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She laughed. “Yes, if you’re coming with me.” She was joking around, but she was starting to feel terrible. She brought her hand up to her forehead. It felt cold and clammy.
“Seriously, Molly. Are you okay?”
“I think so. I feel a bit dizzy and woozy.”
“Can you stand? Do you want me to help you to the bedroom?”
She got to her feet, but had to grab his arm, she felt so dizzy.
He frowned and scooped her up in his arms.
“Ooh!” she chuckled. “My hero!”
He carried her through to the bedroom and gently set her down on the bed. “Do you want me to get you anything? A glass of water? Should I call the doctor?”
“No. I’m fine. It’ll pass in a minute, I’m sure.”
He took hold of her hand and stroked it. “I hope so, but if it doesn’t, I’m taking you to the doctor.”
She made a face, wanting to tell him that it was nothing—but it was something, all right. It was a wave of nausea that hit her hard. She let go of his hand and scrambled off the bed, only just making it to the bathroom in time.
“Are you okay?”
To her horror, Marcos was standing in the doorway watching her throw up. “Go away! I’m fine. The worst that’s going to happen is that I’ll die of shame from you watching!”
“Okay, but I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
“Go. Away,” she said as forcefully as she could before another wave took her.
It was a good fifteen minutes before she risked getting up. It seemed to have passed as quickly as it came. She felt fine now—other than a desperate need to brush her teeth and an acute case of embarrassment. As soon as she ran her toothbrush under the faucet, there was a tap on the door.
“Are you okay in there?”
“I am, I promise. I’m all better now. Give me a minute, and I’ll be right out.” She needed to at least brush her teeth, wash her face, and put on some fresh eyeliner before she could face him.
She opened the door slowly. He was sitting on the edge of the bed looking worriedly at the bathroom. He got straight to his feet.
“I’m okay, really. I don’t know what it was, but it’s gone now.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be. It just came out of the blue. I got dizzy, got sick, threw up, and now I’m fine again.” She smiled up at him, hoping to reassure him—and hoping that the toothpaste and mouthwash had done their job.
“Okay, if you say so. But I think we should stay here. I don’t think you should go out anywhere in case it comes back.”
She laughed. “We can’t. Chelsea’s threatened that if we don’t go out, she’ll just bring everyone here—and she’ll do it, you know what she’s like.”
Marcos smiled. “She’s a little madam, is what she is. But this time I might like her idea. Let them all come here—if you don’t mind. That way if you don’t feel well, you only have a few steps to go to your own bed.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “Or your own bathroom.”
Molly cringed. “I can’t believe you saw me throw up!”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll see a lot worse over the years.”
She had to laugh. “Sorry, that might mean a lot when we’re in our eighties and have seen and done it all together. Right now, it’s just embarrassing.”
He rubbed her shoulder. “You’ll get over it.”
~ ~ ~
