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She nodded and went in front of him. As difficult as this was, it was for the best. She’d planned to break up with him anyway, before he showed up unexpectedly. He was right that he shouldn’t have assumed it was okay to surprise her, but that didn’t make Aine feel any better about how things were ending between them.
“Stuart needs to get back,” she said to Ava when they got to the top of the stairs.
“But you just got here.”
“Something came up,” he said, looking between Aine and her sister.
“I’ll be back after I take Stuart to the airport.”
“I can call a cab.”
“In Cambria? I don’t think so,” said Ava. “Wait,” she added, looking at Aine. “Are you okay? You’re pale again. Go sit down.”
“What’s happening?” asked Tabon, coming upstairs.
“Stuart needs to go back to Yachats, but I don’t think Aine should take him to the airport. Look at her.”
She had to admit, her stomach hurt worse than it had any time before. She gripped the back of the sofa.
“Lie down!” Ava shouted at her.
She didn’t argue. She felt as though she might pass out.
“I’ll give you a lift to the airport,” Tabon offered.
“
Thank you. I’m so sorry, Stuart.”
The look of concern on Stuart’s face mirrored her sister’s. Did she really look that bad?
Pen and Tara came inside too.
“What’s wrong?” Tara asked.
“Nothing. I have a stomach ache. Why is everyone making such a big deal of it?”
Tara walked over and felt her forehead. Aine tried to move out of her reach, but there wasn’t any place she could go.
“You’re warm. Maybe you should rest.”
Sure, Tara wanted her to rest, probably so she could sink her hooks into Striker without Aine’s interference. Although he had said that there wasn’t anyone else, and then he’d added that there never would be.
The pain intensified, and Aine rested her head against one of the throw pillows. Obviously, she was right about the stress giving her an ulcer. Every time she thought about Striker, it hurt worse.
Stuart came over to the sofa, and Tara moved out of his way.
“I’m sorry,” she said again when he knelt beside her.
“I’m worried about you.” He ran his fingertip down her cheek. “I don’t want to leave if there’s something wrong.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure it’s just a stomach bug or something like that. Better you go so you don’t catch it.”
He nodded, leaned forward, and kissed her forehead. The hurt look he’d had on his face when she saw him standing in the doorway, witnessing Striker comforting her, was back.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“I’ll see you when you get back?” he asked.
