While still puking, she reached back to swat my hands away, but I didn’t remove them. I shouldn’t have smiled at a time like this, but I couldn’t help it; it repaired a tiny piece of my heart to know she still had some spunk in her.
A few minutes later, the heaving began to slow. When it finally stopped completely, her body sagged against me. Releasing her hair, I sat down on the floor behind her and pulled her into my lap, cradling her in my arms. We sat in silence for a while, my wife's head resting against my chest.
“You should have woken me.” I brushed the hair back that had fallen into her face with one hand and kissed her forehead. “Do you think you have the flu?”
She gave a small shrug, then said, “Or maybe it’s the food.”
We’d both ordered the French dip with fries, and it didn’t seem to be bothering me, so I wasn’t sure that was it.
“I hate seeing you sick,” I told her, dropping another kiss on her, this time the top of her head.
Patience squirmed a bit in my embrace. “You’ve got to stop kissing me! I have vomit splattered all over me, and I stink.”
“I wouldn’t care if you were covered in vomit from head to toe—I’d still kiss you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”
“Nothing will keep me away from you, but how about a shower?”
Tilting her head back, she looked up at me with red, tiredeyes. “I don’t think I have the energy for us in the shower right now.”
My girl had a slight tease in her voice; she was trying to joke with me but didn’t quite pull it off due to her lack of energy.
“I promise to be on my best behavior and just wash your hair for you.” I sniffed a couple of times. “‘Cause you do kinda stink,” I told her playfully.
“Brat,” she said, with a little more oomph in her voice.
I chuckled but didn’t deny her assessment as I slowly moved her off my lap so we could both stand up. Once on our feet, I walked over and turned on the water to warm up before walking back to stand in front of Patience.
“How is your stomach feeling?” I asked as I gently pulled off the shirt—mine—she’d put on over her head.
When the fabric cleared her face, so I could see her again, she looked like she wanted to say something important. But all that came out was, “It settled a little bit.”
I stared at her for a beat, trying to figure out what she wasn’t telling me. She was holding something back, and it was eating at her. For the time being, I decided not to push.
“You know if you’re not feeling well, you don’t have to go with me today… Or I could just postpone the whole thing,” I told her as I leaned down and slid her panties off her legs.
Standing back up straight—being the perfect gentleman and ignoring my wife's lush body while she was sick—I was met with those red eyes again. Only this time, it wasn’t just from being sick. No, now they were fueled with fire—directed right at me.
With her hands on the perfect curve of each hip, her voice raised a couple of octaves, and she let me have it. “No way in hell are you not going, buster. And you will not be leaving me behind!” Staring me down, she didn’t waver. “You got it?”
I didn’t know whether to take a step back to get away from her, laugh because she said ‘hell’—something she usually refrained from—which amused me even though it meant she was pissed, or kiss my wife senseless.
Raising my palms in surrender, I tried to hide the smirk pulling at my mouth. “Okay, I got it,” I told her as I dropped my hands and removed my boxers. “I will go and promise not to leave you behind.”
Her hands left her hips, and she pointed a finger at me. “Don’t think I don’t see you trying to hide that smile.”
That made it impossible to hold in. Along with the amused smile that slipped free, laughter followed.
Patience huffed and stomped her foot, which only made me chuckle harder. That foot-stomping shit she did when mad was cute as hell.
“I’m taking a shower, and you’re not invited,” she said in mock outrage as she tried to pass me.
She wasn’t truly mad, I knew that for a fact, because I could read my girl like a book. Just like I knew she was hiding something from me that I was going to figure out or get her to cop to. But even though she rallied a little, I could still tell she wasn’t feeling well.
Stepping in front of her, I blocked her path. “Baby, you’re not showering without me.” I grabbed both her hands in mine. “I want to take care of you.”
Her eyes softened. “Okay,” she said quietly.
