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“You should eat something.”
Her eyes roll over my face, then she nods and allows me to lead her into the kitchen.
After plenty of food, we end up back in the living room. I put on sitcom reruns in an attempt to distract Rae, but she ends up pacing back and forth.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Come here.”
She stops and stares at me for a moment. Then she glances back up the stairs.
“You know she’s in good hands with Joel.”
Her shoulders slump and she lets out a sigh, making her way over to the couch and snuggling in next to me.
Miles and Mackie are still in the kitchen.
Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, I look down at Rae.
“How are you?”
Her eyes meet mine for a moment, then she looks down.
Clearly, I asked a loaded question.
“Worried about Sarah.” Maybe she is. But I know there’s more going on in her head.
“Besides that.”
She blinks a few times, then opens her mouth and closes it. There’s an intensity to her gaze that I don’t quite understand.
“You can tell me anything.”
Her eyes find mine again, and I’m surprised to see some heat in them. She glances back toward the kitchen. “I—I wasn’t going to do this tonight, but I need—want—to talk to you about—”
“Well, she threw up seven times,” Joel says, walking down the stairs looking exhausted.
Rae’s attention goes to him and my stomach lurches. What the hell does she want to say to me?
“Is she still pissed at you?” Rae asks Joel.
He shakes his head as he hits the first floor. “No. She got enough of the alcohol out that she’s glad I got her out of there. But now she’s crying.” He looks at Rae. “She won’t talk to me. You’re up.”
Rae glances at me and I nod, knowing she needs to go.
We can talk later.I hope.
Rae
I make my way up the stairs and head toward the bathroom. I prepare myself for the smell of puke. It’s a smell I hate. I have to mentally prepare myself for it because otherwise I will also puke.
My poor future children better hope they never barf all over themselves then need a hug, because I’ll be too busy trying not to toss my own cookies. Mental note that I need to marry someone with a very strong stomach.
Aaron has a strong stomach.
Nope. Nope. Let’s not do that now.
I take one last big breath and head into the bathroom. Sarah is lying on a pillow on the floor with a blanket all around her. Tissues and water are within her reach, as well as a pack of Tic Tacs.
“Damn. Joel thought of everything,” I say, shutting the door behind me.
