left, but I can’t stop. The nausea laps at my stomach, not content until I’m drained dry.
“Honestly, I’m okay. You can go whenever…” My spiel is short-lived, however.
The entire time I’m throwing up my guts, Roman never leaves my side. He rubs my back and holds back my snarled hair. If I wasn’t on the cusp of blacking out, I would thank him for being so nice.
“Lola, don’t pass out. Stay awake.”
“So tired,” I mumble, my eyes slipping shut.
He circles my back before gently encouraging me to lift my head from the bowl. I’m too exhausted to fight him. “You’ll be all right.”
With eyes still sealed shut, I’m blind, trusting him completely. My head lolls to the side, but Roman places his palm against my cheek for support. I attempt to pull away, but my efforts are futile. I have no strength left.
“Why are you doing this?” It’s the second time I’ve asked him, but this time, I want the truth.
His touch wavers against my face, the first sign of nerves. “Because it’s—”
“If you say it’s your job, I swear to god, I’ll scream.” That’s a slight exaggeration, but I’ve made my point.
When he doesn’t speak, I force an eye to half-mast, ensuring he’s heard me, and I didn’t say those words in my head.
He swallows, a pain slashing at his very core. “I…I lost someone very close to me.” If I could gasp, I would have. “Ever since then, I just”—he fumbles over his words—“you remind me of her. That’s not the reason I’m helping you, I just…”
I’ve never seen Roman tongue-tied, but that can wait because just who is this person he lost? Flashes of his tattoo flicker before me. Could it be Eleanor? It makes sense. But the next question is, who is Eleanor?
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” I open my mouth, poised with a thousand other questions, but he stops me. “How are you feeling?” he asks, clearly wanting to drop the topic.
“Better,” I confess, pushing the hair from my brow. Roman almost looks relieved.
He stands wearily, and although he wasn’t throwing up, he was with me every shudder of the way. Running both hands through his hair, he opens the medicine cabinet. “Want some Pepto-Bismol? It’ll help settle your stomach.”
I’m happy to take anything if it’ll help.
I nod, extending my palm. He passes me the bottle. I’m still a little wobbly, so I don’t attempt to rise. I must learn how to crawl before I walk.
Roman brushes his teeth, leaving me to recoup, which I appreciate. I watch with interest as he rinses out his mouth before reaching into the medicine cabinet and shaking out two pills from a bottle. My curiosity is piqued. If I wasn’t so fatigued, I’d ask what they’re for.
When he’s done, he turns, his face a cluster of worry. I feel terrible for placing that concern there. “Just give me a few minutes, and we can go back.”
He narrows his eyes. “Go back where?”
“To Strawberry Fields.” I’m not expecting to stay another night, as I’m sure I’ve outstayed my welcome.
“You want to go?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure you want your bed back.”
He shakes his head firmly. “Nonsense. You can stay here. You’re in no state to travel.”
The prospect of staying another night is appealing, but I couldn’t allow him to forfeit his bed for another night. “I’ll take the couch.”
He scoffs, offended. “You’ll do no such thing. Your clothes are in the bedroom. I’ll grab them for you.”
“Thanks.” I’m speechless. His kindness knows no bounds.
Once he’s out the door, I take a couple of deep breaths and endeavor to stand. After attempt number five, I’ve risen to semi-full height as I lean slouched against the tiled wall.
Roman reenters, his eyes widening when he sees me struggling. “Let me help you.”
“You’ve done enough.” Under this bravado, however, I’m thankful for the assistance as I’m seconds from falling back down. I lean against him, placing my palm to the wall to gain my balance. The room stops spinning after two minutes.
“I’m okay,” I affirm, steadying my breathing. He lets me go but has both hands out in front of him, ready if I fall. “I really want to take a shower.”
He rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. I don’t understand why until I realize what I’ve just said. “Oh my god, no, that was not me hinting for you to help! I think you’ve seen enough.”
“I can help, I mean, I’m a doctor…but I…” He clamps his lips