Loren’s expression lightens. “You didn’t have to do that.”
I let out a sigh. “It’d be a sin to let it go to waste, don’t you think?”
That fondness in her gaze grows more sympathetic, and I can almost guess what she’s thinking before she speaks again. “You’re entirely too nice. You know that, right?”
There it is.
I grit my teeth and hope it looks like a smile, because that’s about all I have the energy for at this point. “Thanks. Would you excuse me for a second, though? I’m going to hit the men’s room before I get back on the road.”
“Yeah, that’s probably smart, since you’ve got, like, a two-hour drive home,” she mumbles as I stand.
And I don’t need to glance back to know she’s replying to Blake’s texts before I can even round the corner.
CLAIRE
“Uh … ma’am? Are you okay?”
An alarm goes off in my head once it registers with me—the voice coming from the other side of the bathroom stall door is entirely too deep for my current surroundings.
I clench my core muscles, but it’s too late. I’m already mid-pee and mid-cry. I have no choice but to let go and finish my business. I cringe as the trickling tapers off and clear the emotion from my throat.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I call out awkwardly once I’m done.
“Okay, then,” the stranger with very masculine feet replies.
“May I ask why you’re asking?” I venture.
He shifts, pointing the toes of his shoes in a different direction before turning back toward the stall. “Because you just ran into the men’s restroom looking very upset … and very much like a lady.”
“Who you callin’ a lady?” I force out, imitating his low timbre.
Those dress shoes shuffle around again before he answers. “The person who just sat to use the toilet, I suppose.”
His humor catches me off guard, and I barely manage to hold in an inappropriately loud laugh. “Actually, I’m hovering. See how much you know.”
“I beg your pardon, sir. That’s what I get for assuming,” he replies, stifling a laugh of his own.
But I dampen the mood with a whimper as soon as I make the mistake of looking down. Even though I knew what I’d find, I’m still devastated by it.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” my bathroom buddy asks after I’m unable to hold back a quiet sob, his voice much gentler this time.
“I don’t suppose you have a tampon on you?”
“Ah, no, I’m sorry. But hang on, and I’ll see what I can do.”
He almost sounds more disappointed that he doesn’t have what I need than bothered by the word “tampon.” I furrow my brow when I see his feet moving.
“I was just kidding, you know. You don’t?—”
“No, really. I’ll be right back. Okay?”
“Okay,” I concede, my voice barely above a whisper.
His footsteps on the tiled floor and a squeaky hinge from the swinging door usher in the silence, and my frustrated growl echoes across the empty bathroom.
I’ll give this guy two minutes before I default to using the old rolled-up toilet paper trick until I get home. Then again, Jeremy won’t want to leave until he’s done with his dinner, regardless of how I’m feeling.
The door creaks open again, my spirits lifting when I think it’s my knight in shining armor returning to save me from bleeding out. But my shoulders sag as soon as a pair of cowboy boots drifts past my stall. Normally, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from cracking a joke in a situation this embarrassing and awkward. But I guess I’m feeling a little more vulnerable than usual tonight, because I instinctively lift my feet and keep silent as the intruder makes use of the urinal.
