Page 114 of Overdue I Love You's
“Care to share?”
Dean fixates on our hands. “It’s in the paperwork at Vuk Securities.”
The memory hits me outrageously.
“Will your health be a problem?” Callahan Vuk reviewed the paperwork with disinterest. He didn’t linger on information and passed my name multiple times. It’s the first time I called him odd in my head. The scar on his chin, the tick in his jaw, the stubborn unhappiness shadowing over him.
“No,” I replied.
“I didn’t think you read it.” I turn to look at Dean, our hands slipping away.
He doesn’t bat an eye when he catches it. Tightening his hold. “Does it bother you that I know?”
“Will you forget it if I ask?”
“No,” he grumbles. “Your migraines don’t bother me.”
“They shouldn’t,” I retort. “But this whole time I thought I could be normal around you.”
“You’re used to hiding yourself and look,” his thumb swipes against my skin. “You’re calling it normal.”
It bothers me a lot more than I’d like it too. This whole experience is meant to be a blank slate. Yet Dean has known the whole time, kept an eye on me, watched me like a hawk, and is constantly there in every corner of my being.
Most would find this suffocating, but it’s comforting.
A solid wall to lean on.
“It actually doesn’t matter,” I sigh. “I would’ve told you eventually and I’m glad you know.”Keeps me from pretending I’m not in pain.
“Why haven’t you gotten meds for it?” He surprises me by asking. “I’ve only seen you take Advil.”
A bicycle rings past us. A man in a leotard runs across.
And there’s fresh bread somewhere.
“I have some but,” my chest falls. “I can’t afford the refills.”
“It’s not covered by OHIP?”
The Ontario Health Insurance Plan.Most Canadian citizens—if not, all—have it. It covers many medications, checkups, hospital visits, eye exams, etc. It should make life easier.
“I was never properly diagnosed.” Dean pulls me by the wrist. I’m pulled into him. Our hands on his chest, my breath mingled with his. Comfortable noise surrounds us. “My symptoms were never consistent with one kind of migraine. My doctor signed it off as chronic migraines, but it doesn’t cover the drugs that could truly help. I’ve gotten some off-brand, even tried home remedies, and tied a scarf as tightly as possible around my head.” I give him a tight smile. “It is what it is.”
“It shouldn’t be.” Dean tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t settle for simple answers, Nova. Look for more because there’s always a way around it. If you can’t find it, then I will.”
He waits a moment before asking, “Is this why you quit editing?”
Dean’s observant.
“Yes,” I sigh. “I loved the idea of being an editor at UofT, but then the migraines hit hard and rotting in bed seemed lovely.”
“What was the breaking point?” He asks, curious.
I think back to my last year. I’ll never forget the way words blurred on my exam paper. I couldn’t understand a single letter. “My final year,” I answer. “But thankfully I had the skills of a floral fairy, you know? Otherwise, how else would I have met you?”
“I would’ve found you,” he hums under his breath. “You’d be working somewhere you love—a bookstore, perhaps—and I’d walk in andsee you. I wouldn’t approach you and you wouldn’t notice me, but I’d come every weekend to catch a glimpse of you. One day you’d see me and ask if I need help finding anything, I’d say yes. You’d take me to the romance section, then I’d ask if you have recommendations. You’d think it’s for my girlfriend, but it would be for you. Eventually, I’d muster the courage to ask you on a date.”
My abdomen blooms with hot rays of sunshine. My throat can’t swallow the idea that Dean’s thought about this more than I have.
