Page 79 of Forgive Me For I Have Sinned

"You didn't have to take the Bentley."

"It's your favorite. Why not. Do you like specific colors?"

"I like that one."

"You don't want a new one?"

She shakes her head. "No, I like that one because it reminds me of you and the first time I drove it."

"Got it."

I slide my hand in hers, letting that tingling feeling over me, touching her hand in mine. "I'll transfer it in your name. It's yours."

"But––"

"Don't. I want to give it to you."

"It's expensive."

"I can afford it."

"Cocky much."

"You should be proud; your man is loaded. I got bank."

She snorts. "Oh, God. I am proud, but not because you have money."

"It's because I have a huge dick. You can't live without it."

She shoves me, and I laugh, but her face suddenly goes white, and I panic.

"Veronica!"

She holds her stomach and grimaces. "I think I'm going to be sick." Her face turns an ashen color, and I stop on the side of the road. She undoes her seat belt and opens the door and starts to vomit.

"Fuck."

I jump out of the car, and she's retching on the side of the road. I hold her hair back. "It's okay, baby," I say softly. "Get it out. Is it something you ate?"

Her eyes are watery from the effort, but she manages not to get any on her clothes. "I don't feel well," she sputters.

“Can you make it if I drive to the gas station? I can get you some crackers and water."

She nods.

After getting Veronica some water and crackers, I call the doctor so he can take a look at her at the house.

"I'm fine, Alaric."

I'm not taking any chances with her. Maybe she caught something at school or at work. She worked the night shift, and the guys told me she threw the trash out back. Those days are over for her. I'm not going to have my girl work in a restaurant when she could be in our bed watching her favorite horror flick after a day at the spa.

I kiss the top of her hand. "I want to make sure you're okay. I love you."

She looked pale when her body was doubled over, half hanging out, gripping the car door, and the sounds of her vomiting. Her face went white like chalk, but it regained some of its natural color after she ate the crackers and drank some water.

"I'm okay. Maybe it was something I ate," she says with a wane smile.

But she hasn't eaten much. I noticed that these past couple of days, she has left food on her plate, and when I ask if she is hungry or wants me to take her to dinner, she refuses or says she already ate.

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