I spot Chris as soon as I walk into the bedroom. He's stretched out on the lounge chair by the fireplace in our bedroom, his face tilted toward the window. The early afternoon sun's rays are stroking his cheek with a golden glow. He's scruffy, two day's worth of beard decorating his face. Right now those blue eyes are closed and even from a few feet away, I can see how tired he is.

He's on the mend, but his ear seems to bother him more at night than it does during the day. This morning he went back to the doctor another opinion and now he's on regular antibiotics, just like Lily still is. Only difference is she just has a few pills left and she's most definitely on the mend. She went back to school this morning.

"Think you'll make it," I ask softly, realizing he's not asleep.

"With the help of your tender loving care. I just might manage to survive," he says turning his head to look at me. "Ever the sweet talker." I joke.

Ouch! I guess I deserve that, I have been concentrating a lot more on tidying downstairs than I have on him so far today. But that's something easily remedied.He slides his legs over as I move beside his chair, leaving me enough room to sit down. Sliding my fingers between his, I apologize, "Sorry, baby, I just wanted to get everything picked up before the kids get back home. Its a whole lot easier when they're not here to put it all right back."

"I was kidding."

"Well I"m all yours for the next two hours. Is there anything you need? A drink? A blanket?"

"Just your company," he requests, squeezing my hand.

"You got it," I reply with a smile, scooting around a little to get more comfy.

There's a chenille blanket on the floor beside him and he reaches down with one hand, tugging it up until I can grab and end and pull it over both of us until we're tucked underneath. I'm really glad we bought another of these chairs, its almost the twin of the one we have in the apartment in New York, one I bought long ago, during our first marriage. "Worried about the three shows you're going to have make up sometime?" I ask as I settle against his chest.

"More worried about whats being said about me cancelling in the first place. I'm sure the word on the street is that I know I can't cut it anymore and this was just a ruse to cancel shows that weren't selling well to begin with."

"We could always arrange to leak a copy of your prescription or get a paparazzi photo of you coming out of the clinic in this week's tabloids," I suggest, only half joking. Sometimes the best defensive involves manipulating the press.

I swear he actually thinks about it for a minute before saying, "Nah, one of the tabloids would twist it into be having a drug problem or soemthing. I'll reschedule the concerts and rock their socks off. Old hat, my ass."

"Mmm, that's the spirit. And besides I could tell them a few stories that would illustrate just how old hat you're not."I look up at Chris and see a lazy grin start to turn the corners of his mouth upward. "Think we can keep those stories between us, baby.""You think?""Oh I know," he confirms. He rubs his hand against my back, then falls silent, his eyelids starting to droop again.

I lay quietly with him for a little bit, very tempted to join him for a nap, but with my luck I'd sleep past the time to pick up the kids and that would be very bad. So once I'm fairly certain Chris is asleep I very carefully get up and rearrange the blanket around him. Then lean down and kiss his forehead. Some stupid reviewers may think he's past his heyday, but he'll always be number one to me.