Page 97 of Holiday Romance
“I know,” I moan, shifting around again. It’s impossible to get comfortable in this stupid seat. Next year, we’re flying business class. I’ll pay for us both, I don’t care. Though I don’t think even that could save me right now.
My period’s being a little bitch. The doctor said it might be stress. She did that thing where she asked me if I had a high-pressured job and I just started laughing. But yeah, stress. Who knew. I mean, the old crimson tides have always sucked but they’ve at least beenmanageable. Nothing a few painkillers and a night of feeling sorry for myself couldn’t handle. This month it’s like my body’s just decided to give up. I’m as weak as a newborn kitten and the trip to the airport has completely drained me.
“Don’t look at me,” I complain. “I look gross.”
“You’ve looked worse,” he says, smiling when I glare at him. I’d tried my best when I arrived, using all the energy I had as we ate, listening and nodding in all the right places as he caught me up on dating post-Alison (shite) and his apartment (also shite). But the headache started when they called our gate and, by the time we made it onto the plane, I could barely keep my eyes open.
I shift again, drawing my legs up as I try desperately to get comfortable in the small space, as though if I contort my body in the right way, the ache will suddenly stop.
“Here.”
“What— Hey!” I glare harder when Andrew steals the tiny airplane pillow from my lap, fluffing it out as best he can before placing it on his shoulder. When I just stare at him, he pats it invitingly, one brow raised.
“No,” I say flatly.
“You’re not going to get comfortable sitting like that.” When I don’t move, he takes the blanket and then his own pillow, building a kind of wall between us. “I once dated a girl who said the only way she could be comfortable on her period was if she lay flat on the floor with her legs up against the wall. I used to come back to the apartment and find her in different rooms, working away on her laptop like that. I didn’t question her and I’m not going to question you.” He pats the pillow. “Slump.”
God, this is embarrassing. But I guess the good news for me is that I’m in too much pain to care. I push up the armrest, shuffling closer to him. The position immediately allows me to bring my legs up more comfortably as I rest my head gingerly against the pillow. God damn him, but it works.
“Okay, you’re not allowed to move,” I mutter and can feel his laugh through the makeshift barrier as I tug my legs tighter to my body. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean it, Andrew.” My eyes are so damn heavy.
I test out more of my weight on him, leaning a little heavier when he doesn’t comment, and finally start to relax.
“Sorry I’m ruining Christmas,” I mutter, and he laughs.
“You’re not ruining Christmas.”
“I’m ruining the flight.”
“The whole point of this flight is to spend time with you. I’m spending time with you so do you see me complaining?”
He doesn’t have any time to when I’m doing enough for the both of us.
“You’re sick,” he says firmly. “Let me look after you. I’ll always look after you.”
He says the last bit almost as if he’s mad that I’d think otherwise and I nestle into the pillow, feeling a little better.
“Okay,” I say. “I might have one very short nap.”
“Good.”
“But you have to wake me up for snacks.”
“You got it.”
There’s movement above me as his head tilts, almost like he’s placing a kiss to the top of my head. But it’s too light for that, barely more than a whisper, and I think nothing more of it as unconsciousness pulls me under.
* * *
Now
It’s another hour before Ava returns, looking heroically alert after a double shift, and at the sight of her, I’m reminded once again that whatever the world pays its nurses, it will never be enough. She’s changed into sweatpants and a black fleece and accepts my added company with a more-the-merrier smile.
The city is a lot quieter when we emerge from the hospital, the sky dark and clear of any clouds. Ava leads us down the street to a small blue car that we somehow, with Tetris-like skill, manage to fit Andrew’s suitcase inside. Of course, it means taking out Ava’s bags and putting them in the back seat, but with only me to join them we have room.
