Page 140 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
“Must be food poisoning,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I flush the toilet, and he helps me up to wash my hands and brush my teeth.
When I turn, I nearly puke again because Spencer is in the doorway watching.
“Are you okay?”
If someone asks me that one more time I might walk outside in front of a car. A quick exit from this world is less than I deserve for what I’ve done.
“I didn’t know you were coming over tonight,” I tell Jameson. I hate that it sounds accusing.
His brows furrow. “I didn’t think I needed to? I usually only tell you if I can’t.”
“Right.” I press a hand to my forehead. “I need water.”
Spencer quickly turns and his long legs eat up the small hallway. Jameson holds onto me like he thinks I might faint as he guides me to the couch. I nearly burst into tears when he kneels in front of me and gently removes my shoes.
I don’t deserve him.
I don’t deserve Spencer.
They’re both far too good for me, that much is obvious.
I begin to hyperventilate, struggling to get air into my lungs. Is this what a panic attack feels like? Have I finally well and truly cracked?
“Babe.” Jameson cups my face between gentle hands. “Are you okay?”
“Water.” Spencer hands the glass to my boyfriend.
I feel like I’m going to throw up again.
Jameson holds the glass for me, encouraging me to take a few sips. I do and then manage to ask, “Where’s Roe?”
“Sleeping,” Spencer answers. “She went to play with her dolls and the next thing I knew, she was asleep. I think the stress of her appointment got to her. When they brought out the saw, I think she thought they were taking her whole arm.”
I give a small laugh.
Jameson presses his hand to my forehead, and I force myself to make eye contact with him.
“You don’t seem to have a fever.”
No, I just have the I’m-a-Cheater-flu.
“It’s just food poisoning.” I look toward Spencer, and he cocks his head to the side, clearly not believing me. “You should go.”
“I was going to wait until Roe woke up from her nap. I don’t want her to think I just left her.”
He has a valid point, but selfishly I can’t help but wonder if he just wants to hang around to see me crash out.
“Oh, okay,” I reply.
“Go lay down, babe,” Jameson says, entirely too sweetly. “Come on. I’ll help you.”
Oh, God—and leave them alone out here?
“No, I’m okay right here. The couch is great. Fantastic even.”
Out of the corner of my eye I catch Spencer sliding his arms across his chest and shaking his head. I’m aware I’m crashing out epically, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
They’re here.
