Lifting my head off the pillow, I looked around. “Oh my God, now I’m hearing things. The alcohol has wormed its way into my eardrums. Ice cream doesn’t do this kind of damage. Cookies are friendly. Snacks are kind and comforting. They don’t make me hear things. They don’t… Ow.”
I needed to stop talking. Talking hurt.
The doorbell rang again. This time, I sat up. I wasn’t really hearing things. The doorbell had actually rung. Who would ring my doorbell at this hour? I didn’t have any friends or family in town. Nobody loved me. Nobody cared.
Oh, wait.
Hobbling my way to the door, I peeked through the peephole. “Joe, is that you?” I croaked.
“Beautiful day,” he sang out from the other side of the door. “Beautiful day to ride a bike.”
Holy crap. Not only had I agreed to a bike ride, I had agreed to do it while I had terminal hangoveritis.
Joe lifted a drink holder in view of the peephole. “But first, I brought mochas and bear claws. Cycling is much better with mocha and a bear claw on a stomach.”
All of a sudden, my hangover nausea lifted. Mocha and a bear claw? Joe was my hero.
“I’m going to open the door,” I announced. “Close your eyes.”
I opened the door, and true to his word, Joe kept his eyes closed. “You caught me,” he said. “I lied about the bear claws. I got you two, not one.”
Grabbing his arm, I pulled him into the house and closed the door. “I’m going to let you open your eyes now. But remember this is not my fault. I’m not used to drinking, and I fell into peer pressure. I’m sure I look worse than I feel, so there’s at least a sixty percent chance that you will turn to stone when you see me.”
“I’m very brave,” he told me with his eyes closed.
“Okay. Open ‘em.”
He opened his eyes, and I slouched down, trying to hide, and bracing myself for his comments about devil alcohol or that my hair looked like I had put my finger in a light socket, or that I had residual vomit or drool on my shirt.
But Joe didn’t flinch or scan me for damage or do the smallest grimace. He held up the bag of donuts. “As I promised,” he announced. “Should I put them on the counter?”
I pointed at the kitchen. He put the bag and the mochas down. I hopped to it and took out a couple of plates. “Should we eat in here or on the couch?” he asked.
Since the couch had the remains of my night on it, I thought we should eat in the dining room like grownups. Then, I remembered that Steve and Tight Tammy had cleared the furniture out of the dining room. I still had stools at the kitchen counter, so I chose the kitchen. I sat down, and Joe dragged one of the other stools to the other side of the counter so we could face each other.
“Bear claws are my favorite,” he said, taking a large bite of one of them. Donuts with sprinkles were my favorite, but I decided to keep that to myself. After all, Joe might think I was ungrateful, or that I didn’t like bear claws, and I was planning on inhaling both of my bear claws. I had a theory they would cure my hangover. Broccoli and Brussel sprouts drinks were bull-hockey, but donuts could cure any ill.
I took a sip of the mocha. It was heaven. Heavy on the mocha and sugar, light on the coffee. But just enough of the coffee to whirr my brain out of the fog. I closed my eyes and made a primal, guttural noise.
“I know the owner of the coffee place,” Joe said. “Debra. She’s a Delivery Happiness regular, too. Wonderful woman. She lost her husband after fifty years of marriage. A month after his memorial, she opened the shop. Debra had never worked outside of the home before, but it was her dream. Coffee and baked goods. She’s a whiz with scones, too.”
“She lost her husband? What did he die from?”
“Oh, he didn’t die. At least, they didn’t find a body. She literally lost him on a whale-watching trip.”
I gasped. “He went overboard?”
“Nope,” Joe said, shaking his head. “He disappeared before he got on board. She turned around, and he wasn’t there. Lost.”
Biting into my first bear claw, I thought about Debra and lost husbands. There were so many ways to lose a husband. Death, murder, abduction, and personal trainers. Once I got into shape, I was going to find my husband again and not lose him again. Hmmm…a tiny, worrisome doubt knocked on my brain, wondering how I wouldn’t lose him, again, but I shoved the doubt away with another bite of the bear claw.
“It’s really delicious,” I said. “I’m glad Debra got into business.”
I wasn’t lying. It was delicious and working miracles. Hudson could have his smoothie, egg white habits, but they didn’t do a thing against a hangover. For that, only deep-fried, sugary dough would do.
After the donuts and coffee, Joe waited for me while I took a quick shower and changed for our bike ride. I found a baseball cap in the closet. It helped to cover up a portion of my face, which was a good thing today.
“You look the part for a bike ride, Eliza,” Joe said, approving when I returned downstairs. “Sporty. Wait until you see the day. Sweeter than bear claws.”
