“Should you actually be here?” Miranda gave Piper a critical once over.
“I look worse than I feel.” It was the truth. Mostly. She’d been able to keep some oatmeal down, and as she’d made it out the door before Myles started the coffee, nothing else had set her precarious stomach off.
“You look about two steps up from warmed-over death,” Shelby observed.
Piper made a face. “Thanks. You looked awesome, too, after you had the flu last year.”
“Just don’t give it to any of us,” Miranda said.
“Myles has been home taking care of me for days and didn’t catch it. You should be fine.” Which had been both wonderful and irritating. She was a crap patient, and she knew it. For all that she was great taking care of others, she didn’t tolerate it well herself, and Myles seemed to be on some kind of
