Hitched (17 page)

Last night he cooked for me. I enjoyed every bite. I didn't feel the stomach cramps until this morning. Didn't know evil had taken root in my gut until it was too late to get to my own house, my own bed, my own bathroom, before it happened.

There are certain tests every relationship faces as it matures, but I am not ready for the one we're about to face.

This could be the end for us. I glare at myself in the mirror, hoping Sebastian doesn't wake up before I've figured out how to handle this disaster.

But before I can come up with a plan that would save us, a wave of nausea hits again, and I scramble to the toilet.

Unfortunately, I'm too late.

Vomit splatters everywhere. I can feel it in my hair, on my feet, the stink rising like something dead and rotting.

And I can't stop.

Then there's the knock on the door.

"You okay, darling?"

I would say yes, would tell him to go away, but as I open my mouth another wave of noxious sludge pours out of me.

The doorknob turns.

He walks in.

He's naked. We're both naked from the night before, but I'm the only one covered in last night's dinner.

Chicken marsala, if you were wondering. It's not nearly as good coming back up.

"Oh, honey, you look—"

I glare at him and dare him to finish the sentence.

He cocks his head. "Sick. You look sick. Since we ate the same thing yesterday, I'm guessing stomach flu. Let's clean you up and get you back to bed. Doctor's orders."

And my humiliation begins. I shower quickly, with his aid, and he dries me and wraps me up in blankets then brings me a bucket to puke into and seltzer water to help calm my stomach.

Then he cleans up the bathroom.

Now, I realize that he's a doctor and has likely seen worse. And that this is something everyone goes through at some point in his or her life. And that every relationship, if it lasts long enough, will be faced with the “in sickness” part of the vows—though I don't recall if we said that during our quickie wedding—but I'm not quite prepared to be an invalid in his presence. It's like the sexy has sloughed off my body revealing a scaly monster hiding underneath. And it smells like vomit.

Sebastian, however, doesn't bat an eye. For two days during the worst stomach flu of my life, he waits on me, caters to my every unspoken whim, and cleans up every trace of sick I leave behind.

And it makes my heart melt. Any man who can do that and still wants to be with you when it's all over is truly a keeper.

I didn't die.

That's the main thing, right? That I'm still alive and still with Sebastian. We survived the worst I could throw at us. Or throw up on us, as the case may be.

Now let's just put those last few days behind us and never speak of them again, okay? Great.

Moving on.

I'm browsing through Sebastian's reading selection while he pours us both coffee, but his choice in literature is… narrow. "Medical journals and historical military novels? Really? That's it?"

He chuckles. "It's enough. And I do have one Sherlock Holmes book somewhere around here."

I raise an eyebrow and accept the coffee. "One?"

"It's a collection, so it counts as more."

"You need to expand your literary tastes," I tell him as I scan one of his medical books.

"I think my literary tastes are fine as they are."

I put the book back and turn to him. "This could compromise the integrity of our relationship if this isn't handled quickly. An intervention is in order."

He kisses my forehead fondly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Let's go to a bookstore," I suggest.

"A bookstore?"

"Yeah, you know, one of those big buildings where they keep all the books, but you have to pay if you want to leave with them. I know they're a bit archaic in our dot-com world, but surely Vegas still has one or two if we look hard enough."

He grins. "I'm sure there are. That sounds like fun."

I pull out my phone and Google bookstores. Because I was serious about the dot-com world. I love reading but can't remember the last time I went to an actual brick and mortar bookstore.

"We have a few promising choices," I tell him. "There's a Barnes & Noble on West Charleston… that would be a predictable choice."

"Entirely too predictable," he says.

"Oh, these look more exciting. How about Amber Unicorn Books on Decatur, or Dead Poet Bookstore on Rainbow Boulevard? I wonder if we'll spot any actual unicorns?"

"Or dead poets," he says.

"Or those. So, what's your vote? Dead poets or the rare unicorn?"

I follow him to the kitchen and sit on a stool as he rinses our now-empty coffee cups out. "I'm going to have to cast my vote with the Dead Poets."

I jump up off the stool, then immediately regret it as my stomach is still a bit wibbly-wobbly from the days that shall not be spoken of. "I knew you'd pick that one.
Dead Poet's Society
is your favorite movie."

"Indeed!"

We leave the house in under ten minutes and arrive at a charming used and rare bookstore that is larger than I expected. While a bit dusty, it has the feel of a place that has hosted many deep conversations and insightful meanderings through classic literature.

I love it instantly.

Dotted through the store are nooks for reading, clusters of chairs and couches for group meetings, and even a chess board for those who want to kill some time honing their strategy skills.

I run my hands over the old leather-bound books and sigh, breathing in the smell of paper and ink. "I should come to bookstores more often. I forgot how much I enjoy them."

Sebastian takes out his phone and snaps a picture of me, then smiles. "You look radiant among the classics, Ms. Michaels."

After browsing the titles for over an hour and purchasing a few to take home, I challenge Sebastian to a game of chess.

"Right now?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Obviously." I sit in one chair, and he sits down across from me, dropping our bag of books next to him.

"I have to warn you, I'm quite good," he says.

"And I should warn you, I'm not bad myself."

"Very well then," he gestures gallantly, "ladies first."

The game is a quiet one, each of us fiercely concentrating as we attempt to out maneuver each other.

When he takes my pawn, I pump my fist and wipe out his rook. But then he sneaks in and puts my queen in jeopardy, so I rethink my next move and am forced to go on the defensive.

We circle each other like alley cats. Each of us pushing the other into offensive or defensive, depending on the move.

His mind is keen, and he doesn't miss much as he watches me study the board. We are both down to a skeleton crew defending our kings. The game will be over in a few more moves.

I think I have him, that I've surely won, but at the last moment he sacrifices everything and manages to not only save his king but puts me in checkmate at the same time.

I look up at him and smile, because that move shows me something about him, something real and deep. It shows me that when he commits to something, he goes all in. He risks it all to win what he wants.

And somehow, for some reason, this man wants me.

Tate laughs at me, and I throw a dirty shirt at his face. "If you're not going to help, then go away."

We're in my bedroom, where I've packed and repacked for my weekend trip with Sebastian about ten times. The weeks have flown by, and now it's time to go meet his family and witness his uncle getting married. When Vi committed me to this, I didn't know how much would happen in the intervening weeks. My grandmother dying. Sebastian coming to Ohio. The forty-eight hours of ick that shall not be discussed.

Everything about our relationship feels so different now, so much more intimate, but still, I'm nervous as hell.

Tate tosses the shirt into the laundry hamper by my closet. "You're only going for a few days. You don't have to pack everything you own."

I assess my suitcase and realize he's right. I've packed almost everything. This is ridiculous. I'm a pro at packing. I can go weeks with just a backpack and some gum. In fact, I did just that in Europe the summer after graduating college. Best summer ever.

But now? I can't figure out which dress to pack for the actual wedding, let alone the dinner rehearsal, or what to wear when I actually arrive there and meet his family for the first time. We've talked a bit about his life growing up. I know he's close to his little sister, and his younger brother is more the black sheep of the family. I know he loves his parents. But I don't know what they're going to think of me. And it scares the shit out of me.

I hold up a blue dress and an off-white skirt suit. "Which one?"

"Depends, do you want to look like someone from the cast of Smurfs or an unmarried crazy cat lady?"

I look down at the choices and then scowl at him. "You have no taste."

He hops off the bed and crosses the room to my closet. In a few moments, he pulls out a tasteful lavender sleeveless dress with lace and pearls. "This one."

I fold it into my bag and find the shoes that match. After tossing all the extra clothes I won't need—including a heavy coat and boots, because where do I think I'm going? Sebastian said his parents live only an hour away. My bag is much lighter and more appropriate for a weekend away.

Just in time, too. The doorbell rings, and I know it's him.

"Will you get that and tell him I'll be right down?"

Tate leaves, and I quickly change into a pale yellow sundress with sandals and twist my hair into a braid.

Sebastian looks casually delicious at the bottom of the staircase as I come down, bag in hand.

"Hello there, darling. You look ravishing."

His voice melts me.

We kiss, and he takes my bag. "Ready to go?"

I nod, waving at Tate who's already flopped on the couch watching something on television. "Call me if you have any problems with the party this weekend," I tell him as I open the front door.

He looks up and smiles. "We got it covered. You go have fun."

***

It takes about an hour to get to his family's house, and during that time I grill Sebastian about everyone I'm going to meet. I don't want to make any social faux pas the first time I meet them.

He laughs at my nervousness and pats my hand. "You're going to be fine. They'll love you as much as I do."

I gulp. There's that word again. Love. We haven't actually said the words "I love you"—at least not since the night I can't remember—but he has casually tossed it out there, and it makes my heart beat too fast each time.

Do I love him? Is it possible to fall in love this fast? I know I care for him. I know I'm going to miss him dreadfully if this ends. But love? That's such a big word. Such a big commitment. It terrifies me. I've always seen love as something that takes from you the core of who you are. When you love someone, they have power over you. They can hurt you. They can control you, even if subtly. Everything changes, and I don't want that to happen to me.

I look over at Sebastian as he drives. His profile is strong, chiseled, his skin tanned, his eyes so very beautiful. Everything about this man is too good to be true. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. As it always inevitably does.

***

His family home takes my breath away.

Literally.

"
This
is where you grew up?" I ask as we pull onto the property.

"Yes. Home sweet home."

"Mansion sweet mansion, more like." I think about the small farmhouse I grew up in. It would fit in one of the bathrooms in this place, by the looks of it. "How big is it?"

As we drive down a long road to the front of the house, we pass a rectangular fountain spraying dancing water into the sky, lit up by multi-colored lights. The house itself curves around to either side, with large, oval floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere.

"The property is 40 acres, and the main house is almost twelve thousand square feet."

I'm not even sure how to visualize that many feet in my head, square or not. "Main house? There's more than one house?"

He nods as we get out of the car and grab our bags. "Yes, there are two guest houses in the back. My brother lives in one, but my sister chose to stay in the main house."

The moment we walk in I can see why his sister would want to stay here. The ornate double doors open wide to a cream entryway framed by cream and wrought iron stairways on either side.