Page 10 of Mr. Cream
Ambrosia
Two Months Later
“That’s the fourth time you’ve puked today,” Josie, one of my co-workers, says. Her cubicle is next to mine which means she’s had a front row seat to my heave-fest all day.
“I must have had some bad ciopinno last night,” I lie because I know exactly why I’m sick. I thought I was in the clear; last month, I got my period and I breathed a sigh of relief but this week, anything that I’ve eaten has come right back up. Today is the worst; I can’t stay out of the bathroom because everywhere I look, something makes me gag. This last time was Josie’s sushi platter that she ate for lunch.
“Just go home, Ambrosia,” she urges me with a sympathetic look. “Ginger’s been on the warpath since Mr. Shire cancelled his contract with the company and if she sees that you’re sick, she’ll just send you home.”
“He cancelled his contract?” It’s hard to hide my shock because even though I was assigned to his case, I hadn’t heard anything official.
“You didn’t know? He was in the office a few weeks ago.”
“He was?” Where was I? I find myself craving him every so often and when I do, I google him but there hasn’t been any recent news.
“Yeah. I think you were off-site, meeting with a potential match for a client.”
My stomach starts to gurgle and my mouth waters, all familiar signs that I’m going to be sick again. I don’t even have time to excuse myself; I just run for the bathroom and throw myself into the first available stall.
I definitely should go home but maybe I need to make a detour first.
I gather up my belongings and make a hasty retreat from the office, hoping Ginger doesn’t catch sight of me leaving three hours early. I stop at a drugstore to purchase the test that will tell me whether or not I’m right about being pregnant and then I hop in a cab and head to Devon’s office.
Of course, I can’t make it past security, which I should have expected.
“I’m sorry, miss. I can’t just let you up there,” the guard insists.
“Can you just call him and tell him Ambrosia Miller is here to see him? It’s urgent?” I beg and as if on cue, another wave of nausea hits me, and I vomit into the closest trashcan.
While I’m kneeling on the cold marble floor with my face buried in a garbage can, I hear the security guard talking. “Sir, there’s a woman down here who would like to speak to you. She says it’s urgent.” There’s a pause and then he says, “Her name’s funny. Apolonia?”
“Ambrosia!” I croak. “My name is Ambrosia.”
“That’s right. It’s Ambrosia, sir.” There’s another pause and then I hear him set the phone receiver down. “He says he’ll be right down.”
“Perfect,” I answer right before I puke again.
My skin feels clammy and sweat beads along my forehead as I maintain my position over the trashcan, waiting for Devon to arrive. All I want to do is curl up in a warm bed and sleep for days. When I feel a set of strong hands lifting me, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“I’ve got you now,” Devon says softly as he helps me to my feet. I’m too afraid to look him in the eye so instead, I rest my head against his shoulder as he leads me to a bank of elevators. “Thanks for your help Dennis.”
We walk slowly but there’s no waiting because the car is already there, ready to take us up to Devon’s office.
“Are you going to be okay,” he asks. Gently, I nod my head and Devon tightens his grip on me. “Just a couple minutes, baby.”
The ride is smooth, and I start to feel slightly better. When the doors slide open, we step out into a lobby and Devon leads me to his office. “Marie, I don’t want to be disturbed,” he calls over his shoulder before closing the door.
Devon leads me over to a plush black leather sofa and I sit down. Finally, I dare to look up at him. His face is full of concern but there’s also a hint of a smile on his lips. And god, does he look good. He’s wearing a plain white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his chestnut brown tie is loose around his neck. But it’s the five o’clock shadow that really does it for me. I want to reach up and run my fingers across the roughness, but I resist.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur. “I didn’t really think before I came here.”
Devon smiles, showing me a full set of perfectly straight, white teeth. “I’m so glad you did.”
“Devon…” I start to say but the rest of the words stall.
“It’s okay, just relax,” he says, brushing my hair away from my shoulders.
I lay across the couch and tuck my feet up. Devon seems to magically produce a light cotton blanket and he covers me with it before he bends to plant a soft, chaste kiss on my cheek. My eyes flutter closed and instantly, I fall asleep.
