Page 55 of Wish You Would

“I like that idea. You can wear your new fur coat with a sexy pair of heels. The guys won’t know what’s coming.”

Daisy sticks around for another hour or so, and by the time I hug her goodbye and close the door behind her, I barely have the energy to wash my face or change into my pajamas before crashing into bed and falling asleep in seconds.

The first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is expel everything in my stomach, bent over the toilet bowl. I crawl back into bed and try to sleep it off. I’ll be over it by lunch.

When I wakeup a few hours later, I’m feeling much better, but I do feel a sense of guilt for sleeping away a beautiful, sunny morning. I plan on a walk along the beach to try to salvage what’s left of the day.

I can hear Holden in the kitchen but decide to wait until I hear him leave the house before coming out of my bedroom. I groan in frustration when I see the mug with the tea bag on the counter. I had planned on talking to him today, to try to clear the air, but I wasn’t feeling up to it. First, a bit of food and some fresh air. Then I can figure out what I want to say to him.

How can I fix this? How can I get us back to the way things were before we had sex?

It doesn’t take me long to walk to White Harbor beach, and once I make it a little further down the boardwalk, I head straight to a food truck and order myself three tacos. Then I find a seat at a bench in the shade to eat my lunch.

The beach is busy with people, the air infused with salt and suntan lotion. It smells like the ocean. It smells like home.

After I inhale the tacos, I walk towards the grocery store to get a few things: chicken, asparagus, lettuce for a salad, bread for the morning. The strawberries look too good to pass up, so I throw a clamshell in my cart too. I wander through aisles, one by one, grabbing things from the shelves. When I pass the bakery, my eyes catch on an apple pie that I bet Holden would love, so I grab one of those and then a pint of vanilla ice cream to go with it.

By the time I get to the cashier, my cart is full. It’s only after a woman with light mauve hair and a name tag that reads “Carla” bags my groceries that I remember I walked here and now I have to carry the six plastic bags home.

I consider booking an Uber to come pick me up but decide I can handle it. I head outside, juggling the heavy bags on both arms, the sun even brighter than when I got to the store.

I walk as far as the beach boardwalk when a wave of nausea rolls through my stomach. I set the bags down on a nearby bench, my skin erupting in a cold sweat. I feel awful. I thought I was better after that big sleep, but now I’m achy, exhausted, and sick to my stomach.

The smart thing to do would be to sit in the shade and rest for a few minutes, but all I want to do is get home and get into bed. So, I gather the bags back off the bench and start for home.

I just need to sleep. Charlotte at work had the flu lastweek, I must have caught it from her.

I’m walking as quickly as I can along the crowded boardwalk, which isn’t quick at all, when I feel lightheaded and my vision blurs. The next thing I know, I feel someone knock my shoulder—hard—and one of the bags around my forearm slides to the pavement.

Oof. I crouch down to pick up a few of the groceries that have tumbled out of the bag. A woman kneels down to help me as my stomach turns and bile inches up my throat.

“You okay, honey?” she asks, handing me an orange.

“Thank you, I’m okay,” I reply, reaching for a yellow pepper on the pavement. “I appreciate the help—”

“Briar?”

My heart stops beating in my chest because I know that voice. I hear it in my dreams at night.

“Briar,” Holden repeats when I don’t respond the first time. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”

He’s kneeling down beside me, a hand on my arm. “Holden. It’s fine. I’m okay.” I struggle to slip the bags back onto my forearms.

I look at Holden for the first time, and it makes me even more lightheaded. He’s shirtless, with a sheen of sweat over his tanned skin. His brown hair is damp with sweat and when his deep green eyes meet mine, I see the concern on his face.

He shakes his head. “I’ve got this, Briar.”

“I can handle it.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, but when I’m around, you don’t have to.”

He takes the bags from me as my stomach flips and flops. I’m not sure if it’s from the flu or from Holden being commanding and protective over me. This version of him is a level of hot I’m not used to.

“What were you doing anyways? Why didn’t you call me? I would have picked you up.”

“I, um…” I swallow, feeling completely off-balance. I am hot and sticky and sick, and this is the first time I’ve talked to Holden in weeks. “I wasn’t expecting on buying the whole store. I guess I got carried away. Sorry to ruin your run.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

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