in one of the toilets. I wet paper towels and wiped my face and tried to power through it, but it was no use. This was bad. It almost felt like I had the flu, but maybe I was just in turmoil over Easton. When I walked out of the restroom, Deanna was about to head in. She touched me on the arm and frowned.
“Hey, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
“I think I might be coming down with something.”
“Talk to George. He’ll let you go home early.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I need to leave.”
After speaking with George, I slipped out of the office and drove home, tears sliding down my face. I might have blown this entire thing out of proportion. Then again, there was also a chance of a new woman in Easton’s life, and I’d allowed myself to fall for him against my better judgment.
Once I reached my apartment, a call came through on my cellphone, and my heart leapt into my throat. Maybe it was him. But when I checked my cell, it was Charlotte. Not in the mood to talk, I let it go to voicemail. About twenty seconds later, my phone rang, and it was Charlotte again, but I hit the silence button and rushed to the bathroom where I vomited for the second time.
A heaviness washed over me, and I felt drained and tired and like the only solution to my problems was to go to bed. I knew it was wrong to allow myself to get this upset and worked up over what happened, but I didn’t care anymore. I couldn’t change my feelings, but I could drown them out with sleep. Once my face hit the pillow, everything went black.
***
I woke up to morning light peeking through the curtains, and I glanced over at my clock to find it was six-fifty-nine, and in one more minute, my alarm would go off, alerting me to get up for work. How had I slept that long? I did a quick mental calculation and figured out that I’d slept thirteen hours, but with all that sleep, I felt like an eighteen-wheeler had run me over. I sat up in bed, a wave of nausea hitting me as I turned off my alarm before it went off.
This was not just about inner turmoil. I was definitely sick. I picked up my cell phone and three missed calls flashed across the screen from Charlotte and four from Easton. There were texts from both of them. The first was from Charlotte. Call me when you get this. And then another. Hey, is everything okay?
I clicked on the texts from Easton. Heard you weren’t feeling well. Give me a call when you get the chance. A few hours later he’d sent a follow-up text. We need to talk. Please call me.
Ugh. My head hurt, and I didn’t feel like talking at all. He probably figured out that everyone in the office was gossiping about him and Miss Hotsy-totsy, and he wanted to explain, but I was too sick to talk about it right now. After a night of sleep, I’d come to the conclusion that whatever happened was most likely innocent, but I was more upset with myself than with him. He was a good guy, and he’d told me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. If he meant it, he wouldn’t go on a date. It just didn’t make sense.
The bigger issue was that I’d lost my mind yesterday and allowed myself to go through trauma when I should have been more circumspect. But then again, who wouldn’t have felt hurt in a situation like that? Maybe this was a wake-up call, and I needed to heed it. Easton had always had the ability to stir up women’s emotions until it seemed as if they were the crazy ones, but I would not allow myself to succumb to that rollercoaster ride.
Being alone and single was better than that.
My head hit the pillow, and I kept telling myself I’d get up in a minute, but I fell asleep before that happened. The next thing I knew, my phone dinged with another text and I sat up and looked at the clock. It was eight in the morning. I wiped a hand over my face. There was no way I was going to make it in today. The text was from Easton, but I didn’t click on it yet.
Eight o’clock was my start time,