Page 32 of A Simple Mistake

“You will do no such thing,” I state. “I’ve got it.”

She exhales and pins me with a look. “You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”

I can’t help but snort a laugh. “Pot…kettle.”

Mom huffs, but doesn’t argue, because she knows she doesn’t have a leg to stand on. I am stubborn and determined, just like her. I get it honestly. “Anyway, I can come over Sunday.”

“I’ll be fine by Sunday,” I declare. “I’m already feeling better. By Sunday, I’ll be back at it.”

“Well, the offer stands. If you want me to come help you clean, call me.”

I nod, appreciating the gesture, even if I have no plan to call her for help. “Thank you for the soup.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” she says. “I’ll leave you in peace. Holler if you need something.”

“Love you,” I tell her, standing up and walking her toward the back door.

“Love you too,” she replies, pulling me in for a warm, comforting hug. “Rest.”

I nod again and make sure the door is secured behind her. Then, I move to the washing machine and prepare to start a load. By the time I go to my bedroom, sort out a pile of towels, place them in the machine, and press the buttons, I’m out of breath and a little sore. My body definitely isn’t a fan of so much invading sickness. Usually, I can power through about anything, but this multi-infection invasion is really doing a number on my ability to do even the most trivial tasks.

I grab my phone to text Sommer. I need to let her know we’re not celebrating my thirtieth tomorrow.

Me

Hey, Mom stopped by. She’s pushing back my b-day celley to next weekend, since I’m still feeling like a horse ran over me.

After a few seconds, the bubbles appear.

Sommer

Aww, dang it. I was hoping you’d be feeling better so we can tear it up tomorrow night. It was a week, and I could really use a drink.

Me

Me too, but it’ll have to wait until next Saturday.

Sommer

No problem. Need anything?

Me

No thanks. Mom just dropped off more soup, so I’m set.

Sommer

All right, well, I have a customer I need to take care of. Text me if you need anything. I get off at six.

Me

*insert saluting gif* aye, aye, Captain.

Sommer

*insert kissy face emoji*

I grab the bottle of Gatorade and head for the living room to curl up on the couch. My favorite blanket is there, and once I climb beneath it and grab the remote, my head feels foggy and my eyelids heavy. I don’t even turn the TV on. Instead, I get comfortable and prepare for an afternoon nap, something I never do unless I’m sick. I don’t eat, not even a thought to the amazing soup my mom just dropped off. My mind goes to Quinn and the fact I’m considering texting him to bring me more Gatorade.