I lean over the toilet bowl and close my eyes.
My body is exhausted, and I know I can’t keep doing this.
I need to tell him?—
A knock sounds on the door, and I freeze.
“Ciara?” Ronan calls out, his voice laced with concern. “Are you all right?”
I lift my head and wipe my mouth with a trembling hand.
“I’m fine.” The words barely make it out before another wave of nausea has me heaving over the side of the toilet.
“Ciara?” The door handle rattles, and Ronan curses when he finds it locked. “Open the door.”
“I’m okay,” I manage to choke out. “It’s just a stomach bug or something.”
There’s silence for a moment, and then he sighs, low and frustrated. “I’m calling the doctor.”
“No! It’s passing; I already feel better than I did earlier.”
“Bullshit.”
I rest my head on the seat again and try to breathe through the nausea. “I’ll be fine, Ronan, I promise.”
There’s another pause, and then his voice softens, the frustration giving way to worry. “I was going to head into the city, but maybe I should stay home today, just until?—”
“No. You’ve got too much going on. I’ll be okay.”
I try to stand, but my legs are shaking, so I have to grip the edge of the sink for support.
Ronan doesn’t answer right away. I can imagine him standing there, jaw clenched, fists probably balled at his sides because he can’t fix this. Ronan hates not being in control, especially when it comes to me, but this is one thing he can’t manage his way out of.
Finally, he exhales as he realizes I’m not going to give in to his demands.
“Fine. I’ll leave the doctor’s number on the kitchen counter, and if you get worse, you callimmediately. Got it?”
“Got it.”
There’s another moment of hesitation, and then his footsteps move away from the door.
I exhale slowly before turning on the tap and splashing some cold water on my face, knowing that I’ve just bought myself some more time.
But at some point, that time will run out.
After cleaning myself up,I crawl back into bed and nap for an hour or two.
When I wake, the bedroom is fully flooded with sunlight, and my head is throbbing from dehydration.
I’m just about to psyche myself up to head downstairs in search of water and maybe an electrolyte packet when a soft knock sounds at the door, and I groan, wondering if Ronan decided to change his plans after all.
“I’m fine!” I call out as I bury deeper under the covers.
The door opens slowly, and when Ronan doesn’t make some comment about my health, I frown.
Peering over the top of the covers, I find Stephen standing in the doorway holding a steaming mug of tea.
He holds out the mug. “I figured you could use this.”
