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“What I think is that it reeks in here. No one would blame you for wanting fresh air or preferring to not watch someone hurl.”
“I’m staying.”
A cramp twisted my stomach again. I turned back to the toilet and heaved over and over and over. Until my stomach muscles ached.
I blinked my watery eyes and swayed toward the toilet, feeling shaky and depleted. “I forgot how much I hate being sick.”
“I really think you should see a doctor,” said Dane, concern creasing his brow.
I weakly shook my head. “Don’t need one.” What I needed was to stick close to this toilet.
His nostrils flared. “All right. But if you start showing any more of the food poisoning symptoms, I’m taking you to Urgent Care—I don’t give a damn what you say.”
“Agreed.” Another wave of nausea gripped my insides, and my stomach dry-heaved again. Fuck. “Go. Run. Save yourself.”
“I’m staying.”
I would have called him a masochist if another dry-heave hadn’t seized my insides.
Two days of nausea, vomiting, cramps, muscle aches, and diarrhea went by. And even though—against my wishes—he had a doctor come visit who asserted that I didn’t need to be hospitalized, Dane hovered around me like I was on my death bed. I was surprised he didn’t invite my family and friends here to “say their goodbyes” or something.
He insisted on working from home, as if leaving me would somehow worsen the stomach bug. In fact, he hardly left my side. I wouldn’t say he was sweet or sympathetic. He was gruff and bossy and curt, seeming a little out of his depth.
He kept flicking from one website to another, comparing lists of symptoms to be sure there was nothing he was missing. He felt positive it was food poisoning and was ready to call up the Italian restaurant until he read—again, on a website—that symptoms of food poisoning could take weeks to come on, so I could have caught it from any number of places. The doctor who came to visit had confirmed that.
Melinda, Wyatt, and Simon stopped by to see me, but Dane didn’t let them stay long, claiming I needed my rest. Which they all seemed to think was beyond cute, but they didn’t say as much to him. Nor did they comment on how much he needlessly faffed over me—ensuring I had drinks of water close by, keeping me covered with a blanket, handfeeding me crackers—like I couldn’t do anything for myself. It was pretty sweet, really.
Although the symptoms passed after two days, I was still groggy and felt like shit. I worked from home for the next few days. Dane, to my surprise, did the same.
By Sunday morning, I was fully recovered and raring to go back to work the next day. He got all snarly and surly. He thought it would be better if I took it easy for another week or so. I thought it would be better if he shoved that idea up his ass.
Standing in the middle of the den, I sighed. “I was sick, Dane, not terminally ill. I’m fine now. There’s no reason why I can’t go back to work.”
“You’re not at one-hundred percent yet,” he insisted.
“No? I feel it.” I crossed to him, touched by his concern but also a little exasperated. “The doctor told you there was no reason I couldn’t go back to work.” Which I knew had pissed Dane off. He’d been relying on the doctor to back him up.
“You can keep working from home.”
“No, I can’t. Nor do I want to. You’ve put off countless meetings, and many people are eager to reschedule—especially some guy named Blake Mercier, who called three times today. Stop clucking like a mother hen, I’m fine.”
“You had food poisoning, Vienna. That’s not always simple to recover from.”
I let out a pfft sound. “I had a stomach bug.”
“Even the doctor said it could have been food poisoning.”
“Yes, could have been. But he couldn’t be sure without a fecal sample. And I’m quite certain you’ll remember that I hadn’t been able to provide him with one. I’d been fresh out of shit. Literally. My body had purged itself in a major way.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Only you, Vienna. Only you.”
“Even if it was food poisoning, that wouldn’t mean I have to work from home any longer.”
A muscle in his cheek ticked. “You have to promise to tell me if you get too tired or need to go home.”
I almost rolled my eyes. “I promise.”
He sighed. “Then we go back to work tomorrow. You know, a lot of people would find it weird that that makes you smile.”
“I consider myself lucky that I have a job I enjoy.” But after Dane and I divorced, I’d lose the position for sure. And I’d miss the fuck out of it, just as I’d miss the fuck out of this man who’d been a very attentive—albeit curt and rude—nurse.
