"I dated a guy for three months a few years ago. I liked him, and I thought he liked me too, but when he broke up with me, you know what he said?"

I shook my head.

"'I wasted three months, and you didn't even recommend me to anyone. What was the point of this?'" She shook her head at the memory. "I was falling for him, and he was just biding his time until I gave him an in, which was bad enough. But when I met him, he said he was a DJ, not a model."

"What a fucking asshole." How dumb were the men in modeling?

"He was," she agreed easily. "But he was also a lesson learned."

"'Men are assholes,' was that the lesson?"

She threw her head back and laughed, still chewing her eggs. "Obviously, but that's a gimme. I learned to listen to a man's actions more than his words."

I heard her words, and I understood. "Eat up," I told her with a smile.

"You're bossy," she shot back.

"It's because I'm the boss." I tapped the table near her plate. "Unless you want me to whip up some oatmeal?"

She laughed again, and it was such a sweet sound, and the fact that I just thought that told me I was in more trouble than I realized.

13ROB

Why did I do this to myself?

I asked myself that question at least five hundred times since yesterday afternoon, when a nasty bout of nausea woke me from a midday nap. I nibbled on crackers and threw back ginger ale like it was shots of tequila on my first shoot in Mexico, but nothing worked. I was full of carbs and carbonation, but I still felt sick. Nothing helped.

And then the headache started, intense and pounding, so bad that my vision blurred as I stumbled down the stairs and curled up on the sofa, where I stayed all afternoon and into the evening. I only got up to go to the bathroom and to keep myself hydrated in between trips to empty my already empty stomach. I was hot and then cold, sweaty and then shivering, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

I had never felt so awful in all my life. Not even the flu that had taken me down junior year of high school was this bad, and when the next morning came and went, and the sickness persisted, I started to get scared.

“Phone,” I groaned, trying to sit up several times before I succeeded. My gaze scanned the living room and what I couldsee of the kitchen counter in search of my phone. “Dammit.” It wasn’t anywhere I could see, and now that I thought about it, I hadn’t heard it ring since sometime yesterday.

My eyes slid shut as I replayed my steps from yesterday before my nap. I had lunch with Hailey and Torey and rushed home in time to make a video call with a new sustainable makeup company that was interested in a social media partnership. I remember tossing my keys in the bowl on the table beside the door before rushing upstairs to freshen up for the video call. “And fighting to disentangle from my handbag.” It was upstairs, which in my current state might as well be the top of Everest.

I sank back against the sofa with a half-sigh, half-grunt noise that would’ve scared any pets if I’d gotten around to getting one yet. With nothing else to do, I slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep. I didn’t know how long it lasted, but the next thing I knew, a loud pounding interrupted my peace.

I gasped and sat up immediately—too fast, it turned out—and I was instantly dizzy. The knocking continued, and I reached for the glass of water on the table, feeling just how dehydrated I was as soon as the liquid hit my tongue. “Hang on!” I shouted, hoping whoever it was had heard me and stopped the damn knocking.

It stopped, and my whole body relaxed enough that I could sit up. I took my time as I planted my feet on the floor and pushed until I stood. “Okay, feeling good,” I said to encourage myself. With each step, I felt better, and I walked a little faster. Too fast, and I slowed just as I reached the door.

“Rob, are you okay?” Levi’s voice sounded on the other side of the door, heavy with worry.

I opened the door quickly and sucked in a breath at the sight of him. His red hair looked as if he’d run his fingers through it ahundred times. He looked like he hadn’t slept well, and his skin was paler than usual. “Levi? What are you doing here?”

He let out a harsh sound that might have been a laugh but could’ve been a scoff.

Right. “Oh, last night’s shift, of course!” I stepped back and waved him inside just as another wave of nausea hit. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply until it passed. “Sorry. I should’ve called, but I hadn’t planned on sleeping through the night. I’ve just been…not good.”

“I don’t give a shit about that, Rob,” he growled. “Hailey covered last night and said she would tonight too. You haven’t been answering your damn phone.”

I leaned against the wall and let out a heavy sigh. “I, uh, I don’t know where I left it, and I just didn’t have the energy to go back upstairs.”

His brows furrowed angrily, and then he walked away—but not through the front door. Oh no, he stalked straight through my living room and up the stairs.

I tried to follow him, but I only got as far as the living room, where I reclaimed my spot on the sofa, wondering if he was really so upset that I’d missed a shift at the bar. The minute he came back downstairs, I began to talk. “Look, I really am sorry about leaving you short last night. That’s not how I operate.”

“I don’t care about the damn shift, Rob!” He handed me the phone with one hand and the charger in the other. “You weren’t answering my calls, and I thought…” He sighed and dropped down beside me on the sofa. “I thought something happened to you.”