She lies down in my arms and wraps her legs around mine. “Night, babe.”
I look down at her. “Really, ice cream makes you sleepy?”
She sighs. “Hmmm.” Then she sleeps. Strange.
I wake up to the sound of puke, and Abby is not in bed. f**k!
That must be the ice cream she ate last night. I run to the bathroom and find her in the toilet bowl. I hold her hair away from her face, and she gestures her hand that she’s fine. I take a glass, fill with water, and give it to her.
When she’s done puking, she washes her face, gargles, and brushes her teeth. She looks not well, then she goes back to bed.
“I’m fine, babe. That must be the ice cream I ate last night.”
I touch her forehead, thank God, she is not hot. “Can I get you something to drink?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you want me to call a d
