Shades of Mr. Faulkerson(COMPLETED)

SOF: Chapter 68

TWO WEEKS LATER........

My health condition is a permanent roller coaster ride. One day I feel good and happy but only the next day I am lying coughing in the bed with a hot cup of tea.

It's her fault. She's the reason for this over reaction which my body has. The stress she's putting me- and Richard-under is really getting under my skin.

He doesn't noticed it. Or at least, he doesn't seem to notice it.

It's getting colder and colder in Manhattan. Christmas is approaching and I have absolutely no idea what I should give a man who already has everything. Including me.

He, on the other side, has lots of options. Options he is aware very well.

The snow flakes are clashing against the huge glass front in the music room as I sit at the piano, composing once more. That's all I've been doing for the past two weeks. Composing.

I brush my hair as I feel my body temperature rising again. Gosh, not again! I'm sick of being sick. Sick of vomiting. Of the headache. Of the fever. Of everything.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. No not again. Not today. Not.....Now.

I get up from the music stool and lean my hot forehead against the cold glass window. That's better.

Why is she getting so close to me? How can the stress she puts me under effect me so much?!

I wasn't so stressed when husband no. 2 and Thomas raped me. And I will never ever be able to forget that night- as hard as I may try.

But she.....She is pushing stress to a whole new level. A level which scares me, since my body seems to react to it very badly.

Richard feels the stress as well. We've been fighting over nothing lately. Yell as strong as possible at each other- only to end up having the best make-up sex ever.

It's snowing like crazy in Manhattan. I hope he's getting through the traffic just fine. But then again, he's not some worker. He's a CEO. He's Richard Faulkerson. My Richard Faulkerson.

"What are you doing?" I hear his soft voice filing the room.

Only seconds later I feel his hands around my hips. His wonderful hands...

"I was just thinking...." I trail off, my forehead still pressed against the window. It feels like a thousand degrees in here. "How's work?"

"Why aren't you looking at me?" he ask me, releasing his hands from my hips.

I lift my forehead off to the cold window and look into his eyes. "You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine." he fights back. "What's wrong?"

I sigh, "I think I'm getting sick. a week before Christmas and I'm getting sick. I have a fever."

His eyes are filled with worry as he touches my-already hot again-forehead. "You're glowing, Maine."

I close my eyes as I feel his cold hand on my forehead. It feel so good. "I know."

"How long have you been having a fever?" he asks me worried as he takes my hand.

"Just please don't call a doctor. I'm not that sick. It's going to be fine in the morning." I explain to him as we slowly walk out of the room.

"You didn't answer my question." he notices dryly as we walk into the bedroom. "How long, Nicomaine?"

I shrugg.

He shoot a look at me. Is he mad?

I sigh again as I climb back into the bed.

"How long?" he ask again as I let my head fall on the pillow.

"Two weeks." I say briefly.

"What?!" he asks me shocked. "And you....You didn't feel the need to...you didn't tell me?!"

"See? That's exactly why I didn't want to tell you." I answer him as he sits down next to me.

"You been working like crazy the last couple of weeks. You come home always feeling tired and late. I didn't want to worry you by....Telling you I might be getting sick."

"You are sick, Maine. There's no possibility you are not sick."

I shrugg. "Okay fine. But don't call-"

"I'm giving you one more night without a doctor. I will observe you."

"Oh please don't!" I say with a puppy eyes. "You....You should have some hours of sleep as well."

"I have the next four weeks to sleep."

I stare at him with confusion before it hits me. "You actually have some time off? As in... Work-less time?"

He grins, "Yes. I do have vacation as well."

"I didn't expect that from a workaholic." I joke smiling.

"You are a workaholic as well, Maine." he reminds me.

"I didn't work for four months."

"You were in a coma, so that's no argument. I know you. Or at least, by now I know you. Now get some sleep." he says fondling my cheek before he kisses my hot forehead.