“June!” His voice was laced with concern.
He rushed to me and lifted my hair that fell into my face. I tried to speak, but another heave seized my entire body, and I threw up again into the bowl.
I felt his thumb drawing soothing circles on my nape as he held my hair up for me.
Placing my hands on the floor on both sides of my knees, I panted, my body slowly calming down.
“Can you get up?” Angelo asked, crouching next to me and rubbing my back.
I nodded, my head still hanging low.
He got up first, held me under my arms, and lifted me to my feet.
I wiped my face and covered my mouth with the towel.
He pulled me into his arms, and I burrowed into him, drawing comfort from his warmth and strength.
“What happened?”
“It’s nothing. Just …” I released myself and aimed for the sink. With his hand on my elbow, Angelo helped me get there.
“Something you ate?” He half-smiled at me through the mirror.
“Maybe,” I croaked, though I knew it wasn’t that. I averted my gaze from him in the mirror to my own face. I looked horrendous—gray skin, red eyes, my hair a mess.
“You look beautiful,” he said with another soft smile, maybe noticing how I scrutinized myself and pitying me.
I turned on the tap and washed my face. From the corner of my eyes, I saw him flushing the toilet. I cringed at the thought of Angelo seeing the mess I had left there.
“I have to brush my teeth; would you mind?” I asked, wiping my face again and pointing with my chin toward the door.
He was seated on the edge of the sofa bed, facing the bathroom, when I emerged.
“What happened to you?” He got to his feet.
“Nothing. I’m better now. Thanks for …” I gestured with my head toward the bathroom.
“In sickness and in health, June.” A soft half-smile flashed on his lips.
I closed my eyes for a moment. The words hurt. Sudden, stupid pain, like with the words on the card.
“I’d better get into bed. If you don’t mind … until I fall asleep.” I somehow knew he’d understand, even if I didn’t ask him specifically to get out.
“Will you be okay here?” He understood me without words.
“Yes, thank you.” I needed him to be gone, because what I really wanted was for him to hold me, as I had briefly let him do in the bathroom.
He stepped toward me, rubbed his hand on my shoulder, then left and locked the door behind him.
I fell asleep to the sound of his guitar quietly playing downstairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I woke up the next morning, it was almost eight a.m. I’d missed the window for jogging. That seldom happened to me.
I got dressed quietly and left for work without looking at Angelo. The sight of him shirtless on the beach yesterday, the touch and scent of his body when he’d held me, the words on the card, the words on his skin, the marriage vow he’d quoted last night, were enough and too much for me to know that if I didn’t want to make a complete fool of myself, I shouldn’t be looking at him.
Which was why I had initially used his time in the shower yesterday to put up a literal wall between us.
