Page 69 of Crashing the Altar
Tripp pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Can you pull down the table for us before you wash up? Should be ready in a few minutes after I drain the angel hair.”
“Yep.” I left his side to flip the latch on the wall-mounted table, lowering it until it became horizontal before securing the single leg in a fixed position.
By the time I returned from cleaning my hands, Tripp had bowls set out, and we served ourselves buffet-style before sitting at the table with our meal.
This dish had been one I’d begged my mama to make no less than once a month. It featured a base of angel hair pasta, topped with ham and peas, and a sprinkling of cheddar cheese. It wasn’t classic country cuisine, but it was a recipe that had been handed down for generations on my mother’s side.
Steam curled up from my bowl, indicating the food was still piping hot. It was a risk to take a bite so soon, but I couldn’t wait, the temptation of the taste of home too alluring.
I made sure to capture a little bit of everything on my fork as I brought it to my mouth.
Chewing once, I paused. Then I chewed a second time to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.
“Penny?” Tripp’s voice had my eyes lifting.
Managing to swallow, I drained a full glass of water before explaining. “Tastes funny, don’t you think?”
Frowning at the bowl set before him, he shoved a heaping forkful into his mouth. Then he shook his head. “Seems fine to me.”
Eyeing the food skeptically, I forced myself to take another bite, which only confirmed my suspicion. “No. There’s definitely something different about it.”
Tripp hummed. “With only two burners, I had to use microwave peas. Do you think that could be it?”
“Maybe,” I agreed, setting my fork down.
Blue eyes tracked the move, and my husband’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “You’re not gonna eat it?”
I shook my head. “I feel bad, baby. You went to all this work to make my favorite, but I just can’t get past the taste. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He stood, moving to the fridge and pulling it open. “I can make you something else. What are you in the mood for?”
Exhaustion settled over me like a weighted blanket. “Honestly, I’m really tired. As soon as I wash the day off, I’m gonna crawl into bed.”
“Penny.” Tripp sighed my name. “You have to eat.”
“One skipped meal won’t kill me, I promise.” Rising from my chair, I gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze on my way to the bathroom.
Under the hot spray of the shower, the tension seeped from my muscles and washed down the drain.
Tomorrow would be a better day.
I couldn’t shake the fatigue that had plagued me the past few weeks. For a while, I managed to brush it off as my body reacclimating to the ranchschedule, where pre-dawn wake-up calls were the norm. But even getting a full eight hours didn’t seem to be enough. I was constantly fighting to stay awake.
Then, yesterday, the steady rhythm of Echo’s footsteps had my eyes drifting shut, nearly lulling me to sleep. I barely jolted back to consciousness in time to keep from sliding out of the saddle and plummeting seven feet to the ground. That was enough to scare me into getting checked out.
A knock sounded on the exam room door a second before Tucker stepped inside, a tablet held in his hands.
He offered me a warm smile in greeting. “Hey, Penny. Didn’t expect to see you today. What brings you in?”
Twisting my hands in my lap, I explained, “I’ve been struggling with constant fatigue for a few weeks. No amount of sleep is making a difference. I did a little online research and think maybe I’m anemic?”
Tucker chuckled. “Ah, good old Dr. Internet. Love that guy.”
My cheeks heated as he poked fun at me.
He took a seat on the rolling stool, tapping on the screen of his tablet. “When Maggie did your intake, she noted that your last period was May 10th. Is that correct?”
I shifted uncomfortably. Though Tucker was a great general practitioner, he was also a personal friend, so I usually sought out his female partner, Felicity, for gynecological care.
