Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lian
Sex with Foster is great.
Actually, scratch that. Foster is great.
Everything about the man.
The dimple in his right cheek. The way he says my name warmly every time he speaks it. The feel of him tucked against me at night now that neither of us is trying to maintain any distance.
Even his weird habit of never leaving his clothes on the floor for longer than five seconds.
To say I’m smitten would be an understatement. Luckily for me, Foster doesn’t seem to mind.
We’re cruising southbound now, on the return leg of our journey. The only bad part about this vacation is its inevitable end.
After a couple hours spent poolside, followed by a soak in the hot tub, Foster and I return to our cabin to shower. Together, of course, to conserve water. Then we head to a buffet for our meal.
“Holy crumpets,” I hiss the moment we step inside the restaurant. “Foster. It’s her.”
He looks where I’m staring before glancing back at me.
“The woman that tried to separate us!” I clarify.
He looks back at her. “I’m pretty sure she was just walking.”
“Foster, she was herding you toward the ocean. Steer clear of her, okay? I don’t know how scrappy she is in a pinch.”
Foster appears to be biting his tongue. “Li. She’s at least eighty.”
“So? Age is a mentality. Just… I’ll keep watch while you get your food.”
He shakes his head a little, but there’s a smile on his face as we walk down the buffet line, Foster and I filling our plates while I keep an eye out. We—okay, I—choose a table far from the woman, only feeling settled once the two of us are in our seats and out of sight.
Foster is watching me adoringly, like I’m a seal on a floe. I choose to take it as a compliment.
“Has Ava been missing you?” I ask.
His smile tips up on one side, and he grabs his phone. “Yeah. Look, she even drew a picture.”
Foster shows me a photo of a child’s drawing, what looks like a cruise ship floating in water with two blobby people aboard.
“Is that me?” I ask on a gasp, pointing to the shorter one wearing sailor’s stripes.
Foster coughs. “Yeah. I think Troy had something to do with that.”
“That’s so cute,” I say at the same time as someone exclaims, “Behind you!”
I throw my hands over my head on instinct, but then I’m being tugged from my seat and into Foster’s lap. The waiter who’d been turning around, not seeing the pulled out chair behind him, stumbles over it, his tray of dishes landing right where I was sitting a moment before.
There’s a profound beat of silence following the crash of dishes and silverware, and then hurried apologies from the waiter as he collects the fallen items.
“It’s fine,” I assure him, even as he apologizes again and again for nearly dropping the lot of it on my head.
He has us slide a table over while he cleans up the mess, and Foster pins me with a look. “Is that going to happen a lot? Mayhem finding you?”
I shrug. “Yes?”
He blinks once. And then twice. “All right. At least I’ll be prepared.”
I grin at him, which causes Foster’s eyes to slip down to my mouth. My stomach does a somersault.
“Do you, uh, want to try this?” he asks, holding out his fork with some pasta salad on the tongs. “I saw you eyeing it.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Go ahead.”
I take the fork from Foster, groaning at the bright burst of basil from the pesto. “Really good,” I mumble around my bite.
Foster huffs a small laugh, accepting his fork when I pass it back. I hurriedly scoop some pilaf onto my own fork, offering it in return. He takes it with a smile, nodding around the bite before his brows pinch.
“Um, Li… Does this have seafood in it?”
I open my mouth to tell him no, of course not but freeze. “Oh…my God.”
His eyes get a little wider.
“Oh my God,” I squeak.
“Does it?” he asks again, grabbing his water.
I scoot hastily out of my chair and run over to the buffet, locating the rice dish and its little label. My heart sinks.
Foster’s face looks grim when I rush back his way.
“I’m so sorry!” I say, waving my hands about wildly. “Did I… Oh my God, did I just kill you?”
He shakes his head, his tone far calmer than my own. “No, it’s fine. There’s an epinephrine auto-injector in my bag.”
“I don’t know what that is!” I practically scream.
“It’s medicine that’ll help,” he says, starting to stand up but not fast enough. I tug him to his feet, kicking his chair out of the way to clear an exit.
“We have to go!” I yell to the room at large. “He’s having an allergic reaction. I’m so sorry. I’ll come back later to pay.”
“It’s all-inclusive,” Foster reminds me. “We don’t have to pay.”
“I don’t know!” I shout. “I’m panicking.”
He huffs a small laugh, but I pay it no mind, positive he’s suffering the effects of seafood poisoning. My entire focus is on getting Foster back to our cabin as quickly as possible so he can take his life-saving meds.
“Coming through,” I call in the hallway, a couple and their kid moving aside. “Emergency here. Move your butts!”
Foster’s voice sounds vaguely amused. “Jesus, Lian.”
“What?” I demand. “You’re dying. Am I supposed to be calm?”
“I’m fine,” he says, but what does he know?
I give him a quick once-over as I jam the button for the elevator again and again. He doesn’t look visibly swollen, but that probably means all the swelling is happening on the inside, right?
I jam the button harder. The elevator finally opens, and I usher Foster inside, slapping the button for it to close as someone approaches. “Private ride! Get the next one.”
Foster gives my hand a gentle squeeze as we start to ascend.
“Are you having trouble breathing?” I ask. “Is that code? Squeeze once for yes. Twice for no.”
“What? It’s not code.”
“I know I’m smaller than you, but I want you to know I will be able to drag you if you pass out. I’ve practiced on Bailey.”
Foster looks mildly alarmed.
“It was fine!” I tell him. “Bailey wasn’t unconscious. I just like to be prepared. Why won’t this elevator move faster?”
It finally opens on our floor, and I drag Foster down the hall at a jog.
“Almost there, almost there, almost there,” I mumble.
Foster lets out another soft laugh. “Christ, you’re cute.”
I round on the man at our door. “What?! Stop being charming! I’m about to go down for manslaughter. It’s not the time!”
A gasp escapes me.
“Oh my God,” I say weakly, dawning realization making my heart beat even faster. “I’m the cruise killer. It’s me. I really didn’t see that coming.”
Foster gives my hand another squeeze before letting go to enter our cabin. I follow in a rush, running over to his dresser and flinging the drawers open.
“Where is it?” I demand. “Your…injector thing.”
“Right here,” Foster says from the bathroom. He comes out with a box in hand.
I grab it, tearing the packaging open as Foster holds his hand out beseechingly.
“Li,” he says, voice even but with a roughened edge. He’s swelling, isn’t he? Oh my God. “I think you should let me do that. Do you even know where to inject it?”
“Your…throat?” I guess.
His lips press into a flat line. “Let me.”
I hand the mangled package back as Foster casually drops his pants. He takes a seat at the edge of the bed, his face far redder than normal, and jams the device against his outer thigh. I wince, but he barely even flinches, removing it and taking a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “What’s happening?”
“My throat is swollen,” he says, still calm. “I can feel hives forming on my neck and down my chest. We should head to the medical center just in case.”
My inhale is sharp, and Foster’s eyes meet mine. He grabs my hand, tugging me closer.
“Li, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. It’s only a precaution.”
“I didn’t know,” I say quietly, my voice not cooperating for anything more. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” he says, his hand in mine feeling like a lifeline. “Can you look up where the medical center is? I could use your help getting there.”
I nod repeatedly, letting Foster go to grab our pamphlet detailing the ship’s interior. Foster tugs up his pants as I find the medical center, and then we head out the door.
“Please don’t hate me,” I say as we ride the elevator in silence. “I know I’m a bit of a mess, but I promise it won’t happen again.”
“I know it won’t,” he says, giving me the ghost of a smile. The swelling on his face makes me want to cry. “And I couldn’t ever hate you. Not possible.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Foster turns to face me more fully, a seriousness in his gaze. “You’re not a mess, Li. You’re smart and competent and so very bright. You have a lot of life in you. A lot of passion. If anyone tells you that’s a bad thing, well… I don’t think they deserve any part of it.”
I stare at Foster, struck silent.
His lips twitch into a smile. “That’s a first.”
“What?” I manage, the elevator stopping. Foster and I step out, and I lead him down the hall.
“You not having a witty retort,” he answers.
“You think I’m witty?”
“And cute, don’t forget that. Not to mention sweet.”
“And bright,” I put in. “You said I’m bright.”
“And bright,” he says easily.
“It, uh…kind of sounds like you might like me.”
Foster’s smile hitches up at the corner, his dimple popping, even amongst the swelling on his face. “Was that still up for debate?”
“Well, you did make it pretty clear earlier when you went down on me in the shower, and ahhh.” I wave at the little old lady passing. “Hello. Hi. I had this…uh, thing. A growth, maybe? On my leg. He went down on his knees to check it out.”
“You’re making it worse,” Foster whispers.
“I know,” I hiss back, slumping as the lady turns a corner. “I don’t know how to stop.”
Foster tugs me to a halt, the medical center door just behind him. “Li. If I haven’t made it clear, yes, I like you.”
“Even after…this?” I ask, waving a hand at him and then me and then him again.
“Even after you nearly killed me, yes.”
I whimper, and Foster tugs me close with a soft chuckle. He kisses the side of my head as I wrap my arms around him tight.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
“No more sorries.”
“I like you, too.”
There’s a smile in his voice when he says, “That’s better.”
Drawing back, I fit my lips to his in a brief kiss. He dimples again, and I can’t quite resist pressing my fingertip to that small divot in his cheek.
“Our kids will be so pretty,” I tell him.
Foster chokes as I pull open the door of the medical center.
Maybe this evening was a disaster, but I’m used to that. As long as Foster is okay, that’s all that matters.