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“You once told me the stock market sounded like people arguing about numbers for sport.”

I stare at her.

She raises one eyebrow.

“Fine,” I say. “Change it.”

“Gladly.”

She exits the channel and scrolls through a streaming service. A romantic comedy appears in the recommendations. Chloe skips over it immediately.

“Not happening,” she says.

I laugh softly. “What’s wrong with that one?”

“Nobody is falling in love tonight.”

She keeps scrolling until she lands on a horror movie featuring a dark cabin in the woods.

“This is perfect,” Chloe says.

“We’re watching people get murdered in a cabin. No grand declarations, no soulmates, no emotionally unavailable billionaires.”

I turn my head toward her.

Chloe freezes with the remote still in her hand. “Too soon?”

“A little.”

“Fair.”

She starts the movie anyway. I settle deeper into the sofa and pull the blanket over my legs while Chloe reaches for the bowl of popcorn she somehow managed to make while I wasn’t paying attention.

We make it about halfway through the movie before I stop paying attention completely. Chloe is still making occasional comments about how stupid every character is for staying in the cabin, but her voice starts to blur at the edges as another wave of nausea rolls through me. I sit very still for a second, hoping it will pass, but the room suddenly feels too warm and my stomach turns hard enough that I know I am out of time.

Chloe looks over at me.

“Blaire, you just went completely pale.”

“I’m fine,” I say, even as I push the blanket aside.

I barely make it to my feet before I have to hurry toward the bathroom.

Chloe follows a few steps behind me, but she gives me enough space to lean over the toilet and empty what little is left in my stomach. When it finally stops, I flush, stand carefully and rinse my mouth before splashing cold water over my face.

Chloe is waiting near the doorway with her arms folded.

“How long has this been happening?” she asks.

I reach for a towel and pat my face dry.

“On and off most of the week.”

Her expression sharpens.

“Most of the week?”

“I haven’t been keeping much down,” I admit.