mark nodded. “She’s never been sick before. At least, not since she’s been with me. She had a fever when I left.”

“She’ll be fine,” came Shelby’s soothing reply. A smile curved her lightly glossed lips. “I think you’re sweet to be so concerned about her.”

They went to a casually sophisticated restaurant in downtown Seattle, the main room dominated by a twenty-foot central tower of wine bottles. They ordered an excellent pinot noir for the table, and Mark drained his glass quickly, hoping it would help him to relax.

It had begun to rain outside, water glittering on the windows. The rain was slow but steady, the clouds piled like unfolded laundry. Buildings crouched patiently beneath the elements, letting the storm water run through paved cascades and across vegetated swales, and into roadside rain gardens. Seattle was a city that knew what to do with water.

As Mark watched the oblique patterns of rivulets sliding along building exteriors of stone and glass, he couldn’t help thinking of the rainy night, less than a year ago, that had changed everything. He realized that before Holly, he had measured out his emotions as if they were some finite substance. Now there was no hope of stopping or containing them. Was parenting ever going to get easier? Did you ever reach a point where you could stop worrying?

“This is a new side of you,” Shelby said with a quizzical smile as she saw Mark checking his phone for the twentieth time during dinner. “Sweetie, if Sam hasn’t called, that means everything’s okay.”

“It could mean something’s wrong and he hasn’t had a chance to call,” Mark said.

Allison and Bill, the other couple, exchanged the smiling, slightly superior glances of experienced parents. “It’s hardest with the first one,” Allison said. “You’re scared every time they get a fever…by the time you have the second or third, you stop worrying so much.”

“Kids are pretty resilient,” Bill added.

Knowing that all of this was intended to ease Mark’s worry didn’t help one bit.

“He’ll be a good father someday,” Shelby told Allison in a smiling aside.

The praise, which probably should have pleased Mark, elicited a flare of irritation. Someday? He was a father now. There was more to being a parent than a biological contribution…in fact, that was the least part of it.

“I need to leave for just a minute to call Sam,” he told Shelby. “I just want to find out if the fever’s gone.”

“Okay, if it will help you to stop worrying,” Shelby said. “Then we can enjoy the rest of the evening.” She gave him a meaningful glance. “Right?”

“Right.” Mark leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Excuse me.” He stood from the table, went to the restaurant lobby, and pulled out his cell phone. He knew that Shelby and the other couple thought he was overreacting, but he didn’t give a damn. He needed to know that Holly was okay.

The call was picked up. He heard his brother’s voice. “Mark?”

“Yeah. How is she?”

A nerve-wracking pause followed. “Not great, actually.”

Mark felt his blood turn to ice water. “What do you mean, ‘Not great’?”

“She started throwing up not long after you left. She’s been puking her guts out. I never would’ve believed one little body could produce so much evil stuff.”