By the time the sun comes up, we're both exhausted, dehydrated, and pretty sure we're dying.
“I need ginger ale,” I rasp, dragging myself out of bed. “And crackers… maybe some Sprite.”
Hope just nods weakly from the bed.
I throw on sweats and a t-shirt and head downstairs to the hotel convenience store. The fluorescent lights make my head pound harder. I shuffle like a zombie when I spot Chaos and Colt near the refrigerated section, who both look as bad as I feel.
“You too?” Chaos groans when he sees me.
“Yeah,” I mutter, grabbing a bottle of ginger ale. “Hope and I have been up all night.”
“Same,” Colt says, leaning against the shelf like it's the only thing keeping him upright. “Fucking brutal.”
Stitch appears from around the corner with his medical bag, looking slightly less green than the rest of us.
“Food poisoning,” he announces. “Pretty sure the short ribs were left out too long before they were served. I've been getting texts all morning. Half the wedding party is down.”
“Fuck,” I groan.
“Here.” Stitch hands me a bottle of anti-nausea medication and some electrolyte packets. “Get these into you and Hope. Stay hydrated the best you can. You'll feel like shit for another twelve hours, but you should be okay by tomorrow.”
“The wedding's in four days,” I say weakly.
Stitch claps me on the shoulder. “Then you better rest up, brother.”
I grab extra ginger ale, some crackers, and head back upstairs. Hope is right where I left her, curled up in bed, looking miserable.
“Got supplies,” I say, setting everything on the nightstand.
Hope sighs. “You're my hero.”
We both take the medicine Stitch gave me and sip on some ginger ale. While I give the medicine time to settle, I make a quick call down to housekeeping and ask them to leave a fresh change of bed linens at the door.
“Why don’t we go hop in the shower and get this stink off of us?” I suggest.
Hope doesn’t look convinced but takes my hand anyway. We help each other into the bathroom, strip down, and stand under the warm spray. There’s nothing remotely sexy about showering together when we're both too sick and exhausted, but it feels good to wash away the sweat and misery.
After we’re all dried off and brush away the grime from our teeth, I open the door to fresh sheets. We quickly strip the biohazard sheets off the bed and put on the clean ones. We crawl back under covers, clean and slightly more human. Hope curls into my side, her head on my chest, and I wrap my arms around her.
“So,” she says softly. “This is us, food poisoning a few days before our wedding.”
I huff a weak laugh. “Yep. This is us.”
“Think we'll make it down the aisle?”
“Darlin’, I'd crawl down that aisle if I had to.”
She smiles against my chest. “Me too.”
We're quiet for a moment, and then Hope says, “You know what I keep thinking about?”
“What?”
“Our honeymoon. You and me, alone together.”
“Sounds perfect,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere,” she whispers. “As long as I'm with you.”
