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“I’m sorry,” I said at last, holding up a hand to halt Amie as she began discussing her fee and payment. “I really am not feeling well, so I need to find Cal and get going.” Blessedly, the waitress arrived with Cal’s to-go order, and I dropped some cash into her hand to cover the entire meal—mine and Amie’s. “But unfortunately, this isn’t going to work out after all. I appreciate you coming down here, and I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
A half-eaten onion ring fell from her gaping mouth as I turned away, and I couldn’t help the small satisfied chuckle that escaped me.
Once outside, I inhaled deeply, willing the fresh air to quell the nausea in my stomach. Then I called Cal, who appeared at my side in moments.
“Can you drive?” I asked, passing him the keys. “I’m not feeling well.”
“Sure thing,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead then leading me to the Jeep.
The bumpy ride home was hell on my stomach, and I was barely out of the car before I was losing what little I’d managed to eat at the edge of my gravel drive. When I straightened, Cal swept me off my feet and carried me inside. I didn’t have the energy to protest, especially not when we barely made it to my room before I was dashing into the bathroom to puke again. Cal followed me in, but the second he settled a hand on my back, I screamed at him to go away.
I didn’t want him to see me like this.
Untold minutes—hours, days—later, I finally returned to my room, fully expecting to find Cal had left. Instead, he was propped up against my headboard, long legs stretched in front of him, watching reruns of one of the earlier seasons ofSouthern Charmon the TV.
I crawled in next to him and buried my face in my hands.
“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. A moment later, his hand settled on my head, his fingers brushing soothingly through my hair.
“Better,” I said. “Hopefully it’s just a bug from something I ate yesterday and not like the flu. I don’t have time for the flu.”
“Well, lucky for you,” he said, rolling onto his side and scooping an arm under me to haul me against him, “it’s Friday, so you don’t have to leave this bed until Monday if you don’t want.”
“I had plans with my sisters this weekend,” I grumbled.
“Don’t care. You’re staying here until we’re sure it was just a little bug.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, grinning against his chest when he pinched my side.
“Brat,” he said, squeezing me tight for a moment before letting go completely, his touch and weight next to me vanishing a moment later.
I lifted my head. “Where are you going?”
“To get Skye,” he said simply.
“But…why?”
“You’re sick, Mar. You don’t seriously think I’m going to leave you here alone all weekend, do you?”
My heart swelled. For how tense and tenuous the early stages of our relationship was, it amazed me how easy it was to be with him now. How he was willing to spend time with me, take care of me because I wasn’t feeling well, without me even having to ask. How he was going back to the city—a thirty minute drive one way—simply to get his dog so he didn’t again have to leave my side until I was feeling better.
I don’t know what I did to deserve him, but I was damn thankful for it.
Bending over me, he pressed a light, sweet kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”
To his retreating form, I said, “We’ll talk about Amie when you are.”
Cal stiffened in the doorway, turning his head only enough for me to see his slight, terse nod before he disappeared.
Cal was back ina little over an hour, and he entered my house—Skye racing in ahead of him and slip-sliding across my hardwood floors—with his arms laden with shopping bags.
“What’s all this?” I asked as I shuffled down the stairs toward him. Skye leapt at me, and I barely managed to stay upright.
“Skye!” Cal scolded. “Down!”
The pup obeyed, sitting her fluffy white-blonde butt on the floor, shaggy golden tail sweeping happily behind her as she stared expectantly at me.
In the months since Cal and I had gotten together the first time, Skye and I had perfected this little song and dance. With a scratch under her chin, I moved past her and opened the pantry, withdrawing one of the artisan dog treats Cal insisted on buying for her because the mass produced ones “are full of bad shit.”
