By the time I made it through the apartment door, letting it slam behind me as I dropped my tote bag, laptop inside, against the wall. I sagged against the wall with relief.
Made it.
The question now was, what was I supposed to do? Was I going to faint? Or lose my coffee breakfast?
I really should’ve stopped after that second cup. I was being punished now by the coffee gods, wasn’t I?
I tugged at the neck of my coat, then pulled down the zipper, which got caught on the edge of the fabric that was meant to keep the wind off of me, though right now, it felt like a straitjacket.
“Come on,” I moaned, yanking at the zipper.
At that moment, my stomach rolled high up into my ribs, along with another wave of hot nausea.
Yep. I was definitely going to be sick.
At least no one was here to see it. I just needed to make it to the bathroom. I took a step, most of my weight still leaning against the wall.
I didn’t hear the door open behind me until it shut, startling me another step forward as I twisted around. My body didn’t appreciate the abrupt movement.
Josh stood in front of me, looking me over as his eyes widened. Easily, without the struggle I was having, he unzipped his coat. He slung it over one of the hooks. “Brielle? You don’t look good.”
“Wow,” I choked out. I tried to force myself to sound easy-breezy, like there was no problem at all. Even though my entire body felt anything but easy-breezy and there definitely was a problem. “Thanks.”
He shook his head, taking a step toward me.
I blinked at him. “You should be at work.”
“I came home early. I had an appointment.”
“Oh, that’s good. Half days are nice. You already have those saved up when you just started?”
“They allow sick days for appointments.”
I nodded, feeling another wave of nausea. I sucked my cheeks in, trying to quell it as I leaned over my knees.
“Is something the matter? You don’t look good. You’re clearly sick.”
I couldn’t answer. I needed to get to the bathroom. Now. Thirty seconds ago. Five minutes ago so that I could turn the lock and get on my knees in front of the toilet before Josh walked in the door. But it was too late.
“Brielle, are you okay?”
I was … fine.
I was great.
“Fantastic,” I said.
And then I threw up all over his shoes.
sixteen
Secretly,I hoped that sleazy Jackson from his not-holiday dive bar was also throwing his guts up if this was from the bar. Even though, for some reason, I had a feeling that he was likely still living it up with his two-dates-a-night schedule. That grimy bar was probably his breeding ground. He was immune to the layer of grime on the glassware.
I was pretty sure I was actually suffering from a very real case of food poisoning. Glass poisoning? It seemed odd that it had taken this long to settle in, but …
At least I hadn’t been drugged.
I almost wanted to laugh—if I didn’t want to cry at how nauseous I felt.
