Page 74 of That First Date

We cleaned up the dinner dishes from what was probably the most delicious stuffed shells I’ve ever had. Despite my stomach, I had to eat them.

We’re getting ready to serve apple crisp when my stomach decides to stab me from the inside. The pain causes me to curl over myself in the kitchen. I rest a hand on the counter to steady myself, my other hand clutching my stomach as if that will actually ease some of the pain.

Cathy gasps from the other side of the kitchen. “Avery! Are you alright?”

“I…”

“Babe.” Marc's calm tone brings me back to reality. “What’s wrong?”

“My stomach. Fuck. It hurts so bad.” Pain shoots through my stomach again. Sending a wave of nausea through me. “I’m sorry for my language, but I think I’m going to be sick.”

Cathy moves quickly to the fridge to grab a bottle of water for me before placing it down in front of me. One look at the bottle and thinking about drinking that right now makes me feel even sicker.

“Are you okay, honey?” she asks. “What can we do?”

“I-I’m fine.” At the same time the words leave my mouth, my stomach twists again. Causing me to curl over my legs on the floor.

Marc doesn’t waste a second before he scoops me up in his arms as if I weigh less than a pound. “I’m sorry, Bill,” he shouts over his shoulder as he carries me through the living room.

“Don’t be. Please let us know if you need anything.”

“Feel better, Avery,” Cathy adds, her voice carrying through the rooms.

We both hear the front door close shut at the same time he places me on the ground in his master bathroom ensuite. He places me down carefully, resting on the wall that’s closest to the toilet as if I’m going to be sick any second.

“Marc. I’m fine,” I choke out with pain laced in my tone. Bringing my legs to my chest, I’m feeling incredibly vulnerable right now.

“You’re not.” He opens a closet in the bathroom and pulls out a washcloth before he runs it under cold water. He crouches down beside me on the floor to run it across my forehead. “What can I do?”

I stare up at him, blinking in shock. No one other than my mother has ever taken care of me when I was sick. I mean… It's beenyearssince I’ve been sick. I’m not sure what’s come over me.

“You don’t need to do this.”

“Avery, for once in your life, shut up,” he snaps at me. My mouth hangs open and tears sting my eyes. “I mean that in the nicest way possible of course,” he adds.

“It’s just… I’m just fine,” I assure him.

Despite every part of my bodynotfeeling fine.

“Let me take care of you.”

“Why? I don’t want you to see me get sick. Just call Fred to come get me. He apparently has some lightning speed on his car and can get places faster than anyone else in the city. He can take me home before I retch all over this bathroom.”

He swipes the washcloth over my forehead again, offering me a soft smile. Brushing the hair that’s fallen into my face out of the way with his knuckles. “Because whether you want to believe it or not, I care about you.”

I give him a displeased scoff. “What if I’m contagious?”

“Then it looks like I’ll be getting sick too.”

“Did you bump your head or something?”

“Avery.” He covers my lips with his pointer finger. “Stop talking.”

I clamp my lips down together, succumbing to his demands.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re going to spend the night here.”

I open my mouth to protest.

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