is it....LOVE!?

Fifteen

"Rosa, sweetie you have to get out bed and take some fresh air."
Mrs Montero sat at the edge of my bed, brushing my hair out of my face with her fingers.

"I will. I just need a few minutes more."
I groaned and closed my eyes again.
I wasn't feeling too good, these past few days, I've been in bed, sleeping or eating or talking to mom on the phone.

I haven't seen her since that day Sam took us around town, that was six days ago. The cake shop was almost completely finished, I got a credit alert the other day. I hope she wasn't afraid to spend our money.

'Thank you."
I opened my eyes as I felt her weight leave the bed.

"You're welcome."
She said, smiling.
She brought me breakfast. She's been doing it everyday for six days now.

I sighed softly and sat up. I was Damn hungry but I didn't want to go down to eat because I wasn't ready to set eyes on that swine.

I picked the tray from my nightstand.
I'd never sleep in that bed again. How could he!? In that bed...
I know he had no regard fo me but he could've at least shown some respect for those vows he made in front of a Roman Catholic priest.

"Where's she?"
I heard an unfamiliar voice in the hallway, why did Mrs Montero leaving the door slightly ajar?

"Over here Doc."
She called a doctor? I sighed.
There was a soft knock on the door before it was pushed open.

"I didn't call him. I don't know who did."
She explained when she noticed the scowl on my face.

"Good morning Mrs Blackwood."
The doctor beamed at me. I think I've seen too much of that saccharine sweet smile.

"Good morning doctor. Please call me Rose."
Yes, I still detest that name.

"I'm sorry to ask but who called you?"
He smiled calmly, not a bit disturbed by my question and yeah... his good looks didn't go unnoticed.

"Your husband called me."
I know my mouth fell open. How did he know? I haven't seen him since that night.

"Let me introduce myself. I'm Dr Tyler Quinn and I'm Mr Blackwood's doctor."
I nodded slowly.

"So, talk to me, how do you feel?"
He sat on the couch at the other end of the room.

"I feel weak and slightly nauseous at times."
He nodded.

"I just love my bed these past few days."
I said sincerely. He waited a few seconds as if waiting for more.

"Sounds like an oncoming fever."
He opened his small bag and pulled out one sample bottle and a new syringe.

"We can't be so sure. I'll have to run some tests on you."
He wrote something on the bottle and syringe.
I know what he wanted, blood and urine.
I crawled out of bed, still in my oversized shirt.

"Your urine."
He handed the bottle to me.
I padded to the adjoining bathroom.

When I returned to the room, Dr Quinn had the very familiar flexible tube and a bottle of metholated spirit and cotton wool in his hands.
I returned the bottle to him with my urine in it and no, I wasn't disgusted. I've cleaned worse things.

"Now, your blood sample."
He motioned for me to sit. I did, obediently and offered him my arm.
I watched him absently as he went through the process of drawing my blood with practiced expertise.

"You look fine to me. I'll be back tomorrow morning with results and medication."
He held the spirit sodden cotton wool to the small puncture hole the niddle left on my skin.