“Pen, you’re such an asshole.”
“Awww, I love you too, babe,” she said, trying to sound sweet, though we all knew better.
When we pulled apart, Morgan noted the color returning to my cheeks. I looked around the room, trying to separate reality from the fever. “I think there was a doctor here?”
“Yeah, Dr. Montgomery’s been checking on you,” Morgan confirmed.
“When your fever wouldn’t break, he made us pull down your pants so he could give you a shot,” Penelope added helpfully. “He knows your ass up close and personal now. Nice thong, by the way.”
“Good Lord, I don’t even remember that.”
“He’s been checking on you around the clock, too,” Morgan added.
“If he’s single, you should hit that, or I will,” Penelope offered. It made me wonder what the status of her crush on Elliott was. We had never addressed the elephant in the room.
I sensed Elliott waking before I even saw him move. I didn't look at him; I was too busy frantically trying to figure out which of my hazy memories were real and which were dreams. Had he really held me in the shower? Had I really told him I was jealous?
“He’s all yours,” I said to Penelope after a pause.
“Yeah, I figured,” she said with a sly, knowing grin. Maybe she was over it.
I’d never spoken to either of them about what had happened between Elliott and me all those years ago, but I had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t hard to piece together.
“You feeling better?” Elliott asked. His voice was raw, his eyes bloodshot. He looked exhausted, and a fresh wave of guilt hit me.
“I feel like I got hit by a bus, but better than before.”
He nodded slowly.
“Why didn’t you tell us you felt sick the minute you knew?” Morgan asked.
“We weren’t speaking,” I reminded her gently. “You guys weren't answering my texts. I felt off before I even landed, but I thought I’d just overworked myself. I didn't know I wassick-sick until I got here.”
“Well, it was a truly terrifying way to kick off a wedding trip. Thanks for that,” Penelope said, the snark returning in full force.
“I’m sorry, Morgan. I didn't mean to ruin your week or stress you out.”
“Good Lord, Van, you didn't plan a fever.”
“That’s enough, Mother Hen and Evil Witch,” Elliott’s voice rumbled from the chair. “Why don’t you two go get breakfast and let her rest?”
They both left—Morgan for a nap and Penelope off to find a new victim. Once the door clicked shut, I finally swung my legs over the side of the bed. I was in a different sports bra and boy shorts that weren't mine. The moment my feet hit the floor, my left leg buckled. I flinched, the sharp, white-hot pain catching me off guard.
“What? What hurts?” Elliott was on his feet in a second.
“My leg. It’s been hurting since I got here.”
“Should I call the doctor back?”
“No, I’ll be okay. I just have to wait it out.”
“That doesn't sound normal, Ness.”
“It probably isn't, but it’s just my reality.”
I noticed another bag next to mine and a few of Elliott’s things scattered around the room. He shrugged when he saw me looking. “I kind of moved in while you were out.”
“Thank you… for everything,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I don't know which memories are real, but you were ina lot of them. Thank you for staying. My mom will love you even more now, if that’s possible.”
