The test results confirm what I already knew: Blake and I both have Covid. And while I seem to be completely asymptomatic, his health has steadily declined over the past few days.

His fever hasn't abated, and his cough is so bad at night, he's had an inhaler prescribed to help with his breathing.

It's been a week since he initially came down with the virus, and while he's been in bed, I've spent my time making sure he eats and drinks. If he's feeling up to it, I coax him to shower.

When I'm not cooking or disinfecting the house, I'm writing. During a moment of wakefulness, he apologizes for inconveniencing me, but I assure him I'm fine. Then he asks how I'm passing the time, and I tell him. That's when he asked me to tell him about my book.

At first, I'm freaking out. Writing is so personal. It's one thing to post on Wattpad. I sort of know my readers through the comments, and a lot of them are writers too. But to put myself out there with someone in real life? It's terrifying. What if he thinks my book is stupid or my writing is bad? I'm not sure I have the courage to face his opinion.

But then he looks at me, his exhausted eyes pleading, and his weak hand reaching for mine. "If this is your passion, I want to be supportive."

Aww.

So I give in and read out loud, sharing what I've never been able to with anyone, excluding Val. And as I read, Blake keeps his heavy eyes directed at me until he can no longer keep them open. His lips creep into a smile as his breathing deepens, and I plant a kiss on his hot forehead.

He mumbles something before curling into a ball on his side, hugging one of the spare pillows. Even though he's sick and smelly from sweat, he's so peaceful. I can't help but think he's adorable.

Picking up my laptop, I tiptoe to the living room so I can write uninterrupted. I've taken notes on the things Blake asked about in my manuscript, but I'm really not in an editing mood. Instead, I open up Wattpad and scroll through dozens of missed notifications. Apparently, it's been awhile since I've updated my fanfiction, and my readers have grown restless. A few strangers have randomly asked me to check out their work, a couple of scammers have DM'd me to dazzle me with their offers of making money as a writer, and my more loyal followers have pleaded for an update. Then there are those who have posted on my wall, asking if anyone knows what happened to me.

Oops.

I respond to as many notifications as I can and mute the spam accounts. Then I post a short announcement to let people know I'm alive before getting to work on a new chapter.

I'm almost two thousand words into my chapter when the doorbell rings. I look up with a frown. I didn't order anything, and Blake has been too sick to use his phone. From what he's told me, everyone he knows is aware he has the virus and to keep away. Perhaps it's a random solicitor?

Closing my laptop, I go to the front door and peek through the peephole. A young woman is standing outside, rocking from side to side. In her hands is a bouquet of flowers and a food container. Her dark hair is pulled in a ponytail, and her face is flawless enough for her to model in an advert. Then I roll my eyes when I remember her picture to accompany her phone call earlier this week. It's Audrey.

What is she doing here?

I back away, careful not to make any noise. I don't know how thin these walls are, and I don't want my footsteps to echo.

She rings the bell again, this time banging on the door after the chime. "Blake, open up, it's Audrey!"

My lip curls in disgust. Who does she think she is? Blake broke up with her, she has no right to drop in, uninvited. Even more, if Ajay told her that Blake is sick, what the hell is she doing here?

When the bell rings for the third time, Audrey becomes impatient, pressing the button repeatedly until I have to clamp my hands over my ears. It's still going a minute later when Blake comes out of the room, rubbing his eyes. "What's going on?" he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep. "Who's at the door?"

I cast an irritated glance toward the door before facing him. "It's Audrey," I whisper, disgust dripping venomously with each word.

A puzzled expression crosses Blake's features, and he blinks. "Huh? What's she doing here?"

"You tell me," I scoff, lifting my eyebrow and jerking my head at the door.

He wobbles across the room, leaning heavily against the wall as he slides the chain lock into place. It's not until he opens the door a crack that I think of two things. First, I scamper out of view because I'm a coward. Polished people intimidate me, especially women. The second thought that strikes is I should have told Blake to put some clothes on. He's wearing only navy blue boxer briefs, and it does little to cover that tent.

"What?"

His irritated grumble takes me by surprise. It's a bit frightening, seeing his shoulders coil, like a panther ready to pounce.

"Is this how you say hello to your girl?"

If Blake could breathe fire, it would be flooding the room. His body heaves and his fingers tighten against the wood, curling into a pterodactyl claw.

But I'm also miffed because of her audacity. Even if Blake didn't have a girlfriend, who in their right mind thinks it's okay to cheat, toss you out to the wolves, and saunter back to someone's doorstep as if nothing happened? That's a crappy thing to do to someone, to play with their emotions and dust them off from the shelf when it suits them.

"You are not my girl, my girlfriend, or my friend," he snarled, followed by a cough. Clearing his throat, he continued. You are a selfish bitch who slept around."

I cover my mouth before I can gasp. I'm not one to judge someone for swearing, and Audrey did a really crappy thing, but Daddy raised me to never call another woman a bitch. Then again, I suppose I should be happy he didn't drop the "C" word. Then he really would be in trouble, no matter how much this woman might deserve it.

Audrey doesn't seem fazed though. Her honeyed simper drifts inside, grating on my nerves. "Blake, please. You're not feeling well. Let me take care of you."

I can imagine her flipping her hair and trying to win him over, but Blake isn't biting as a growl rumbles in his chest. "You need to leave. This virus isn't some common cold. People are dying, and you're recklessly putting yourself and others in danger by being here."

"I can quarantine with you," she pleaded. "Ajay said it was pretty bad, and what if you need my help?"

"I said no!" Another coughing fit came on, and Blake coughed until he was hunched over his knees, gasping for air. Between breaths, he wheezed, "Get the fuck off my porch before I call the police. This is your last warning."

I hear her scoff on the other side. "Fine, but you'll regret this."

I repress a snort. Could she be any more cliché? 'Oh, boohoo, you won't take me back so I'm gonna get even,' I think to myself as I roll my eyes. What a brat.

Blake pushes the door shut and locks the bolt. Now that we're alone, his anger dissipates and he casts me a weak smile. "Sorry," he murmurs. "Audrey really doesn't take no for an answer."

I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his waist, lifting myself on my toes so I can kiss him. His fever has finally broken, but I can feel the virus rattling inside his chest when he breathes. He is also shaking, struggling to stay on his feet as he leans heavily against me.

"Alright, my Bad Boy Doctor. Let's get you to bed. We can worry about her later. I need you to be healthy for all the sex we're going to have once you're better."

He chuckles as we slowly walk across the room. He wobbles a bit, but manages to keep himself upright. "Do you have any idea how amazing you are?"

Not really, but I love hearing him say it. He makes me feel desirable and appreciated. I hum in response, unwilling to correct him. I'm not amazing, but I do my best to be a good and caring person.

Not letting me off so easily, he continues. "You truly are, Kelly. Don't ever let anyone else tell uni otherwise. You have a great capacity to love, and you're fun to be with. I also can't wait to tell the world I'm with a published author."

Heat scorches my face, and I bristle at the compliment. "Oh, I don't know about that. It's so hard to get your manuscript picked up."

He stops, turning so he can cup my face in both of his hands. His cerulean eyes are intense, despite the exhaustion behind them. Then he brushes his lips against mine, dragon breath and all before replying with, "I've been listening to you read for three days. Your narrative voice is strong and your character feels real. As long as you keep trying, you'll find an agent who loves your work as much as I do. Then I'll be the first in line to buy your book and have it signed."

Tears sting my eyes, and my throat tightens. He's so candid, and I'm overwhelmed by the affection and gratitude I feel for him. Besides Dad and Val, no one has ever shown this much support. Kids at school always said how stupid my stories were before snatching them and tearing them up. But Blake is nothing like them as he assures me that I will succeed.

He's so feeble right now, but I can't help myself; I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. Then I mumble into his neck, "Thank you."

Even though Coronavirus has made this year one of the worst on record, Blake's kind words make me the happiest woman in the world.