Page 66 of Sweeter Than Fiction

Kneeling next to the couch, I push her hair out of her face. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Try me,” I prompt. “Is it your stomach? Did you have dairy?”

She shakes her head. “No. Not my stomach.”

“You’re freaking me out here, beautiful.”

She pauses a moment more as if deciding if she really wants to tell me. “I feel like my uterus is trying to kill me from the inside out.”

The lightbulb in my head comes on. “Ohhhh. It’s that kind of not feeling well.”

This time, she nods.

“Why would I not want to know that?”

“Because most guys think it’s gross.”

Just another example of how all the men that Abby has dated have been absolutely awful and give the rest of us good guys a bad name.

“Abby, I don’t think it’s gross... It’s natural.”

“I have endometriosis, too. Which makes things much, much worse.”

“What exactly does that mean?” I ask.

“I won’t bore you with the medical jargon. But pretty much, it’s just another way my body is revolting against me. And it’s painful.”

I make a mental note to look up more details on that later, but right now, I just want to take care of her.

“What can I do, Abs?”

“I’ll be alright. You being here helps.”

She reaches out from under the covers to hold my hand.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

That gets me another nod.

“What sounds good?”

She thinks for a moment. “Something comforting.”

“Something like pasta? Something like fried chicken? Or something sweet?’

“Yes.” She answers which gets a laugh out of me.

“Okay, let me see what I can do.”

Half an hour later, I have ordered us enough food to make a literal buffet. I have everything from sushi to fried chicken to three different kinds of pasta. Oh, and let’s not forget the dessert sampler platter I ordered from a local bakery.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Abby says as she goes straight for a piece of fudge-covered cake.

“Miss Jones, I think you know exactly where to start.”

She giggles. “Must. Have. Chocolate.”

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