Page 72 of Pretender

Fuck, I really do. It hurts my stomach how much I mean those words.

There’s the sound of a door closing in the bedroom.

“I have to go check on her now, but I’ll tell her you called.”

I hang up and rush into the room and Linnea’s on the bed in a ball, hugging her arms around her waist.

“How are you?” I say, approaching carefully. She groans in response, and then rolls back off the bed and into the bathroom. More vomiting. I sit down on the bed, worried she’ll need me and I can’t hear her from the living room. While I wait, I look up her symptoms online. From what I can tell, it’s classic food poisoning, and this can go on all night, maybe longer. With the different meats and sauces we had, anything could’ve caused it. I should call a doctor to make sure we’re doing the right thing.

Regardless, it seems it’s time to hunker down.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

fever dreams

LINNEA

It’s light out when I open my eyes. My body aches from all the vomiting and violent diarrhoea, I’m not sure I’ll ever dare look at Aiden again after that. But I can hardly move. There’s no way I can do anything on my own. I turn, with great effort, to my other side tucking my robe with me, and am met with the sight of Aiden, sleeping at a crooked angle in an armchair next to my bed, his head dipping far to the side. Ouch, poor thing. He’s been here with me all night?

Since the restaurant, it’s all hazy. It was the longest night of my life, but now it’s all a blur.

“Water,” I whisper to myself, but Aiden startles.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice hoarse with morning grogginess. “How are you?”

“I feel like I was hit by a train, and it drove straight through me and out of my butt.”

He chuckles and hands me a fresh bottle of water.

“I spoke with a doctor and had electrolyte drinks and tablets delivered. You should alternate. Small sips, still.”

“Thank you, Aiden.”

“Of course,” he says, and stretches his arms, cracking his neck to both sides. “A couple of updates.” He sits back in his chair. “Your friend Jamie called, they’re arriving next week. Also, I’ve spoken with Venetia and your main designer Olga, so they know you’re sick and will be out for a few days.”

“Days?” I blink and take in the bright hotel room. Oh fuck, of course, we’re still in Florence.

“The doctor said it’s best for you to stay put for two days after your last symptoms.”

I grimace. Oh god, where’s a hole for me to crawl into when I need one? Please let’s not talk about my symptoms.

“What about your work?” I ask instead.

“I have my phone, I can get an impressive amount of stuff done here, and I’ve got excellent staff.”

A shiver runs through me and I wrap the sad little sheet over my shoulder.

“I’ll get you a blanket, I saw one in the wardrobe.”

“Did you say Jamie called?”

“Yep, how about you call her back when you’re better,” Aiden says, tucking the heavy blanket on top of me.

I must dip in and out for the next few minutes or hours, I have no idea. All I know is I’m comfortable, there’s water nearby, and I’m elated it’s staying inside my body for now. The worst is over.

Aiden’s voice travels through the crack of the door. I enjoy listening to him speak Italian a little too much.

The door closes. Did he leave? I get chills as I tense up and tuck the blanket around my shoulders.