Page 35 of Sweeter Than Fiction

Don wanting to help out is completely different.

And as independent as I am, I kind of like it.

Don’t get used to it, Abby.

“Abs, do you want some tea? Let’s see if you can keep anything down.”

“Sure. Tea sounds great.”

I wrap myself up in the blankets and get cozy once again, only uncovering my arms when Don brings me the steaming mug.

“Let’s hope you can keep this down,” he says.

“Here’s hoping,” I say, doing a mock cheers and taking a small sip. “By the way, thank you for holding my hair back. That probably wasn’t very glamorous.”

“I don’t give a fuck about glamorous.”

“Don, I have to disagree. I’ve seen your dates,” I tease.

He smiles, “And look how well all of them have turned out.”

Realizing what time it must be, I say, “I know you want to take care of me, but don’t you have to get to work?”

“Well, Abs, it’s Saturday.”

“Holy shit, I’ve lost a whole day.” I laugh, which sends me into a coughing spell.

When I’ve finally calmed down, Don says, “Hey, Abby?”

“Yes, Donald?”

He looks a little taken aback. “Abby, my full name is Donovan.”

“Really?”

He nods.

“Learn something new every day.”

He laughs. “Anyway, Abigail.” He pauses to see if I’m going to correct him.

“I’ve got nothing. Abby can’t be short for much.” I sniffle. “Go ahead.”

“What’s the deal with your family?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, last night, when you were throwing up again, I asked if you wanted me to call anyone—like your parents. You very adamantly told me absolutely not.”

I must have been half-asleep because I don’t remember any of that.

But my reaction doesn’t surprise me.

“Oh,” I say.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Usually, I don’t talk about my family much. They are always a bit of a sore subject. But there’s something inside me that actually wants to share with Don.

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