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Sounds of Roman moving about in the kitchen, and possibly cooking something, reach my ears, although the thoughts of food turn my stomach even more.
After a long while, I wash up and Roman raps on the door. “You okay in there?”
“I’m going to our bed to die,” I say.
“Can I come help?”
“Yeah,” I say. I swallow against a dry throat as my weak legs carry me to the bed Roman and I have been sharing for the past week.
I collapse onto the mattress, and Roman enters from the hall. The concern in his eyes wraps around me like a blanket. He sits down next to me and pulls the cover over my now-freezing body.
“Do you think it’s the flu?”
“I don’t know. I have severe pains in my stomach.”
“Maybe it was something you ate.”
I run through everything I put in my stomach. “We had the same big breakfast, and you’re not sick.”
“What about lunch?”
“I was so full from breakfast, I skipped lunch.”
“Same.” He presses his hand to my forehead. “Do you think you can drink something?”
“Yeah, I’m really thirsty.”
“I’ll be right back.” I close my eyes, and a minute later Roman is back with a tall glass of ice water.
“Can you sit up a bit?” He helps me up and I sip the water, praying to God it doesn’t go through me and thinking it will, judging by the way my stomach is protesting.
“It came on so fast,” I say.
He helps me lie back down and lightly brushes my hair from my face. “Are you tired?”
“A little bit.”
“Do you want me to leave you to sleep?”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I reach out and take his hand. “Do you think you could stay for a minute?”
“Of course.”
“Tell me about your day,” I say, as if we’re an old married couple sharing stories like it’s the most natural thing in the world for us to be doing.
“I did some work and talked to Cason. He called to see how things were going.”
“I’ve been meaning to call him.” I swallow as another wave of pain rips across my abdomen.
“I told him things were going good.”
I groan. “They were. Right up until today. I mean they still are but...ugh, whatever this is, it’s not good.”
Concerned eyes rake over my face. “Do you want me to call a doctor?”
“I haven’t had a chance to find one here yet.”
“I could take you to Emergency, or I could call my sister Maria,” he says. “Her husband is an emergency room doctor. He might be able to diagnose you over the phone.”
