“THAT’S A BUMMER that you have to go,” a concerned but mostly relieved Camile lied. “Poor Zeus.” Zeus was Laura’s diabetic cat. Her friend’s roommate had texted to say the cat was acting funny, and now Laura had to cut their visit short.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Laura hugged her. “You know how he gets when I’m gone.” Camile heard a little sniff before she added, “Your deodorant smells good, very fragrant. We’ll talk soon.”
“Of course.” Camile stepped back and watched her friend hustle out the door. “Bye. Drive safe. Text me when you get home and let me know he’s okay.” Was it her imagination or had a woozy feeling swept through her during the last few frames? The ball had nearly slipped from her hand in the tenth; she’d only managed a spare. Popping a couple of antacids had not helped.
“Isn’t she great?” Camile faced Rhys.
“She is something, all right,” he answered, glancing toward the restroom where Willow had gone.
Camile swiped a hand across her brow. “I could tell she was into you.”
“I don’t think so.” Rhys shifted on his feet.
“Trust me—I can tell when Laura likes a guy. I didn’t even know she liked to bowl! You saw her run over and sit by you. Too bad she has a boyfriend. Or at least, I think she does. I could set you up.”
Rhys frowned. “Set me up?” he repeated sharply. “Why would you think I’d want to be set up? And why with her specifically?”
“Um, I don’t know... You’re single. At least I think you are? Laura is...maybe single?” She hadn’t mentioned Rob. Had she and Rob broken up? Camile supposed she should feel happy about that possibility. But, she realized, she didn’t care. School and Rob, and Laura for that matter, seemed a million miles away now. “Well, you met her. You guys are the same, um, have the...” Her thoughts were becoming sluggish along with her body. “The same...” What was she saying?
“I am single. I did meet her,” he said firmly. “But that woman and I are not the same.”
Camile shook her head. “No, I don’t mean you are the same same. Your personalities are very different. But you’re the same level of...” She’d been about to say attractiveness but was halted when her stomach twisted with another violent cramp. For which she was thankful, in a way, because saying that would basically be telling him he was good-looking when he already knew. And she didn’t mean solely physical attractiveness, anyway; she meant they both had the whole package.
She also didn’t want him to think she felt sorry for herself because she wasn’t at their level. She didn’t. It was just that certain people went together. Beautiful people who had it all together belonged together. Ones who managed to earn their degrees, get awesome jobs and didn’t get sued, and still had time to comb their hair. Like apples and apples or oranges and apples? Or...whatever. The thought of fruit suddenly made her want to gag.
But the general subject matter prompted a question she’d been wondering about. “How old are you?”
With a quick grin, he answered, “I’m thirty-two. How old are you?”
He threw the question back to her so fast that she decided he’d been curious about her age, too. “I’m twenty-six.”
“That’s better than twenty-two.”
“It is?” What did that mean?
“From my perspective, yes. I was hoping you were older than twenty-one.”
Wait...? Did he mean because there was less of an age difference between them? Her stomach didn’t save her from answering this time. “Why?”
“Pretty sure you know why.”
Was he saying he liked her? That was impossible. He already hadn’t liked her when he had the chance. Even though he seemed to enjoy spending time with her, in that they had fun at his lessons, and they were sort of becoming friends. She needed clarification and was about to ask for it when her stomach went full rogue.
Pressing her hands to her midsection, she bent at the waist and let out a gasp of pain. “My stomach...”
“CAMILE, ARE YOU OKAY?” Rhys asked the question even though he knew the answer. “I knew something was wrong with you,” he whispered roughly. Concern gripped him hard. She’d passed out recently and spent time in the hospital. Please, he begged silently, don’t let her have some kind of incurable medical issue.
“Yes.” She shook her head no. “Nothing is wrong with me.” She doubled over again. “But maybe I do need to sit for a minute.”
“Let’s do that. And then I’m going to take you home.” He curled an arm around her shoulders. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, and he muttered a soft curse. “You’re burning up.” He led her to a bench near the door and kept one arm securely around her as they sat. Melting against him, she rested her head on his shoulder. Removing his phone from his pocket, he sent a text to Anne.
“No, I’m just hot. It’s this shirt. I keep telling Hal he needs to get rid of these polyester shirts. They don’t breathe. I should probably breathe...” Pressing her face against his chest, she inhaled deeply and made a loud, snuffling sound. It would have been funny if the situation didn’t have him so alarmed. “Oh, man... I really, really like the way you smell,” she whispered. “I can smell you when we’re dancing...”
“You like the way I smell?” Chuckling, he shook his head.
“That’s weird, isn’t it? I don’t know why I just told you that. Maybe because my stomach is trying to kill me, and it helps to think about something else...”
Holding her close to his side so she wouldn’t tip over, he whispered, “No, sweetheart, that’s not weird.” Pressing his lips against her temple, he added, “That’s serendipity at its finest.”
Opening one eye to look at him, she said, “Did you just call me sweetheart?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re sweet and you’ve stolen my heart.”
“No!” Her fingers grasped a fistful of his T-shirt. He winced when she pulled some chest hair along with it. “Rhys, no, I didn’t steal from you. I wouldn’t.”
Peeling her fingers away, he tucked her hand into his. “Shh, Camile, I know. I didn’t mean it literally. And my heart is still safe inside my chest. No need to try to yank it out of there.”
“Then why did you leave me?”
“Leave you?”
“Is it because I smell like French fries and sweat and stinky bowling-alley feet?” She gave her head a firm shake. “No, that can’t be it. I didn’t stink then...”
“Camile, I’m not going anywhere, and you don’t stink. In fact—”
“Uncle Rhys, what’s going on?” A concerned Willow stood before them. “Is Camile sick?”
“Yes, she’s got a stomachache and a fever. Aunt Anne is going to meet us at the hospital.”
“No!” Camile cried. “No, you can’t take me to the hospital. I’m fine. Just tired. And my stomach—” she pointed an accusing finger in its general direction “—we used to be friends, but now it hates me.”
“Camile—”
Struggling, she sat up straighter. There was a stifled sob in her voice as she pleaded, “Please, don’t. No hospital. I’m not dying. I don’t think. I can’t... Also, do not call my sister Aubrey! Promise me, Rhys, you will not call Aubrey.”
“I promise,” he shot back, pretty sure he’d promise her anything she asked of him right now.
“Unless I’m dying. Then you can call her. Which I’m not! I might be sick, though. Probably that stomach bug that Maryanne had. My coworker at Tabbie’s was sick and...” She shrugged and it looked completely pitiful. “And I can’t talk anymore because I’m going to...”
RHYS TOOK HER HOME, right after she got sick in the trash can and then insisted that she needed to haul the trash outside to the dumpster so that “Jason,” her teenage replacement, wouldn’t have to do it. After a short argument, Rhys carried out the task. Willow then retrieved yet another trash bag from a concerned Jason who was now working behind the counter, so she’d have it for the ride home. Even then, she insisted that Rhys pull over for her to throw up so she didn’t get sick in his “nice car.”
Minutes after he got her inside and up the stairs to her apartment, Anne arrived to get Willow. “How is she?” she asked.
“Sleeping. In between vomiting sessions. I got her to swallow two ounces of water, and then she crashed. I don’t know what to do... She was adamant about not going to the hospital. Harper is on her way over. Hopefully, she can give me some advice.” And answers, he added silently.
“Okay, keep us posted.”
A distraught Willow hugged him, made him promise to text updates, and they left.
Rhys paced, checking on Camile with each pass by her bedroom door until Harper knocked.
“Hey,” Harper said, stepping inside. “I’m going to check on her.” She disappeared inside the bedroom for a few minutes.
When she came out, she said, “Definitely has a fever.”
“I know. I feel like I should have taken her to the hospital. She was adamant about not going. That, and not calling her sister Aubrey.” And about Rhys not leaving her, but he left that part out. “I know she passed out recently. Is there something going on with her? Is she sick, Harper? Tell me if you know something.”
“Oh,” Harper said with a frown, seeming to understand his deeper meaning. “No, Rhys, not that I know of. Of course, it’s possible that she wouldn’t tell me if there was. Despite her outgoing personality, she’s a very private person. Nina would know. Let’s call her. But I’m pretty sure the reason she didn’t want to go to the hospital is because she can’t afford it.”
“What?”
“All I know is that when she passed out, they took her to the emergency room. She’s been freaked out about the huge hospital bill ever since. And now there’s—” Harper stalled before adding “—another bill. Anyway, she’s been sick about it. Sorry, bad pun.”
“She doesn’t have insurance? What other bill?”
Harper was clearly uncomfortable with the questions.
“Harper, I’m not prying unnecessarily here.”
“I know. It’s just... In addition to being private, she’s very stubborn. She refuses help, which I get.” Harper tipped her head to one side and added, “Even though it seems a little over the top. She wouldn’t want me talking about this. But as far as her insurance goes, I believe she has basic, catastrophic coverage with a sky-high deductible.”
Rhys thought about her multiple part-time jobs. No doubt they got her by, but what was her long-term plan? “Didn’t she recently graduate from college? Is she looking for a more permanent full-time job? With benefits? Or is she going back for more school? Do you know what happened with her thesis?”
Harper’s eyes had gone wide, presumably caught off guard by his questioning. “You need to ask her about all of that. She’s been through a lot, Rhys. I’m honestly not sure what her plans are.” Rhys let that go for now. But between Laura’s snide commentary and Harper’s reaction, he knew that something was off in Camile’s world.
Rhys nodded and went to sit with Camile. Nina showed up soon after, with Mia in tow. An exam by a doctor of veterinary medicine was fine by him, especially since Harper trusted her. Rhys filled Mia in on Camile’s behavior and symptoms, including the information about her ill coworker.
Mia and Nina disappeared inside Camile’s room. Rhys winced when he heard vomiting again. He could feel Harper watching him, see the curiosity in her expression. He didn’t say anything because he had no idea how to explain how he felt. If he tried, it would undoubtedly come out sounding wrong.
What felt like hours later, they finally emerged from Camile’s room. Mia said, “I’m fairly certain it’s gastroenteritis, a stomach bug. Her fever isn’t high enough to cause me concern. I’m going to leave this thermometer with you.” She placed it on the coffee table. “Take her temperature every hour and if it creeps up past 102, call me. If it spikes to 103, go to the ER and then call me.”
“What about the way she was talking? She seemed out of it.”
“Do you think she was hallucinating?”
“What was she saying?” Nina asked.
Rhys thought for a second and shook his head. “No, not hallucinating.” In answer to Nina, he said, “She was talking about me leaving.”
“Ah,” she said with a firm nod like this made perfect sense. “She’s sensitive about that.”
“About what?”
Nina opened her mouth to respond, shut it and then stuttered, “About, um, people...leaving.” She was lying, and he knew it.
Rhys narrowed his eyes at her in a way that conveyed this conviction. Nina returned it with a challenging glare of her own, leaving him even more confused.
He let it go for now, when Mia said, “Likely she was just feeling crappy and rambling. Plus, I think she’s exhausted. Nina was telling me about the hours she’s been working and the stress she’s under.”
“What do I do?” Rhys asked.
Mia said, “For now, make sure she drinks plenty of water. Dehydration is the number one concern. I predict she’ll be feeling better by tomorrow. But then she needs to rest. These viruses come on with the force of a Mack truck, but usually don’t last long. It’ll wipe her out, though. She’ll need to take it easy for a few days to get her strength back.”
Nina scoffed. “My little sister does not know how to take it easy. Well, neither of them does, but at least Aubrey takes care of herself while she’s working too hard.”
The idea of Camile not taking care of herself gnawed at him like a toothache. If anyone thought it was weird that he stayed the night, they didn’t mention it. Nina stayed for the first shift of the evening with a plan for Harper to relieve her at 3:00 a.m. Rhys dozed in a chair by Camile’s bed.
“Rhys?”
It was nearing the shift change when the sound of Camile’s voice stirred him. “Do you need your bucket?” he whispered because Nina was asleep on the sofa.
She shook her head. “What are you still doing here?”
Sitting forward, he picked up her cup. “Torturing you, remember?” Earlier, she’d accused him of “torture by water” when he’d slipped the straw into her mouth and made her drink.
She managed a few sips. Glassy-eyed, she stared at him for a few long seconds like she didn’t quite know what to make of his presence.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” Her voice sounded hoarse, her throat no doubt sore from the trauma it had been through.
He pressed a palm to her cheek. Still warm. “Where else would I be?” He smoothed a loose tendril of hair behind her ear.
“Where people aren’t throwing up on you.”
He chuckled. “I like taking care of you.” And he realized how much he meant it. And what that meant. He’d never wanted to take care of a woman in his life—a child in the form of his niece, Willow, yes, but not this.
Despite her now drooping eyelids, she managed an admirable protest, “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”
“No one said you needed it. I said I liked it.”
That got a small smile, the first since her ordeal began.
Eyes closed now, she said so softly that he would have missed it if he hadn’t been hovering, “You are sweet. When you left, I did not think you were sweet.”
Who had left her? Frustrating. Besides the fact that he didn’t like being mistaken for this guy, he couldn’t help wondering what kind of idiot would ever leave Camile Wynn.
CAMILE ROLLED OVER very, very slowly. And then she waited for the dreaded wave of nausea. When it didn’t immediately materialize, she inhaled a deep breath and then waited some more. After another moment, she tentatively pushed herself up onto one elbow. Rhys was sleeping in a chair beside her bed. Rhys! In a chair. Beside her bed. Where he’d been all night, she recalled now. She should have been mortified, but she’d been way too ill to care. And so grateful for his presence. Nina and Harper had been here, too. And Mia at one point.
Tears of gratitude gathered and stung her eyes as she realized she had people in her life who cared this much about her. Who’d held her hair while she vomited, mopped away her sweat, covered her with blankets when she had the chills and uncovered her again when those same blankets threatened to roast her alive. They’d wiped her mouth, pressed cool towels to the back of her neck and coaxed her to drink water. Rhys may have even threatened at one point. Water. It actually sounded good for the first time in what felt like days. She also needed to use the restroom. A good sign, she decided, that she wasn’t dehydrated.
Quietly, carefully, she shifted to the edge of the bed. At some point, someone had wrangled her into a pair of pj’s. She pretended that it was Nina or Harper and not the handsome sleeping giant slouched in a much-too-small chair next to her bed. She swung her legs around, sat up and almost made it to her feet when her legs buckled. With a little squeal of alarm, she crumpled forward. Rhys scooped her up before she hit the floor and secured her on his lap.
“Hey,” she managed to calmly quip despite the embarrassment burning her cheeks, “Good catch.”
With a grumpy face and a growly voice, he said, “What are you doing?”
“Oh, I just thought I’d see what was down there on the floor,” she joked. “It’s dust bunnies, mostly, in case you were curious.”
“Did you fall?”
“Not exactly. It was more of a giving-out-of-the-leg-muscles thing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For dozing off and missing the show.”
“Well, I don’t think you can complain too much. You had a front-row seat for the barf and hurl show. Reviewers are spewing their praise. They’re calling it a real gag.”
He laughed then, and it made Camile smile right through her mortification. And not just with her mouth but inside, like her heart was smiling, too. His gaze traveled over her for a moment as if assessing her condition.
Voice low and smooth as velvet, he said, “I know you’re feeling better if you’re making jokes.”
“Bad ones. Sorry. Kind of gross. I’m a little embarrassed.”
“That’s quite all right as long as you’re not gearing up for an encore performance.”
“That’s a good one,” she said with a weak chuckle.
“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. We all get sick.”
She nodded, appreciating how incredibly kind he was being about this. “Rhys?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. I can’t even begin to thank you for everything and...” Feeling emotional again—what was it about being sick that made a person grateful for every little not-sick thing? For example, she felt a newfound and abiding affection for her pillow, ice cubes and the fuzzy socks on her feet. She took a moment to gather her thoughts and hold back the tears before adding, “I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I have some ideas.”
“Like what?” she asked, his words rousing a nervous twinge.
“We’ll talk about it later. When you’re feeling better.”
“Deal. For now, since I have sacrificed all of my dignity to the porcelain gods, can you help me get to the bathroom?”