Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change?

Slipping on her socks, Gilbert seemed reluctant to let go. The chill that once emanated from Sherilyn's smooth feet on the ground had almost completely vanished.

His voice was chiding yet gentle as he spoke. "Just got over a fever, and here you are, walking barefoot on the floor. You know better, don't you?"

What? Sherilyn blinked in disbelief. Really? It was indoors. Outside, the snow was falling heavily, but inside, they had a 24-hour HVAC system, and the hardwood floor had a carpet. It wasn't cold. It was warm.

"There's more." Gilbert hadn't finished. "You're a lady. Remember that time your period cramps were so bad you ended up in the hospital? You have to be extra careful. Haven't you heard that catching a cold from your feet? You should take better care of yourself when I'm not around."

He cradled her feet in his hands, warming them. Suddenly, Sherilyn felt a rush of panic. What was he doing? Then she remembered what he said last night about forgetting Edgar and how he stayed up all night, fully clothed, checking on her. What was going on with him? Why was he acting like that? Was he worried she'd change her mind and not stay with him, letting down Caroline's request?

Yes, that must be it. Sherilyn couldn't think of any other reasonable explanation!

Realizing it, Sherilyn let go of her concerns. She withdrew her feet from his hands and said lazily, "Fine, I got it. Stop nagging."

Gilbert stood up, smoothing her somewhat messy hair. "Hungry?"

"Yeah." Sherilyn nodded, feeling her stomach growl.

"Great." Gilbert sighed in relief. "Knowing you're hungry means you're getting better." He seemed proud. "Lucky I brought you back." Her fever had broken overnight.

Gilbert suggested, "I'll have something for you to eat here in the room. Is that okay?"

"Not okay." Sherilyn frowned at the suggestion. "I don't like the room smelling like food."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow, noting her particular tastes. He bent down, lifting her in his arms. "Then I'll carry you downstairs. You haven't eaten in so long. Where would you get the strength to walk?"

Downstairs, the housekeeper had set the table.

Looking at the spread, Sherilyn pursed her lips, deciding to make an exception just this once and eat a bit more. Her little expressions didn't escape Gilbert's notice.

He served her a crab cake. "Eat up. Worry about your figure after you're better. You've missed several meals. Indulging just once won't make a difference."Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

"Okay." Sherilyn was convinced, picking up her fork.

Gilbert watched her with a smile, his phone ringing. It was Charles. He picked up, stepping aside to answer, "Yeah, it's me. Go ahead..." It was about work.

Sherilyn had just gotten over her

fever. Gilbert was worried and hadn't gone to the office, keeping in touch with Charles instead. Charles handled what he could. Anything else, he'd consult Gilbert. The call lasted quite a while.

By the time Sherilyn finished eating, Gilbert was still on the phone.

Sherilyn hesitated, then looked down at her socked feet. Gilbert had carried her downstairs, and she hadn't put on shoes.

Just then, her phone rang. "Hello? Rebecca?"

"Sherilyn." On the other end, Rebecca's voice sounded concerned. "Are you okay? Is he treating you well?"

Sherilyn reassured her, "Yeah, my fever's gone. I'm fine."

"That's good." Rebecca heaved a sigh of relief and sighed. "He looked worried sick. It was scary. But I think he's treating you well. There must've been some misunderstanding, huh? He flew across the city in a helicopter to take you to the hospital, and how bad can he be?"

Wait a minute!

While listening, Sherilyn's face gradually stiffened. "Rebecca, what... what did you say?"