Page 21 of Blood and Buttercups

“Excuse me for a minute,” I say before running to the bathroom and emptying my stomach again.

“Sorry.” I prop myself up next to the tub, clenching my eyes shut. “Yes, a man bit me on a date. It was really disturbing.”

“All right, here’s what I need you to do, Piper,” she says, as if I’ve confirmed something for her. “I want you to call someone and have them stop by the store and buy a nice big steak for you. Cook it to exactly one hundred twenty degrees, then eat the whole thing. It’ll be difficult to get down, but you should feel better after you do. As soon as you’re finished, come into the office.”

“A steak? Like actualcow?” I ask, the thought of it making my stomach heave again. Thankfully, there’s nothing left in it.

“That’s right, it has to be beef.”

“But I don’t eat meat,” I whisper.

“You do now,” she says like a mother telling a toddler to finish her peas. “I’ll be expecting you, Piper. We’ll do a blood draw as soon as you get here, so hurry in.”

I hang up, and my head spins. She can’t be serious.

Yet I feel awful enough that I’m willing to try just about anything—even that. But if I call Max and ask him to buy me a steak, he’ll know something is up. And I can’t ask Olivia to leave work.

My parents are away for the summer, and I wouldn’t want to hear my dad lecture me about my eating habits anyway. I scroll through my phone, looking for the phone number for the big grocery store that’s only about fifteen minutes away.

“Do you offer grocery delivery?” I ask as soon as I reach a human after about twenty different automated department prompts.

“We do through our website,” the woman says. “We’re scheduled out until tomorrow at noon, but you should be able to get a spot after that.”

“Tomorrow?”

“That’s right.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, hanging up.

That won’t work.

I scroll through my contacts until I get to Howell’s Grocery Store. Britta answers the phone, which is a relief. I certainly didn’t want to talk to her brother.

“Hi, Britta,” I say. “This is Piper. I don’t suppose you do grocery delivery, do you?”

“Hey, Piper,” Britta says brightly. “We do. Do you need to place an order?”

“How far out are you scheduled?”

“Scheduled?” she asks blankly. “Oh, we’re not really. I can bring something by right now if you need it.”

Bless her heart—and not in a snotty Southern way. I mean it down to the tips of my toes. If she were here, I’d give her a great big hug.

“That would be awesome. Can I get a steak and a bottle of sparkling water?”

“Just a single steak and a bottle of sparkling water?” she says, a smile in her voice. “That’s a bit random.”

“My stomach’s off, and that’s what my doctor told me to try.”

“Oh, gosh, I hope you’re not anemic or something,” she says. “What kind of steak?”

“She said it has to becow.” I say the word like a meat-eater might say “grasshopper” or “kale.”

“Got it—cow steak it is,” Britta laughs. “We’ll get it to you right away. Do you want to pay now with a card, or would you rather use cash? No, you know what, just throw a few extra roses into our next order, and we’ll call it even.”

“You sure?”

“Of course. Remind me what your address is again. We’ll be there soon.”

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