Buffy Andrews - The Perfect Husband - A nail biting gripping psychological thriller

‘That’s what I was calling about.’

‘Shelly, what’s wrong. You don’t sound like your normal cheerful self.’

‘I’m not. I’m sick. Sorry, but I won’t be able to make it down tomorrow.’

‘You have nothing to be sorry about. Of course I’m disappointed I won’t get to see you, but I totally understand. Is there anything I can do for you?’

‘No, but thanks anyway. I think the best thing for me is rest.’

We hung up and I grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and crawled into bed. Izzy snuggled beside me.

‘I don’t know, Izzy. I haven’t felt this lousy in forever.’

In fact, the last time I felt this sick I was married to Scott. That’s when I learned how seriously he took his vow to love me in sickness and in health. He was as caring as the stink bug I’d found crawling in my car earlier in the day. But when Scott was sick, he reverted to his childlike self. He was the world’s biggest baby and expected me to be at his beck and call.

I managed to get through the night only throwing up once. In the morning, I felt like I’d been to a war zone. My gut hurt. My head hurt. My back hurt. I thought about eating a banana but just thinking about it made me nauseous. Instead, I filled up my water bottle. I knew it was important to keep hydrated.

I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. God, Shelly. You look awful . Gray bags draped under my eyes. My hair was a tangled mess. About all I could manage to do was brush my teeth. The rest would have to wait.

A few hours later, I was awakened by my ringing cell phone. It was Eric. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, but I didn’t want to be rude. I figured he was calling to check up on me. ‘Hello.’

‘Shelly?’

‘Yeah,’ I croaked.

‘Can you come to the door?’

‘What?’

‘Can you come to the door?’

‘My apartment door?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why?’

‘I left something outside your door. I didn’t want to get too close and get sick. Call me back so I know you got it.’

What the…? I crawled out of bed, stumbled to the front door and looked through the peephole. No one was there. I cracked the door a few inches and peeked out. I didn’t see anyone. Then I looked down and saw a huge pink bag with ‘Get Well’ written on the front.

I picked up the bag and carried it to the kitchen table. I pulled out a large plastic container labeled chicken soup. Then a box of crackers, a bunch of bananas and a jar of apple sauce. There was also a brown, fluffy teddy bear and a note.

Shelly,

I can’t get you out of my mind. I wish I were the one who was sick and not you. I hope you enjoy the chicken soup I made. If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know. When you cuddle the bear, I hope you think of me.

Love, Eric

I couldn’t wait to call Eric. ‘Thank you so much. I can’t believe you made me soup and drove all this way to deliver it.’

‘No distance could keep me from you.’

‘Are you for real?’

Eric cleared his throat. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s just that no man has ever talked to me the way you talk to me.’

‘Is that a bad thing?’

‘No, it’s just different.’

‘Different good or different bad?’

‘Different good.’

‘That’s a relief,’ Eric said. ‘Look, Shell, I don’t want to scare you. And if being nice to you is scaring you, then I’ll try to turn it down a notch or two. But it’s hard because I really care about you and I want to make you happy.’

I took a deep breath. ‘You are making me happy. I’m just not used to it I guess.’

‘Look, I can’t change your past and how you were treated, but I can change your future if you’ll let me. You’re everything I’ve been looking for in a woman and more. You should go back to bed and get some rest. Can I have a raincheck for next weekend?’

‘You can count on it.’

I put the soup in the refrigerator and went back to bed. I texted Jackie.

Eric made me soup and dropped it off.

Jackie texted back. He drove all that way?

Yes.

Jackie sent a smiley face. No one has ever made me soup .

Me neither.

Sounds like a keeper.

I know. Pinch! Pinch! Pinch!

It’s real girl. Enjoy it!

I spent most of the day in bed. When I finally got up it was dinnertime, so I made a bowl of Eric’s chicken soup. It was delicious. Big chunks of meat, fat slippery noodles and broth seasoned just right. It tasted as good as the soup my grandma used to make.

I took a photo of the bowl and texted it to him. Delish! Thanks again!

He responded in what felt like nanoseconds. Feeling better?

A little.

Good. Keep pushing the water.

OK. Later.

You can count on it, he texted.

I showered and crawled back into bed. Izzy curled up next to me. She hadn’t left my side all day. Normally, she rotates to different spots around the apartment, but when I’m sick or upset, she stays by me. I reached down to pet her and she purred. I turned on the TV, thinking maybe I’d watch a movie. The last thing I remember is the hero carrying the girl out of a factory. She’d found her white knight. Had I?

Chapter 7

The coming days brought more flowers, more texts and more phone calls. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this happy. I was back to feeling human again and busy at work. I wasn’t going to complain, however. The housing market had been in a slump and I was enjoying the rebound. My bank account was, too.

I checked the time. It was already after six and I had to meet Jackie at Tony’s. Maybe I should just cancel. But that’d be the second Thursday night in a row, and I couldn’t do that to my best friend.

I picked up the files on my desk and stuffed them into my tote. I texted Jackie to tell her I was on my way. Twenty minutes later, I found her at our usual seats at the bar with her face in her phone.

Jackie sipped her drink. ‘Hey you!’

‘Sorry.’ I was out of breath from rushing. ‘I have buyers coming from out of town tomorrow, and I had to set some things up.’

‘Are you excited about this weekend?’

‘Totally! I can’t wait! But I won’t get there until Saturday afternoon. I have a hair appointment in the morning with Andre and I didn’t want to cancel it. You know how difficult it is getting an appointment with him, especially a Saturday appointment.’

Jackie scanned my head. ‘Your hair always looks gorgeous.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Are you doing anything different?’

‘No. Just getting it trimmed.’ I held out my hand and looked at my nails. ‘I could really use a manicure, too.’

Jackie swung out her legs so I could see her sandal-clad feet. ‘I just had a pedicure.’

I looked down at her toes peeking out of her sandals. ‘Oh! I love the magenta.’

She lowered her legs. ‘Me, too. I couldn’t decide between the cobalt blue, the chartreuse and this. I figured I’d start with this color and try the other two later.’

The bartender came over to take my order.

‘I’m in the mood for something different. How about an orange crush?’

‘Speaking of crush…’ Jackie winked. ‘How’s Eric?’

I laughed. ‘Great. It’s so weird how we can talk for hours and never run out of things to say.’

‘When am I going to meet him?’ Jackie asked.

‘We’ll see how this weekend goes.’

The bartender returned and slid my orange crush in front of me. I took a sip. ‘I like it.’ I turned to Jackie. ‘Want a taste?’

She took a sip. ‘Not bad. So, did you get the invite for our high school class reunion?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s that time again?’