Only For Tonight, page 17
“Call it whatever you want to call it.” He leans forward to kiss me and I back my head away.
“I literally just barfed in the toilet.” I lift my hand in front of my face and turn my head to the side.
“I was going to kiss your forehead. Now, do you need me to carry you back to bed or are you going to pretend you’re okay but you aren’t?”
“Wow.” I put my hands on the floor beside my hips and try to stand up, but then my arms feel like noodles. “I think I’m just going to stay here for a bit.” He shakes his head. “In case I have to throw up again.”
“I’m getting you back into bed and that is where you’re going to stay.” He bends and takes me in his arms, one hand around my waist, the other under my knees.
“Wait,” I say when he takes one step forward and suddenly stops and looks down at me with fear in his eyes, no doubt thinking I’m going to throw up on him, “I want to brush my teeth.”
“There is nowhere you can sit.” He looks at the double sink vanities he has, but they each have floating shelves under them and it’s empty in the middle.
“I think I can stand for a couple of seconds to brush my teeth,” I tell him as he looks at the sink and then at the ottoman, probably thinking he can place me on the ottoman and then push me to the sink, but it’ll be too low. “You can stand behind me,” I deadpan and he walks over to the sink and places me down on my legs. He holds my hips in his hands as I reach for my toothbrush. “I was kidding.” I look in the mirror, watching him behind me. A full head over me, his ice-blue eyes feel like they are ice. “Or maybe not.” I turn on the water in the sink and wet the toothbrush before starting to brush my teeth. I don’t know why it makes me feel a bit more human.
He stands right behind me the whole time, holding on to my hips, staring at me in the mirror, and I avoid looking back at him with everything I have. Only because in the middle of brushing my teeth I think I’m going to be sick, and I need whatever energy I have inside of me to deal with that, along with the energy to not buckle at the knees and have him be like, I told you so.
I spit the toothpaste out before grabbing the glass and filling it to rinse my mouth, then making sure my toothbrush is clean before placing it back in the cupholder next to his. “Are you done?” he asks me.
“Minty fresh.” I turn in his arms and his hands grip my hips a bit tighter. “Now if you want to kiss me, I won’t say no.” He smirks and shakes his head.
“Why is it you can get me from getting ready to burn my house to laughing?” he mumbles as he kisses my lips softly.
My hand comes up to hold his cheek. “It’s a talent,” I joke with him.
“It truly is,” he says, his voice soft. “Now, let’s get you into bed.”
“If that is code for you want to have sex with me all day long”—I fold my arms under my chest—“I’m going to have to admit, I’m really not up for it.” I barely get the words out before he’s picking me back up. “Okay, fine, if you do all the work.”
“Shut up, Ari,” he grits out as he makes his way over to the bed and lays me in my place. “Now I’m going to go and get you something to eat. Some saltines, ginger snaps, and I’ll bring up some room temperature ginger ale I had delivered this morning.”
“You had stuff delivered this morning?” I ask, shocked, as I turn around and prop the pillows behind my back. “When?”
“I think it was at around nine,” he guesses, scratching his neck and my eyes roam down from his neck all the way to his shorts just lying on his hips. “I had to call in and tell David I wouldn’t be going with the guys to the children’s hospital today.”
My heart sinks. “You cancelled an event for me?”
“I wasn’t going to fucking leave you here like this.” His teeth are clenched together. “You were up all fucking night.” I close my eyes, trying to not feel like I’m a burden to him and having some sort of guilt about him taking care of me.
“You shouldn’t have cancelled; I would have been fine,” I say softly.
“You think I would have been able to even think about anything else but you if I left?” He shakes his head and ignores me. “If you have to throw up, you do it in here.” He picks up the stainless-steel garbage bin and places it on the bedside table. “I’ll be right back after I get this situated.” He points down to his dick.
I gasp, “Are you going to go and choke the chicken while I’m in bed?”
“Okay.” He holds up his hand. “No one is choking anything, and can we not refer to my cock as a chicken?” He glares. “It’s more like a python than a chicken.” I roll my lips together and try not to laugh. “I’m going to get it under control and then come back up.”
“Under control,” I snort out. “Did me throwing up arouse you?”
“It was you pushing your ass into my cock while you were brushing your teeth. If you were yourself and didn’t look like you were going to faint, I would have lifted one of your legs, placed it on the vanity, and fucked you from behind.” My mouth waters. “But we’re going to have to save that for another day.” He winks at me. “I’ll put it on my never-ending list of things I want to do to you.”
“Okay, please add it to the list.” That’s the only thing I can say as he nods and walks out of the room. I lean my head back into the pillows and close my eyes, putting my hand on my stomach. “I’m going to need you to go easy on me today.” I swear I feel fluttering inside of me and I’m not sure if our child is saying no or laughing at me.
I turn my head to the side and watch the water from his bedroom window. “I brought everything up,” he announces, walking into the room with a huge tray in his hand. “I have toast without butter”—he looks at me as he places the tray down in the middle of the bed as he sits on the other side of it—“bananas, water, ginger snaps, ginger ale, and saltines.” He points to everything. “They said Greek yogurt but that didn’t sound right.”
“Who are they?” I ask nervously.
“The internet people,” he admits, and I try not to laugh but I smile anyway. “Here, take a sip of the ginger ale.” He hands me the small glass. “It’s also been in that glass since five thirty, so it should be flat.”
“You got out of bed at five o’clock to pour ginger ale in a glass so it would be flat?” I ask him and he nods his head.
“That’s what friends do,” he mocks me and I roll my eyes.
“Still don’t have the energy to argue with you.” I look at him and then at the glass. “If it’s okay, I’m going to stick to water for now.” I reach for the water, having no energy to do anything.
I take a small sip and then sit back, waiting to see how my stomach is going to handle it. I take another small sip a couple of minutes later. I put the bottle down on the tray as I look at everything he brought up. “Thank you,” I tell him. “I’m just going to rest my eyes.” I close my eyes, and the minute I do, the water does a huge lurch back up. I reach over for the garbage can and almost fall out of the bed, trying to not throw up on said bed. He catches me around my waist before I fall off the bed as I throw up all the water I just drank, which wasn’t much, along with more water.
“Ugh,” I groan out, “why am I so sick?” I close my eyes, turning back to bed. “Can you get me a rag?” I ask him and he nods, grabbing the tray off the bed and placing it on the small table that he has in the corner next to a chair. I hear the sound of water coming from the bathroom and I can’t help the bile that comes up again.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he swears, “we need to call someone.” The little string of calmness he had is gone. “We need to fucking go to the hospital.”
“I’ll be fine,” I mumble.
“It’s been almost twenty hours that you’ve been throwing up nonstop.” I close my eyes, knowing he’s right and this isn’t really normal. “Ari,” he says my name in a plea, “let’s please go to the hospital.”
“Fine,” I huff out. “Only so I can be the one who can say I told you so.” I toss the cover off of me, standing but then sitting back on my ass just as fast. “Then you are going to have to admit I was right.”
twenty
Jaxon
“Fine,” she huffs out. “Only so I can be the one who can say I told you so.” She tosses the cover off of her, trying to be all brave standing up, but then she quickly falls back on her ass. “Then you are going to have to admit I was right.”
“They’ll be words I’ll have tattooed on my body,” I tell her, getting up and walking over to her, squatting down between her legs. “How about I grab your clothes for you?” I can see the exhaustion in her face. I can see how much of a struggle it is to do anything.
“Fine,” she concedes, as if she’s doing me a favor. “Get my black sweatpants and my black tank top. Or if you could just carry me to my luggage.” I glare at her. “Fine, just get me those things, all the black clothes are together.”
“Okay.” I look up at her and hate how pale she looks. Hating that after the last twenty hours with her throwing up more than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life throw up, she still has the attitude to serve me. “You lie back down. I’m going to get dressed and then come and dress you.”
“Jaxon, I think I can put on my own clothes.” She turns to get back in bed and rolls to her side in a fetal position.
I look up to the ceiling before I turn and head into my walk-in closet. I grab my own pair of black sweatpants, a white T-shirt, and a black sweatshirt. I walk over to her luggage in the corner of the room, hating that she’s just been living out of this suitcase since she’s been here instead of unpacking. Tossing the clothes around, I find a pair of black sweatpants and a tank top and grab a sweatshirt of mine before I walk out.
I find her with her head hanging off the bed and heaving into the garbage can. “I’m going to call an ambulance.” I toss the clothes on the bed, the fear creeping into my bones. My body goes cold and my hands feel like they have a layer of sweat coated on them.
“No, no.” She spits and then reaches over to grab a wet rag that I left there during the night. “Let’s just get me dressed and get me to the hospital so I can gloat in your face.”
She places the bin down on the floor before she reaches for her clothes. “Let’s get you dressed and then I’m going to go and rinse this out”—I pick up the garbage can—“so we can take it with us when we go.” I watch her try to put on her pants, getting even paler if that can even be possible.
She is panting as if she ran a whole marathon for five days when she finally puts on her sweatpants, and I watch her every single movement, knowing she’s going a lot slower than she even wants to go. “Stop watching me,” she snaps, “and go do what you need to do.”
“I need to put you over my shoulder and get you to the fucking hospital,” I bark at her, walking to her and grabbing her shirt from her and helping her put it on. She doesn’t fight me, which means she really isn’t feeling well. Once she is dressed, I turn and walk the bin to the shower. I grab the showerhead and turn it on and rinse it out. I do it as fast as I can, and when I walk back into the room, she’s ready to go. My sweatshirt falls to her knees and she starts to walk toward the stairs. “Is that safe?” I ask her and she looks over her shoulder.
“Is it going to make you feel better to carry me, Jaxon?” she asks me.
“Yes,” I admit to her. “Save your energy for something else instead of being a pain in my ass.” I know the minute I say the words it is the wrong thing to say when she looks like I just hit her.
“I don’t want to be a pain in your ass, Jaxon,” she snaps at me. “The last thing I want to do is be a pain in your ass and uproot your whole life.” I stare at her and see her hands shaking. “You think I want this? Making you miss events to take care of me? I don’t.”
“Ari,” I say softly.
“No,” she snaps, “don’t Ari me.” I can see the tears in her eyes. “I feel so fucking helpless,” she admits, “and I hate it like you wouldn’t believe.”
“It’s okay for me to be the one to take care of you.” I put my hand at the side of her neck, my thumb going over the vein where I can feel her heartbeat pulsing. “Let me ask you this, would you not take care of me if the roles were reversed?”
“Of course,” she replies.
“So let me fucking take care of you.” I walk to her and hand her the garbage can before bending and taking her in my arms. I head straight for the garage. “I’ll get your slides and your purse,” I tell her as I put her in the passenger seat of the SUV, “and a couple bottles of water in case you get thirsty.”
“I don’t want to put anything in my mouth,” she rebuts, leaning her head back on the headrest. “I might just nap.” I move my finger over to the button and slowly recline her seat. “That is better.” She closes her eyes.
“Do you want me to grab you a blanket?” I ask her and she shakes her head. “I’m going to grab one, just in case,” I mumble.
“Okay.” I rush back in the house to the kitchen, grabbing her purse, then snatching up the throw blanket that is draped over the back of the sofa, before I run back to slide my sneakers on and grab her slides that are right next to mine. I open the back door of the SUV, dumping the stuff on the seat, before I get into the SUV and pull out. “You okay?” I ask her and she just grumbles. “I hope driving doesn’t make you more sick.”
“You and me both,” she mutters, the seat moving to a lying-down position.
The drive to the hospital takes me twenty minutes and it feels like it’s the longest twenty minutes of my life. Every single minute I was looking at the clock, then looking at her. She slept the whole way, which is a good thing, I guess. I went under the speed limit to make sure we got here safe and also making sure she didn’t get more sick, while at the same time all I wanted to do was speed here.
We pull up to the emergency side of the hospital and I park the SUV and then look around. “Baby,” I say and she mumbles, “I’m going to go and get you a wheelchair.”
She turns her head to look at me and barely has her eyes open. “Okay,” she agrees, “I’m just going to sleep.” Her skin color is even more pale than it was before.
I get out of the SUV and run into the emergency room, seeing the security guard sitting on a stool at the door. “Hey,” I say, looking around, “is there anywhere I can get a wheelchair?”
He nods his head before he points to the side where there is a row of wheelchairs. “Thanks.” I jog to one and then rush back out to the SUV. I open the door and unbuckle her seat belt before grabbing her and placing her in the wheelchair.
“I don’t feel well,” she mumbles and then leans over to heave on the side. I grab her purse before shutting the door. “Jaxon,” she says my name, “I don’t want to hear you say I told you so, but I feel like shit.”
“I bet you do.” I push her into the emergency room, looking around for the signs to registration.
I rush to the glass with her as she puts her head back and starts to pinch her nose with her two fingers. “Hi,” I greet the girl behind the glass separator, “we need to see a doctor.”
She looks at me and then at Ariella. “What is the problem?”
“She’s pregnant.” That’s the first thing I say, my body filled with so many nerves, it’s like I forgot how to speak. “She started throwing up last night and hasn’t stopped since. She thought it was food poisoning, but I don’t think it’s that.”
She nods her head. “Does she have insurance?” she asks me and I look back over at Ariella.
“Baby,” I ask, squatting beside her, “do you have insurance?”
“Yeah,” she mumbles, “it’s in my bag.” She puts her hand on her bag and I grab it from her.
“Can we see a doctor and then answer all these questions?” I am at my wits’ end. “I can give you my credit card now and you can just charge it.”
“Sir, we need her information,” she says to me and I open her purse and grab her wallet before going back to her. She looks at me now, but her eyes look like they are glazed over.
“Baby, please show me where your card is.” My heart speeds up even more in my chest as she grabs the wallet from me, but it’s like her whole body is shutting down. I look back at the woman whose eyes go wide as she picks up the phone and I hear her voice out of the intercom.
“Evaluation nurse at triage,” she says, putting the phone down and then pointing over to the two doors beside her. “Go through those, there will be a nurse waiting for you.”
I wheel her to the doors and they slide open, and a nurse comes to the desk on the side. “What do we have?” she says, looking at Ariella.
“She’s been throwing up for the last twenty-four hours,” I explain, my voice going higher. “She’s ten weeks pregnant,” I continue, looking at Ariella who’s fighting to open her eyes, “maybe nine weeks.”
“When was the last time she ate or drank anything?” The nurse comes over to hold her wrist.
“She ate some pizza last night and she hasn’t been able to drink anything. She took a couple sips of water and then threw it up.”
“She’s dehydrated for sure,” she advises. “Has she fainted or passed out?”
I run my hand through my hair. “I don’t think so, she didn’t say anything.” My heart is racing so fast, even breathing is hard. “If she hasn’t been throwing up, she’s been resting. So I am not sure.”
“We need to get her hooked up to an IV.” She moves behind the wheelchair. “Someone will come and get her information.” She runs away from me with Ariella and all I can do is stand here and watch. She starts to talk frantically with someone else, the nurse behind the desk in the back runs out from behind it and moves with her until I can’t see them anymore.
I’m about to rush to her when I see the nurse come back out. “We need an orderly to help transfer.” I look to the side, seeing a guy dressed in blue scrubs rush their way.
“Sir.” I look over to see another nurse there. “We’re going to need her information.” I look around, feeling like the room is spinning under my feet. “I’m going to need you to focus right now.”
