Chapter 15
MAX
I reluctantly left Dylan’s bedroom, walking like a zombie towards my own suite with no real sense of how I got there.
I was in shock but that couldn’t be. Not from a kiss, for fuck’s sake.
And yet, something about that kiss, about Dylan, touched a tender part of me that I thought I’d buried a long time ago along with my marriage.
And I wanted those feelings to stay buried.
My life was safe now; I was free from complications and drama I didn’t need.
Any kind of relationship with Dylan—other than friendship—would surely spark chaos.
After all, he was a public figure, and I was a private man.
Once he came out to the world, the world would be watching, following, pursuing.
Anyone in his association would be caught in the crossfire, and that was the last place I wanted to be.
I was getting ahead of myself with all this ruminating.
Maybe all Dylan wanted was a fuck. But if his reaction to my dinner date was any indication, it was more than that. And given my reaction to his reaction…Gah, this couldn’t be happening. I was always good at compartmentalizing. Softer feelings and sex did not go hand in hand.
I resolved that we would forget the kiss and focus on finishing the book. All this—whatever this was—would be pushed aside and forgotten.
My body didn’t wholly agree.
I stood in my shower in the early hours of the morning, replaying the kiss to end all kisses.
Dylan’s taste was etched in my memory as I stroked my cock frantically, coming in a wicked rush, shouting out his name and cursing myself in equal measure.
When my heart rate returned to near normal, I figured I’d finally managed to get it all out of my system. I hoped.
I crawled into bed, still feeling uneasy but determined to snag a few hours of sleep.
Until I woke up suddenly, my stomach pitching in a frightening way.
Before I knew it, I was clinging to the toilet in my bathroom like it was a lifeboat in an angry sea.
After two hours, I took an anti-nausea pill, but it did no good and I realized this wasn’t motion sickness but most likely food poisoning.
Serves you right for eating raw oysters. God, I swear I’ll never touch them again, just please make the pain stop.
It was just after 6 a.m. when I managed to snag the phone and called down to Jana to get electrolyte drinks sent up. I was too weak to get up off the floor of the bathroom and answer the door when she knocked so I yelled out instead. “Come in, it’s open.”
But instead of Jana, it was Dylan who appeared in the doorway, armed with neon bright electrolyte bottles and a package of crackers.
He was so goddamn beautiful my eyes hurt.
Then I thought about what I looked like—sweaty, pale, shivering in my underwear, and hopefully not covered in vomit. I wanted to crawl into the corner of the bathroom and hide, but I didn’t dare move too far away from my porcelain companion.
“Doc, what’s going on? Jana said you’re sick. She sent me down here to check up on you.”
“Food…poisoning…probably…oysters. Oh God, Dylan get out! I’m going to be sick again.”
My stomach pitched and that was it. I continued to gag and retch but there was hardly anything left in my stomach to get rid of. Chills racked my body, and I began to shake in earnest.
“I’m calling for a doctor,” Dylan said as he rushed back into my bedroom.
I had no strength left to argue, so I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall.
His voice carried and the familiar drawl comforted me.
I tried to get up, but my energy was zapped.
I remained where I was, stomach cramps doubling me over.
I startled when a warm cloth was suddenly pressed to my face. I hadn’t even noticed the water running or Dylan’s reappearance.
“Jana’s arranging for a doctor to come aboard shortly,” Dylan whispered as he gently wiped off my face and neck. Getting rid of the sweat and whatever else was on my face felt so good. I finally cracked opened my eyes to find Dylan’s pale-green ones full of worry.
“I’ll be fine. Just…has to make its way out…Fun times.”
I panted and clutched my stomach, still shivering but now oddly hot. I was probably running a fever. I was almost naked, but I felt like I was burning under the rays of the sun.
“Take a few sips of water, slowly, and we’ll see if you can keep it down.”
I tried but a few moments later, the water came right back up. Now I was anxious for medical attention because I felt worse than ever. My head was fuzzy, I was dehydrated and so weak I could barely open my eyes. When I finally did, the room began to tilt so I shut them and prayed for relief.
Dylan didn’t leave my side. He sat down on the floor beside me for God knows how long— holding my hand, rubbing my back in soothing circles when I was bent over the toilet, and cleaning me up afterwards.
He was comforting in a way that was so kind and caring, I finally gave in and rested my head against his shoulder.
It was more satisfying than I would ever admit to lean on someone else for a change.
I closed my eyes again to rest until I heard my phone ring.
“Can you get that? It might be my daughter. It’s on the nightstand,” I whispered hoarsely.
Dylan hopped up and left the bathroom.
“Hello,” he answered as he stood in the doorway.
“…Max can’t come to the phone, he’s not feeling well…
Stomach bug or food poisoning, I’m not sure, but he can’t talk.
Is this urgent? Then he’ll call you back.
” Dylan paused, and I wondered who he was talking to until I heard him say Dante’s name and rolled my eyes.
Fuck, not now.
“Who am I?” Dylan muttered. “Dylan…Yes, I know but Max can’t talk to you, as I told you, he’s sick…Well, sick enough that a doctor is on his way to see to him. Now if you don’t mind, I want to make sure he’s okay. He’ll call you back in a few hours when he’s better.”
Dylan came back into the bathroom with a blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders. “Your ex-husband couldn’t understand that you’re in no shape to talk. Does Dante listen to anyone but himself?”
“No,” I mumbled, as I continued to shake. “He loves the sound of his own voice. What did he want?”
“He needs help filling out Blake’s pre-registration form for fall programs.”
“That can wait… not… not due until August 1st. Th…Thank you for talking to him.”
“He was pissed I didn’t give in and put you on the phone.”
“Pain…in the ass. Sorry,” I whispered.
“No problem, I’m always happy to play the bad guy. It’s what I do for a living,” Dylan joked as he picked up the face cloth and rinsed it again.
“Not the time…for your…c-crappy jokes.” I managed to speak through chattering teeth.
“You really think this is food poisoning?” Dylan asked.
“P-pretty sure,” I stuttered.
“Good. Well, not good, but I’d hate to think all this was a reaction to my kiss,” he quipped, and I held my stomach.
“Please don’t make me laugh…hurts too much.”
“Glad I can offer comic relief.”
Dylan sat down beside me and slid his hand into mine. This time, he interlocked our fingers and squeezed tight and another shiver—one that had nothing to do with being sick—overtook me.
God, why did that feel so good? I detested hand holding or PDA of any kind, even when I was in love with Dante.
But at this moment, there was nothing I wanted more than to hold Dylan’s hand.
That, and I wanted to curl up in his arms, to listen to more of his self-deprecating humor.
To rest my cheek on his chest and listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
To kiss him again. God, I couldn’t believe the thoughts running through my fevered mind.
Was I delirious or had I caught something else?
Dylan’s phone chirped, jolting me out of my silly daydreams. He removed his hand, and I felt the loss of it more than I’d care to admit.
“The doctor is boarding the tender. He’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“Thank God.”
“Do you need anything?” he asked as he ran one hand through my hair, rubbing and massaging my scalp. It felt so good. I wanted to rub up against him and purr like a needy cat. I settled for a sigh of relief and found my home on his shoulder again.
I shook my head. “Talk to me. Tell me a story. Something we can use in the book.”
“Well, I could start with the audition for my first movie role,” Dylan replied.
“I hadn’t slept the night before because I was so nervous, so I scarfed down a huge breakfast to be sure I had enough energy.
I get to the audition, and the assistant tells me they’re running behind.
I keep reviewing my lines and an hour later, I finally get called in.
I’m standing in front of the casting agent, reading out my lines with the actor who was trying out for the female lead.
I’m doing great, declaring my character’s undying love with such heartfelt promise that I know this role is mine.
Until my stomach lets out a growl, not unlike the sound yours made before you barfed, and a huge belch just unleashes.
Right in the actor’s face, just when I was leaning in to kiss her. ”
I barked out a laugh despite my pain. “Oh my God. How did you recover from that?”
“I made a joke then took her in my arms, just like the script said. That’s what they want, you need to roll with it. The show must go on.”
I gave a small smile as I looked up at him. Our faces were so close at this angle I could see the tiny freckles that dotted along his nose and cheekbones and the long, dark lashes that framed his luminous eyes.
Then I remembered why I was sitting on this floor and reared back. I needed a toothbrush and mouthwash, stat.
“You think you could help me get up? I’d like to brush my teeth before the good doctor arrives.”
“Sure thing.” Dylan held out his arm and I clung to him, my legs so shaky I thought for sure I’d slide right back down the wall again.
He wrapped his arm around my waist and placed mine over his shoulder. “You’re still unsteady. Just lean on me while you’re standing up.” Dylan guided me to the sink and passed me the toothbrush and paste, then the mouthwash. Minty freshness never tasted so good.
“Do you think your stomach is okay enough for you to sit in the bedroom now?” he asked me.
“It’s been a half hour, so let’s try it.”
Guiding me over to the bed, I sat down and stretched out while Dylan covered me with the duvet. I could still hear rumbles going on down under, so I didn’t want to get too comfy, but it felt so good to relax on a soft bed instead of a cold tile floor.
A knock at the door startled me and my stomach heaved again. Dylan opened the door to a middle-aged man with shaggy blonde hair and a large duffle bag.
“I’m Dr. Julian Dourot. I’m here to see Max.”
“Come on in,” Dylan responded and stepped aside. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
The doctor gave Dylan a double take as he walked away but quickly opened his bag and pulled out his stethoscope, giving me his full attention.
“Hello, Max. Jana tells me you’ve been sick with a stomach bug.”
“I think it’s food poisoning. I had raw oysters last night and then a few hours later I was horrendously sick to my stomach. I can’t keep anything down and I feel like I have a fever.”
Dr. Dourot shook his head, long strands of hair falling into his eyes.
“Love them, but if you get a bad one, look out. I’m going to take your temperature and start you on a saline drip to get your fluids up as well as an IV anti-nauseant.
I’m also going to do a quick exam. We’ll have you feeling better in no time. ”
With practiced moves, he set up the IV and did an exam to see if I had further abdominal pain and asked me about a million questions. An hour later, I felt my core temperature cooling. My nausea grew fainter, and the stomach cramps eased.
“Your temperature is almost normal, and you haven’t vomited for over an hour so that’s progress,” Dr. Dourot commented as he went about asking me more questions and taking my blood pressure.
“I’m going to stay on board for another hour or two, just to make sure things are moving in the right direction and check on you one last time. I think you’re over the worst of it.”
“Thank God for good news,” Dylan commented as he sauntered back into the bedroom. My eyes ate up his jean-clad legs and his broad chest in a tight white t-shirt. How was it that he grew prettier with each passing moment?
“How you doing, Doc?” Dylan asked me as he sat on the edge of the bed and my heart began to race again.
If I wasn’t so tired from being violently ill, I would’ve done something stupid like pull him down unto the bed with me, consequences be damned.
Could I ask to hold his hand again? Would that be weird? Yes, most definitely.
“Doc? I didn’t realize you were a doctor,” Dr. Dourot commented before I had a chance to reply to Dylan.
“Of philosophy. I teach English at the university level,” I replied but all my attention was on Dylan.
“I came down to see if you were up to some chicken broth and crackers. Don’t worry, Lisette made the broth, not me.” Dylan held his hands up.
“That sounds great. Thanks, Dylan.” My stomach gurgled, and I hoped to hell it was hunger pains and not another round of revolt.
He nodded at me and wandered back out while Dr. Dourot packed up his bag.
“I’m going to sit up on deck while you try out the broth. If you can keep that down, you should be okay.” He paused and turned to the door. “Dylan is a friend of yours?”
“Yes.”
“He looks familiar.”
“He’s got that kind of face,” I lied. What the good doctor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. I hoped they’d had him sign an NDA before he boarded, just in case.
“He’s incredibly gorgeous. I wonder if he’s single?”
My stomach heaved in response. Unfortunately, I had bad aim and missed the doctor.
It was a close call though—if his surprised yelp was any indication.