The scent of perspiration, roasted beef, and expensive cologne still clung to my jacket, and it turned my stomach all over again.
When it was over, I was shaking so hard I nearly overbalanced.I sat back on my heels, breathing slowly, carefully, deliberately.In through my nose.Out through my mouth.Repeat.And again.
It was a well-maintained hotel restroom, but yeah.The combined smell of bleach and lavender air freshener sent another of those full-body shudders rippling through me.
Somehow, I had to pull myself together and get back out there.
I couldn’t picture it, though.Couldn’t visualize shaking my hair out of my eyes, straightening my tie, and retaking my seat next to Millicent.Couldn’t imagine chit-chatting about the book biz for another couple of hours while my head throbbed and white lights flashed behind my eyes like the aliens were landing.
There was no alternative.I’d already been in here too long.
I braced my hands on the cold porcelain, pushed up to my feet, and staggered out of the stall and over to the sink.I hung onto the counter edge, and turned the faucet with shaking fingers.Cold water blasted out.I cupped my hands and splashed my face a couple of times.I rinsed my mouth.Blinked at the mirror.
My dripping reflection stared back—pale, sweat-slick, jaw clenched tight, eyes red.A vein pulsed in my forehead.My pupils were uneven.
“You’re fine,” I said.
Well, no.I wasn’t.But it wasn’t the first time I’d had to work through a migraine attack.It wasn’t pleasant.It wouldn’t be pretty.But I could do this.
Could I?
The door opened behind me on a whoosh of voices and laughter floating from the banquet room.
Through the fleet of blind spots floating in front of my eyes, I could make out Finn’s reflection framed in the doorway.
Chapter Twelve
I closed my eyes.Willed him to go away.
“You okay?”
I opened my eyes.“Great.How are you?”
Finn’s footsteps echoed on the tile as he came up behind me.“It’s your head?”
Right.Because Finn had been through this with me before.And I truly couldn’t bear to think aboutthatFinn while I dealt with this Finn.
“I’m fine.I just need to take something.”
His brows, dark in contrast to his hair, drew together.“I thought youweretaking something?I thought you took monthly injections.”
“And yet you say I never tell you anything.”That was sheer bravado because I had to close my eyes and swallow another wave of nausea.I gripped the counter tightly, dipping my head and locking my jaw.My entire mission in life was reduced to not throwing up in front of Phineas Scott.
His hand landed lightly on my back, warm through my damp jacket.“What do you need, Keir?Talk to me.”
A shaky laugh escaped me.
“You need to lie down.Let me help you upstairs.”
I opened my eyes, stared at him in disbelief.“I can’tleave.How’s that going to look?”
His expression was one of complete non-comprehension.“It’s going to look like you’re not feeling well.Which ought to be obvious to anyone who sees you.Your face is grayer than your eyes.”
“Thank you for noticing…” I closed my eyes again, hung my head.He was right.I desperately wanted—needed—to lie down.
“Keiran.”Finn’s voice was still kind, but I recognized theThis is the law speaking!note.“You’re done for tonight.No one’s going to think less of you because you’re ill.”
“I’llthink less of me.”Besides, people wouldn’t think I was ill.It was a conference.People would assume I was drunk.If there was any justice in the world, Iwouldbe drunk.