Chapter 26
Ifeel like my stomach is churning butter, but it’s not. It’s churning the other stuff. The stuff that makes you run to the toilet and wish you were dead. Food poisoning. That has to be what this is. No human being would ever be this sick unless they were poisoned.
Two soft knocks tap against the door of my apartment. It’s Matt. I know it’s Matt even though I told him not to come.
“I told you not to come,” I say as I stumble to the door.
He’s dressed business casual—rocket scientist attire, minus the nerdy glasses you’d envision. His brown eyes are kind as he shakes his head back and forth. If he loved me before, he’s surely rethinking that connection now. I might have throw up in my hair. My hand touches a few strands at my shoulder that feel crusty. I definitely have throw up in my hair.
“I told you not to come,” I repeat because the first time I said it, the door was closed.
He leans his shoulder against the doorframe, looking all sexy. “Someone needs to take care of you.”
“I told you, Chelsea will be back late tonight.”
“I checked her flight. She won’t be home until 3 AM.”
He checked her flight? Cute.
“Okay, fine, you can come in.” I open the door wider and hobble back to the couch, suddenly aware of how dirty my apartment is. Not messy, but dirty. Matt and I have only been dating for eight months. It’s too soon for him to see this level of uncleanliness from me, but what’s done is done.
I flop back down on the couch, picking up my throw-up bowl, and next thing I know, Matt’s spreading a blanket out on top of me.
“What do you need?” he asks.
I close my eyes. “I’m fine. See? I told you not to come.”
“Okay,” he says, walking away.
I peek one eye open. Is he leaving? No, just moving around. No, wait. He’s doing the dishes.
“Don’t clean!” I mumble. “You’ll get your rocket scientist shirt dirty.”
He laughs. “I think it’ll be fine.”
Okay.
I surrender, but only because I’m churning butter inside my stomach.
For the next few hours, I go in and out of consciousness as Matt cleans around me, and he’s good at it. I think I saw him using a toothpick to get the grime around my faucet. If the whole NASA thing doesn’t work out, he could earn a living as a maid. He also cleaned the bathroom. I know because the toilet bowl smelled significantly better the last time I threw up, and the splashes from earlier were gone. Matt cleaned up my throw-up splashes. I’ve never had anyone do anything like this for me. No one has ever taken care of me.
“Matt,” I say, grabbing his pants as he walks by the couch. I open my eyes enough to see his face. “I love you.”
I haven’t said that to him yet, even though he said it to me two months ago. It’s just been lingering in the air like some awkward thing.
He smiles big. “I love you too, Remi.”
I close my eyes again. “You must.”
There’s a part of me that hates myself for confessing my love to a man after he cleaned my apartment and took care of me when I was sick. I’ve always rolled my eyes at stuff like that, but it’s a real thing.
I’m in love, and there’s no point denying it anymore.