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Reluctantly, we break the kiss. He rests his forehead on mine and exhales. “Last chance to come back to the hotel with me.”
I smile sadly. “I’ll text you as soon as I land.” Pressing my lips to his once more, I step away. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Our hands stay connected until we’re too far apart and need to let go. I hold back my tears while I approach the counter and hand the woman my ticket. Once she’s done scanning it, I make my way onto the plane. My phone vibrates in my pocket as soon as I find my seat.
Holden: I miss you already.
Leaning my head against the window, a tear slips out and slides down my cheek. When is this going to get easier?
CALEB SITS ON THE couch in front of me, listening to me rant about how mine and Holden’s weekend was almost entirely a fail. He cringes when I tell him I’ve spent the last 48 hours throwing up. Immediately, he grabs my bottle of sanitizer and douse his hands in it.
“Stop being a baby.” I chuckle. “It’s just stress.”
“I’m still taking preventative measures.”
I get up to grab my jacket and books. “Alright Kermit, let’s go.”
“You’re still going to class? I thought you were sick.”
“Anxiety sick is not contagious, and life keeps going. So, come on or I’m going to be late.”
He looks as if he wants to disagree but ultimately chooses not to say anything. Instead, he stands up and follows me out the door.
TRYING TO MAKE COFFEE and scones is insanely difficult when you feel like you’re going to hurl every five seconds. I do my best to keep it down, focusing on other things like where to go on our honeymoon. Unfortunately for me, that only works for so long before I’m running to the bathroom and heaving into the toilet.
“Are you okay?” Dawson asks through the door.
I wipe my mouth with a paper towel and toss it into the toilet. “Yeah.” I splash some cold water over my face and then open the door. Dawson stands on the other side and looks at me, concerned. “What? I’m fine.”
“You’re going home.”
“No, really. I’m alright.”
“Okay, one, we serve food. We can’t take that chance. And two, the sound of your vomiting is not appealing, so you’re going.”
I roll my eyes and take out my phone, sending a text to Caleb to pick me up. He replies that his class lets out in 20 minutes and he’ll come straight here after. I thank him and then compose a message to Holden.
Me: Dawson is sending me home. ??
In under a minute, my phone rings and my fiancé’s face appears on the screen. I take a deep breath before answering it, preparing for the third degree.
“Hello?”
“You’re still getting sick?” His voice is laced with worry.
“Yeah, but I’m fine. Really.”
He sighs. “Alright, I’m talking to coach and getting on the next flight out.”
“Holden, that’s really not necessary.”
“I told you. You come first.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “I know, but I’m telling you, I’m alright. You don’t need to mess with your career to come take care of me.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds before finally groaning. “At least go to the doctor. There is a walk-in right around the corner from Dolce.”
