Page 142 of Crimson Tears

She smiles as she talks, the love and joy she has for her men clearly written all over her face.

“What do you enjoy with Boris and Cillian? Do you have things you do separately?”

I nod as a grin stretches my lips.

“I take walks around our lake with them and have coffee on the porch. Laney and her men invited us for a puzzle night and that was really fun. I think we’re starting to find out what each of us needs from the other. But Boris likes the quiet moments with me, like on the porch or cooking together. Cillian likes to ride in the car while I push it to the limit and blast music. It’s like my soul has a place to settle with each of them.”

“Isn’t it strange that we’re taught that one person is supposed to do all of that for us?” She downs the rest of her champagne and signals to the waitress for another.

“It is. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy with Boris. It wasn’t until Cillian came around that I realized something was missing.”

Evie smiles, taking my hand in hers and squeezing before letting go.

“I am happy for you, Ness.”

I can’t help but grin because I really am happy, truly. I never thought I would be able to say that, or allow myself to be this full of joy. For so many years, I punished myself and said a lifeof misery was what I deserved after Enya. But I know she didn’t want that for me.

“Ness,” Evie says seriously, “don’t let the fear of losing what you have keep you from enjoying it. We deserve to be happy.”

That’s the hard part. I really want to believe that, but my struggle is that anytime I enjoy something, my father's voice rings in my head.

If you ever love something, someone will find a way to use it against you.

I shake my head as Evie pours us another glass of champagne. I hadn’t even realized I’d drank all of mine.

She raises her glass in the air, and I decide to put my past behind me. He can’t get to me anymore.

“Cheers to figuring out how to find our own happiness.”

“Sláinte,” I say, truly meaning the Irish wish for good health.

I go to laugh as I hold up my glass, but that wave of nausea returns, making me lurch forward with the intensity. Evie notices immediately.

“You okay?” she asks.

I can only shake my head as I cover my mouth. Evie thinks quickly and dumps the ice bucket out before handing it to me, and I violently vomit into it. She carefully rubs my back as she picks up my drink and sniffs it, instantly calling someone in.

Was I poisoned?

“Check this now. Call Doc.”

I can’t focus on her as I heave everything I just ate into the bucket, but she makes sure the towel on my head stays in place.

I don’t know how long it goes on for, just that by the end of it, I feel like I might pass out. My face physically hurts. When I think I’m done, I sit back and Evie cracks open a fresh bottle of water. I try to chug it, the cool liquid bringing relief to my throat, but she stops me.

“Small sips, Ness, they’re testing your drink now.”

Dozens of people scramble around us, the staff looking panicked as they’re questioned by our team.

I nod, trying not to cry. I have no idea what kind of poison makes you vomit like that, but I feel like everything I had the past week was just exorcized out of me.

Then, it starts all over again. This time, a larger bucket with a liner is placed in front of me. I choke as tears run down my face from the force of my heaving, the bile coming out so strong it forces itself out of my nose.

“Doc!” Evie yells in a panic. This can’t be normal. I feel like I can hardly take a breath between gagging.

I barely make out Doc running into the spa, nearly slipping on the damp tile from the pool water as he hastily moves to kneel at my side.

He asks me about my symptoms and takes my temperature before starting an IV. I don’t even flinch as the needle punctures my skin, too focused on making sure that everything that comes out of me goes into the bucket and not all over the floor.

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