the now. As I blink countless times, my murky brain attempts to decipher where I am. But my surroundings are unfamiliar. I know I’m face-first in a toilet bowl, but whose toilet bowl?
“That’s it.” I would know that voice from any corner of the globe. Roman rubs my back, the motion surprisingly soothing.
I will my breathing to slow and take a moment to dig through the fog. The last thing I remember is passing out on my bedroom floor.
“Lola, can you hear me?” His troubled voice pulls me closer to this plane, and the fog begins to clear.
I nod, too afraid to speak.
“You’re in my house. Actually, you’re in my bathroom. I got your text message and found you passed out on your bedroom floor. Do you think you can lift your head? I assure you there are a lot nicer things to see in here.”
His quip has me laughing, but groaning a second later when my head feels like it’s on the verge of exploding. “Ugh, screw you.”
“Sorry.” He chuckles, rubbing between my shoulder blades.
When I think I can face the land of the living, I wearily raise my head and almost celebrate when the room stops spinning. My hair hangs limply around my face, and my mouth feels drier than the Sahara Desert.
“Here.” Roman passes me a glass of water, and I gulp it down. My stomach gurgles, but I clamp my lips shut, insistent on keeping it down. “Do you want to lie down?”
I nod, positive I can move without throwing up.
Roman gently cups my elbow and helps me stand. My legs feel like jelly, but I don’t allow that to discourage me.
We take two small steps before I tremble. “I’ve got you, and I won’t let you go,” Roman assures, wrapping his arm around me. His strength pacifies my weakness, and I slouch against him, grateful for his support.
We take baby steps, but eventually, we make it out into the living room.
A thought suddenly occurs. “I am so sorry I dragged you from your b-bed to come rescue my sorry ass.” He’s in dark gray sweats and a white T-shirt. Odds are I interrupted his sleep.
“Don’t even mention it,” he quickly replies, tightening his hold around me. “I didn’t have far to go.”
We can tackle the matter of his address later because the room begins to spin again. “Please don’t throw up. I just had the carpets steam cleaned.” His humor has my sickness subsiding, and we make it through the room unscathed.
He switches on the light, showcasing a striking bedroom. A huge bed draped with black silk sits dead center with a nightstand on each side. A colorful abstract painting sits above the wooden headboard, giving the elegant room a modern feel.
We sway over to the bed where Roman pulls back the covers with one hand. “Here. Lie down.”
I do as he says because those silk sheets look too inviting not to.
I feel like I’m lying among clouds as I settle on the mattress with a sigh. Roman sits on the edge, watching me. I peer up at him, the reality of where I am sinking in—the material beneath me ingrained with his aroma. I instantly feel a blanket of sleep envelop me.
“Thank you. For everything.” If I listed all the things I’m thankful for, we’d be here all night.
Roman nods. “There’s no need to thank me. I’m sorry you fell ill.”
“Not your fault. It’s all part of the d-deal.” I suppress a deep breath, wishing I purged up my stammer.
“Get some rest.” Roman sweeps the hair from my brow.
When he goes to stand, I latch on to his wrist. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to crash on the sofa.”
Oh, right. Of course, he is. That’s what a gentleman does.
I let him go, smiling bashfully. “Not only did I disturb your sleep, but now, I’ve stolen your bed too. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” I yawn, my eyes drooping shut.
Caught between reality and the dream world, I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. So when I hear Roman whisper, “You already have,” I can’t help but slip into a deeper slumber at total and complete peace.
I only wake because my stiff muscles protest. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep. The fact my eyes aren’t stinging is a sure sign I’ve slept more than three hours.
The bathroom light creeps in through the sliver of the ajar doorway. It takes me a moment to adjust to the near dark, but when