When my body finally slumps against the stall wall again, there is a quiet knock at the door.
“Miss Wilde?”
Can a girl catch a fucking break? There’s no doubt the man heard me vomiting and in what feels like the worst possible show of politeness, waited until I was done to interrupt. The door props open and a detached arm holding a bottle ofHydrateand some baby wipes appears and drops the goodies on the chair near the exit. Noah clears his throat as a crimson heat melts through me. Baby wipes? The man brought me fuckingbaby wipes.
I didn’t think this morning could get worse, but he totally thinks I shit myself. Jesus fucking Christ.
“I feel it would be best to uh, postpone the rest of our meeting until tomorrow . . . at least. Is there anything else I can get for you? Can I call you a ride?”
The wave of embarrassment deepens as I muster every ounce of grace I can manage.
“No. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
My voice is raw and I shiver under my own hot, acidic breath.
“You didn’t, uh . . . youdon’tsound fine. It’s really no trouble. I’ll call a car and have them take you home. Is your address updated in your personnel file?”
Of course he’s being nice; he just witnessed my entire body revolt against me and was a victim of what I can only assume was a rank post-taquito cloud. I should take him up—a private car is better than public transportation. My stomach twists again at the thought of sitting in my usual seat on a packed, musty bus. Sighing, I relent.
“Yes, it’s up to date. Thank you.”
“Of course. If you can stomach it, drink thatHydrate, it should help. You are losing a lot of electrolytes.”
“Right. Of course.”
The door swings shut and I groan, flopping onto my ass and rolling my head against the stall wall. Apparently the gas bubble was all that’s left of the issues down south; post vomit I feel shaky, but otherwise stable. The door swings open again and I sit up in a rush, the thought of him seeing me sprawled out on the bathroom floor somehow more embarrassing than the entirety of last night and this morning.
“Did you say something?”
Pinching my eyes shut against the humiliation of him mistaking my cavewoman grunts for actual words, I shake my head and a chuckle rolls up. “No.”
“Oh. Well. I thought—never mind. The car should be here in about ten minutes. They’ll wait downstairs until you’re, uh, ready.”
Until I’m not a vomit spouting gas fest, he means.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Oh god. I willneverspeak of this again.”
A stifled chuckle reverberates across the white stone floor, and Noah’s voice is considerably lighter when he responds.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Wilde.”
“Lottie. I think you’ve earned the right to call me Lottie.”
“If you insist . . . Lottie.”
The door swings shut again, leaving me alone to contemplate my life choices and the sound of my name in Noah’s velvet tone.
“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you’re making it sound,” Kara says, handing me another cool washrag.
I sit up and look at her squarely. “I almost shit my pants, and thenhe heard me barfing my guts up for the hundredth time. And you’re forgetting this is after everything that happened last night. I will never live this down. I should email him right now and quit. It’s not worth the humiliation. I have money saved; let’s move to Costa Rica like we always say we should. Sunshine all the time and plenty of tequila to help me forget this horror of a day.”
“If I recall, tequila is what got you into this mess.” Kara laughs.
I groan and flop back onto the couch, pressing the rag to my eyes.
