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Forgetting all about water, I fast walked in the direction of the restrooms.
I made it to the ladies’ room, but not to a stall. I spotted a trash can right at the entrance, twisted my hair back, and tossed all the heavy appetizers into it.
God. I retched until there was nothing left in my stomach.
I stood up, vision blurred from watering eyes. I wiped them with the back of my hand and reached for the towel dispenser with shaking hands. I blotted my eyes and my forehead and went to wash my hands.
Michael’s doctor co-worker was right. I looked pale and sallow.
It had to be stress and anxiety.
Anything else was too much to think about.
* * *
The stress was starting to get to Felicia. That was obvious. She was pale and not eating well. After my co-worker Shelia had suggested maybe she was pregnant, I had debated that, but dismissed it. We had only had two nights together, and we’d been very cautious. Those nights hadn’t even been that long ago. It seemed a few weeks too early for real morning sickness.
She wasn’t sleeping well and I thought that was contributing to why she looked so pale and drawn. And the reason she wasn’t sleeping well was clearly our current situation.
Quizzing each other on facts about ourselves so we could pass an immigration interview wasn’t exactly relaxing. Plus, my mother had been blowing up her phone about the damn engagement party and Felicia’s own mother had decided not to fly to New York for it, which had greatly upset her.
We were drinking coffee the day before the engagement party. We had a full day ahead of us. An appointment with the lawyer, and then we were going to look at three apartments for sale. After that, most likely I would lose her to the final details of the party, which had truthfully become something I was dreading. The whole thing had been a lot of work for her. As Felicia shifted papers around in front of her on the coffee table, her hair the very definition of bedhead, I regretted we hadn’t skipped the party.
“The tables and chairs will be delivered tomorrow at noon,” she said, reaching for her mug. She wasn’t looking where she was reaching, and she bumped it, spilling coffee over the rim. “Bloody hell.”
“Sweetheart, what do you need me to do?” I asked, using the sleeve of my ribbed shirt to mop up her coffee. It wasn’t that much and she was on the edge. “I feel bad this has all fallen on you.”
She blotted her papers with her napkin. “It’s my mess. Literally. I’m the one without the proper visa. So it should fall on me.”
“I meant more the party, but still, you don’t need to be dealing with any of it alone. That’s what I’m here for. We’re partners.” I meant that. I loved Felicia. With all of my heart. It might be crazy to fall for someone that soon after knowing them, but we’d been in a crash course on compatibility and she was it for me. The one.
Not that I’d told her. I was waiting for the moment when we had to make the decision on whether she was staying in New York, with me, or letting her visa expire and returning to England. That had been her plan all along. No sex. Follow the rules. Then we would each make a decision how we felt at the end of the forty days.
I knew my decision and I knew how I felt.
I wanted her. Forever.
She looked less certain about the whole thing. I still needed to plead my case.
Felicia finally sighed and looked up. “I know and I appreciate you for offering. You’re really a sweetheart. I’m just run a bit ragged and my mum not coming to the party is upsetting me. She’s being stubborn about letting me pay for a plane ticket.”
“I guess that’s where you get your stubbornness, then.”
She laughed lightly. “I guess so.” She tugged the sides of her satin robe tighter around her. “I swear to God, Michael, I’ve gained weight. Even this bloody robe feels tight.”
Again, I thought that was anxiety manifesting itself physically. “You don’t look one ounce heavier. I think you’re just stressed and not sleeping well and everything feels off. You were up half the night tossing and turning last night.”
She made a face. “Did I wake you?”
“No. My sexual frustration is keeping me up at night, but since I was awake too, yes, I noticed.” I was only half-kidding about that. It was hell to lie in bed next to her, feel her bodily warmth, press my lips to hers, and have to stop. It was a crime against my manhood.
“Subtle.” She picked up her coffee mug and sipped. “This is cold and I swear our creamer has gone off.” She made a face and set it down. “I can’t drink that.”
This was going to be an awesome day. Not. But I was determined to keep calm and be supportive for Felicia. My coffee tasted fine to me, but I said, “Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll go around the corner and get some coffee?”
She nodded. “I think a hot shower would help.”
Even more reason for me to be out of the apartment. I didn’t need the temptation of her naked and wet in the shower.
