Page 2 of Worth the Vow

“So?” When I see Kate’s eyes narrow noticeably, I try to relax and force myself to slam a mask of indifference on my face. Can a man have resting bitch face? I have it, I’ve been told, and it’s clear that Kate appears ready to deck me. Resting dick face? Is that a thing?

“I — I’m not a taker. I’m not a mooch. I don’t like feeling like I’m taking advantage of someone.”

“That argument is moot. You’d have been taking advantage of my family if you had suggested we give you free insurance. If my mom offered it to you, that was out of the goodness of her heart.”

Kate vehemently shakes her head. “I’m barely working there these days. I’d think about it if most of my time was spent there. But I’m not taking insurance from your family when I work ten hours a month at the most.”

“What would make you take insurance?” I ask, but as she’s about to respond, she gasps and presses into her abdomen.

“Dammit,” she breathes.

“What happened?” I sit next to her, ready to swoop in for whatever she needs … but I don’t have a fucking clue what that may be. I’m working blind here.

“It’s probably a ruptured cyst,” she murmurs.

“Ruptured?”

“Yeah. The pain will go away.”

“You know that for a fact?” I ask in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“How many of these ruptured cysts have you experienced, Katharine?” As I ask, I hear a sound that can only be described as a growl. She hates it when I call her Katharine, which is only partially why I do it. She just looks like a Katharine to me, and I have no idea why.

“Too many to count.”

“What will make it better right now?”

“A bath sometimes works. And Tylenol.”

“Seriously? Only Tylenol?” If something ruptures in my body, I’ll be expecting codeine, morphine, or anything that knocks me the fuck out. Screw this Tylenol bullshit.

“That’s all I have, so it’ll have to do,” she retorts through the glaze of tears forming beneath her lashes. I’m not sure if they’re being caused by the pain she’s in … or me.

“If you had a doctor, what would they prescribe?” I try to remember if I kept any pain medication when I hurt my back a year or two ago. It has to be better than acetaminophen.

“Something not over-the-counter, obviously.”

“Is there a chance this isn’t a ruptured cyst?” I pry.

Kate shrugs. “Maybe. But this isn’t my first rodeo. I’m about eighty percent sure it is.”

“Jesus, Kate. That’s really giving a lot of room for variability,” I say, shaking my head in frustration. I’m not frustrated with Kate. I’m frustrated with the fact that I can’t solve this problem for her.

“Not much either of us can do about it.”

I pull out my phone and do a quick Google search, then look up in horror. “It says you might need surgery.”

Kate rolls her eyes. “I thought I was the dramatic one here, Dom. I’d know if it was surgical.”

“How so?”

“Well, the pain is different. It’s way more intense.”

“You’ve had this happen before?” I shout, abruptly stopping my pacing as I stare at her in shock.

“Uh, yeah. Twice that involved a short hospital stay. Once that required a laparoscopic procedure. The fucking ultrasound was inconclusive, so they did an exploratory procedure to find it. Damn thing had already passed, and I went under the knife for no reason. Oh, and another laparoscopic procedure when I was sixteen, for a diagnosis. I almost forgot about that one,” she says breathlessly as she presses her palm against here stomach again.

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