car here and ride with me.”
“But my bag’s in my trunk,” I objected. “I think it would look worse if I stop to get a suitcase out of my car and then get in with you. I can drive myself.”
“This is all just a fucking mess. I wanted tonight to be perfect. I don’t know why I didn’t think . . . well, no one’s bothered with me for months. I guess the grieving widower moving on with his life is bigger news than I anticipated.” He looked grim.
My stomach was churning even more now, and the smell of the food in front of me made it worse. I could feel a burning in my throat, and nausea made me break out in a sweat.
“I need to go to the restroom,” I managed to mutter to Noah. “I’ll be right back.”
Barely aware of anything around me, I half-ran, half-stumbled to where I thought the bathrooms were. Of course, they were located just past the swinging door that led to the kitchen, and the food smell there was even worse. I pushed through the door marked WOMEN and made it to a toilet just in time to gag and toss up the little bit of food I’d been able to eat.
Once I felt like it was safe to stand up again, I lurched to the sink and ran cold water over my wrists before I pulled out a bunch of paper towels from the dispenser. I soaked a few and pressed them to my forehead. When I opened my eyes, I looked into the mirror and realized someone was standing behind me, gawking.
Shit. How long had she been in here? I tried to smile at her. “Hey. Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was in here.”
“Uh, yeah.” She was digging in her purse for something, and I had a feeling I knew what it was. She wanted a picture of Noah Spencer’s girlfriend who’d just puked up her guts in the restaurant bathroom. Lovely.
“Listen,” I blurted out. “You probably don’t want to get too close. I think I have a virus or something. I’m not feeling well at all. So . . . yeah, you should just go.”
She had the audacity to look disappointed. “Aren’t you with Noah Spencer? Weren’t you sitting at the table with him?”
“Yeah, he’s a friend of mine.” The phrase was so familiar from months of repeating it to people that it flowed automatically off my tongue. “And he’s probably wondering what’s going on, so I’m going to go.”
I pushed open the door and tried to walk back to the table with a modicum of dignity, well aware that everyone was staring. My face was probably pale, beaded with sweat, and I was shaking. My hair hung limply around shoulders.
“Baby, are you okay?” Noah jumped to his feet, worry etched on his face. “What happened? Are you feeling sick?”
I gave my head a little shake. “I just want to get out of here, okay? Please? I don’t feel well, and I can’t stand to be here anymore. Please, Noah, just take me away.”
He nodded, his forehead drawn together. “Of course.” He slid his arm around me and pressed me to his chest, shielding me from everyone’s eyes. I heard him speaking to the waiter, something about the check, and then he was guiding me forward and out of the restaurant.
The moment we stepped outside, we were surrounded by flashes. I kept my eyes squeezed tightly closed and allowed Noah to guide me to his car. He helped me into the passenger seat, and then seconds later, he was behind the wheel, backing out, muttering curses at photographers trying to snap a picture of us and nearly getting run over in the process. I slumped in the seat, shielding my face with my hands.
“My bag—my car—” I began.
“Fuck the bag and the car. You can sleep naked or in one of my shirts. I have toothbrushes there. And I’ll have someone come get your car later tonight or tomorrow morning. You’re in no shape to drive, baby. I wasn’t going to let you put yourself in danger because we’re so damn worried about what people might think.”
I nodded, but I didn’t say anything else as Noah drove home, speeding along the backroads.
When we pulled into his drive, he let out a breath. “No one’s here. Which is good, because if they were, I’d have called the sheriff and had their asses arrested for trespassing.” He dropped his head