Page 62 of Not Quite Perfect

“I’m fine,” I said, pushing to my feet and rinsing my mouth out in the sink. Opening the medicine cabinet, I pulled down the mouthwash. Just as I was about to take a swig out of it, I thought better of that plan. I only assumed I had food poisoning. It could also be the flu; it was the season for it, after all, and a few of my co-workers had been out this week battling it.

David stood as well, stepping close to me. Setting his hands to my arms, he turned me toward him. “You’renotfine, Victoria. You haven’t been fine for a couple of weeks. I’m worried about you.”

Damn. I didn’t want him worrying about me. He had enough on his plate with the new workload he’d been given taking over the other professor’s class. I set my palm to his chest. “It’s just food poisoning, I promise.”

His eyes stayed locked on mine, and I watched as he seemed to struggle with something. Eventually he pulled me to his chest, wrapping his arms around my back. “I think you should see a doctor.”

I shrugged out of his embrace. “What? No. That’s crazy.”

“Victoria, you’re depressed.”

“What? No. I’m not depressed.” I shook my head and took a few steps back, until I hit the wall at my rear.

David blew out a frustrated breath and pushed his fingers through his hair, linking them at the back of his head. “Then how else do you explain the exhaustion? The forgetfulness? The nausea?” He looked meaningfully at the toilet. “I know the signs when I see them.”

On the one hand, I appreciated that he was concerned for my health and wellbeing, but depressed? That was preposterous. Things were going so well. I had a boyfriend I was madly in love with, and even though I’d lost a job I thought I’d enjoyed, I’d landed one that I liked even more. Plus, it paidwaybetter. Aside from the situation with my mom, things had never been better.

On the other hand, he wasn’t wrong about all those things either. I had been more tired than usual lately. And less than an hour ago, I’d been having trouble remembering how to make a gravy I’d perfected nearly a decade past. And now, the vomiting. Maybe I’d been sick for awhile, but hadn’t realized it until now. I’d have to make a doctor’s appointment next week to get checked out.

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. Sure, I’m not one hundred percent at my best, but it’s not depression.”

“I don’t know, baby.” He peered down at me, his eyes skeptical over my claim. “You don’t look great either. Something’s definitely the matter.”

I swatted him. “Hey! I just threw up. Of course I don’t look great.”

“You know I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but something’s off, Vic.” He brushed my hair back from my face, his palms cradling my cheeks as he stared into my eyes. “Will you promise you’ll go to a doctor this week?”

I nodded and slid my arms around his waist, linking my hands at the small of his back. “I’ll make an appointment on Monday.”

“Thank you.” He dropped a kiss to my forehead. Winning even more points for Boyfriend of the Year, he didn’t even wince when his lips came in contact with the clammy sweat dotting my brow. “I’ve been so worried about you. This thing with your mom—”

I unhooked my hands and set my index finger to his lips. “No. I don’t want to talk about her. She’s made her decision, and now she has to live with the consequences. If she can’t accept that you and I are together, then she can’t be a part of my life.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

I shrugged. “I mean, I don’t love it. But I’m not losing any sleep over it either.”

We both chuckled ruefully. The truth was, I wasn’t losing sleep overanything. In fact, sleeping was all I’d been doing lately. All that running around during Mayor Donaldson’s campaign had taken a physical toll on me. Sometimes, I thought that bears had the right of it by hibernating for a whole season. More and more going to bed in November and waking up in February seemed like an excellent idea.

“So, um … I might have done something. Earlier this afternoon.”

“When you went out for molasses?”

That reminded me, I still had to make the yams.

“I didn’t go for molasses,” he said, hefting himself up onto the counter and pulling me between his spread thighs. “I actually went to speak to your mother.”

My jaw dropped open. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because I thought you were depressed because she wasn’t speaking to you. I would have done anything to make things better between the two of you. I feel guilty.”

My heart melted. I didn’t think it was possible for me to love this man any more than I already did, but everyday he showed me just how terrific he truly was. I may not be speaking with my mom, but I’d be forever thankful that she’d married Richard Carstairs, thus inadvertently introducing me to his son and setting me on the path toward my happily-ever-after.

“There’s nothing for you to feel guilty for. As long as she’s obsessed with the idea that you and I are somehow living in sin because we’re supposedly brother and sister, there’s nothing anyone can do.” I pushed away and grabbed his hand. “Enough about that, though. I’ve got two hungry brothers out there who are liable to burn down my kitchen if left unsupervised.”

David dropped down from the counter, but before I could tug him out of the room, he squeezed my hand. “That’s not her problem with me, by the way.”

I turned back around. “What? Of course it is. She won’t let me forget.”

---