Page 38 of Man Flu

Chapter Ten

Thursday … Friday Eve. Yeah, we’ll go with that

IF I HAD MY CAR, I could convince myself that this was all just a bad nightmare, but I don’t have my car. I’m in his car, and the nightmare is still alive. “Are you hanging in there?” he asks, halfway to the office. It’s the first time he’s spoken to me since we got into his truck.

“I’m fine,” I respond in a way that mirrors his coolness.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today, boss?”

We’re all the way back there now. I shouldn’t care. I should focus on the discomfort of having this completely out-of-my-league man sitting just a car seat away from me. It’s not like I have a chance, had a chance, or ever will, so the nerves and whatever else is floating through my intestines right now should just go away.

“Um, just preparation for the event next week.” I think I need to stop talking. It’s suddenly apparent that speaking is only highlighting the internal battle between my organs, making their sore presence known.

“You look like you’re pretty deep in thought over there.”

I am. More than he knows. “I—don’t know. I’m just trying to wake up, I guess.”

“We have time for coffee,” he says.

Coffee will loosen things up in my gut; not so sure I need that after this morning’s blowout, but if I don’t caffeinate, I’ll have a migraine before noon. There is no winning. None. Tea, maybe that’ll be the easiest on my stomach. I don’t normally drink tea, but I’ve wanted to give it a try. I pull out my phone and start a Google search for, “Does tea cause the shits.” I’m super classy this morning, but I need to get a direct answer to this question.

“No, tea does not cause the shits,” Logan says, stifling a laugh.

I close my eyes slowly, twist my head, and look over at him. “How did you see that from over there?”

“Your text is quite large for a woman your age. I just glanced over, and there was your question. You don’t need Google, you can just ask me.” He’s smirking, and while I enjoyed his smirk at one point yesterday, I’m not enjoying it right now. He’s making fun of me and knows I’m worried about shitting myself.

“So, I’m at the point right now where I want to leave the state and cross out any chance of ever running into you again after what you’ve witnessed in the last day. That’s how I feel. Except, I can’t do that because I have a job, a daughter who can’t leave the state without permission from her father, and a mortgage, which means I’m stuck.”

“Why does this all bother you so much?” he asks, simply. I’m sure he’d be totally fine if I watched the bowels of hell expelling from his body yesterday.

“I’m mortified,” I tell him.

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t even want my ex-husband seeing what happened yesterday, and he watched me giving birth. That’s why, never mind … you.”

“Have you considered that may be the reason he’s your ex-husband?”

Did he just go there? He did. He totally just went there. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t mean it in a rude way,” he says, peering into the rearview mirror as he switches lanes. “It’s just that … if you’re so closed off, maybe that put a barrier between you and Rick, you know?”

“From one divorcée to another, do you really think you should be giving me advice? Especially since I was cheated on and replaced by some Barbie bimbo, who can hardly spell her name. What’s your excuse? Where did you go so wrong, Mr. Perfect?” I snap at him defensively.

He stalls, looks over at me, and swallows hard, before returning his gaze to the road. “I never said I was perfect.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“I know why my marriage went down the shitter. That’s the difference between the two of us.”

I reposition myself in my seat, feeling the heat rise through my neck and into the backs of my ears. “How do you have the nerve to make that kind of assumption after knowing me less than a week and having very few facts about my life to go on?”

“I’ve seen a lot in the last week,” he says.

“So, you’re blaming me for getting cheated on? I just want to make sure I’m understanding you correctly. I guess Rick is still as slick as ever with his greasy salesman spiels. I should have known you’d take his side when I heard you two laughing together yesterday.”

“I didn’t say that,” he says.