Page 65 of Ruined Vows
“I hate this,” she whispers.
“I know. But I love that you came. I should have picked a better day.” I brush the hair from her face.
Her eyes search mine. Not for jokes. Not for leverage. She’s trying to get a glimpse of me, the real me. She wants to know if I’ll care for her, so I let her see the real me.
“I wasn’t trying to impress you out there,” I say. “I just wanted to share something with you that didn’t involve suits, blood, or negotiations.”
She exhales slowly. “That’s not what I expected.”
“Good.”
I sit beside her, watch her breathe, and wait for the color to return to her cheeks.
After a long silence, she says, “You take care of things.”
I glance at her. “That’s my job.”
“No,” she says. “You take care ofpeople.”
And she says it like it’s a new revelation. Like it matters. Like I matter. She’s left me speechless, and I don’t respond. Because if I do, I might say too much.
So I take her hand instead. “It will pass,” I say encouragingly.
“Not soon enough,” she groans as she clenches her stomach, shifting on the bench. She’s fighting it and trying to push the nausea back down with sheer force of will.
She’s held it at bay, but suddenly, her spine stiffens, her hand clamped over her mouth. It’s as if I can see it happening, before it does in real time.
Then, her eyes grow wide with panic.
“Bianca—”
She shakes her head, stumbles upright. I catch her just as she bolts for the sink in the corner of the cabin.
And then—She pukes.
It’s forceful. It’s the violent, body-wracking movement that leaves one devastated, and it’s as if her body is trying to punish her.
I’m behind her in a heartbeat with no hesitation. I place one hand in her hair, holding it back, and the other braces around her waist as she folds over the steel basin like she’s trying to disappear into it.
“I got you,” I say.
She grips the edge of the counter. “God, this is humiliating.”
“No, you’re human,” I murmur.
She chokes a bitter laugh between coughs. “You’re holding my hair.”
“Would you rather I let you drown in it?”
She groans and leans heavily against me. I rest my chin against her shoulder, and her breath is slow but steady. I rub slow circles along her spine.
“Breathe,” I say softly. “Just breathe.” I kiss her forehead, and she sighs.
Her body sags against me, defeated and exhausted. Eventually, the worst of it passes, but she doesn’t pull away.
And that—that—means more than anything she’s said to me.
“I can’t believe you’re seeing me like this,” she mutters in a raspy voice.
