“Do you think you’re going to throw up any more?”
I shake my head again. I haven’t thrown up in a least an hour, but I also haven’t tried moving either. I hear the soft clink of a glass and then feel his arms wrap me up as he lifts me off the floor, effortlessly as usual. I lay my head against his chest until he shifts me in his arms. I feel the bathroom countertop underneath my thighs as he sets me down on it and settles between my legs.
He picks up the glass of water and holds it out to me with the two pills in his other hand. “Take these. It’ll help. And we’ll get you some ginger ale on the plane for your stomach.”
I swallow the pills and drink close to half the glass before setting it down next to me. My head drops forward and my shoulders slouch. “I hate having you see me like this.”
He laughs quietly. “Like what?
I tuck my hair behind my ear and groan, keeping my eyes on my legs. “Like a train wreck. This isn’t like me; I can usually hold my alcohol. I don’t think I’ve gotten sick since the singing-telegram tequila incident.” My stomach churns at the word tequila. That hateful bitch and I can’t be in the same room together. I bring my fingers up to my face and begin massaging my temples. “What time do we have to leave?”
“Soon. The cabs will be here in thirty minutes.” His hands run down my bare arms, gently applying pressure. “Can I do anything else? Do you need anything?”
I shake my head before dropping it against his chest. “Just you.”
He presses a kiss to my hair. “You got me.”
The sound of our bedroom door opening alerts us both, and Ian emerges in the bathroom doorway. He surveys my pathetic condition as he leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms and his ankles. “What the hell did you and Juls drink last night? She’s been throwing up since 3:00 a.m.”
I shrug, barely moving my shoulders an inch. All my strength seems to have left me. “Just champagne. We had some wine at the spa, but not enough to make us sick.” I grab onto Reese and slide off the countertop. “Let me go see her.”
I pull my hair into a messy bun as I walk through our bedroom and into the hallway. My head still feels like it’s in a vise, but my stomach seems to have settled. I see the suitcases lined up outside the rooms, ready to be taken out. Four suitcases. Reese, Ian, Juls, me. Where are the others? Joey’s door is still closed and I panic that he and Billy might oversleep and miss the flight. Without knocking, or thinking, I open his door and barge in like I own the damn place.
Three heads pop up in the bed. Three very startled heads. And one of those heads becomes very alarmed being sandwiched between the other two.
“Brooke! What in the fuck are you doing in here?” Joey grabs the covers and pulls them up into his lap, covering him and Billy.
“Relax, baby. You invited her,” Billy says, before lying back on his pillow.
Joey looms over him. “I sure as shit didn’t. Did you?”
Billy grimaces before rolling over, pulling the covers over his head.
Brooke rubs her eyes and smiles. “You invited me, Joey. You also called me fabulous, I think, and said I’m welcome to join you guys anytime you go out.” She slips out of bed, revealing herself in a man’s T-shirt that barely covers the line of her panties. She flattens her palm against her forehead, frowning. “Oh, hello, hangover.”
“I would never invite you to share a bed with us. And get the hell out of my T-shirt. That’s one of my favorites.”