Saying no was a good idea. I didn’t want to get involved with Miles Taylor, even if it was strictly fake. I certainly wasn’t nervous about my feelings getting confused, but I also read and taught books for a living. I knew what happened in every fake-dating storyline. Lots of unnecessary touching and confusion and somebody professing love and real feelings. Not on my watch.
From our brief interaction tonight, we had already kissed once on the lips (although I used the term kiss very loosely), along with a cheek kiss and a kiss on my temple. Which was too much kissing for two people who didn’t like each other. Saying no was responsible. It was me taking charge of my life and not allowing Miles to tempt me into something so clearly absurd. It was me making things right with my sister and my mom. Though, I did begin to suspect that my acting skills from earlier still hadn’t completely won either of them over. That’s it. I was going to say no.
Unfortunately, my plan to be the bigger and better person went completely out the window at 2:30 that morning.
After determining I would turn down Miles’s offer, I attempted to read on my Kindle with all the clueless naiveté of a woman unused to sleeping with children in an unfamiliar environment. I had just drifted off to sleep when Ivy began moaning and rolling around in her sleeping bag. Not wanting her to steamroll her sister and wake her up too, I crept over to her and tried several times to get her to curl up on her side of the makeshift bed. Half an hour later, after listening to all the whimpers and moans I could handle, I finally picked her up and carried her into bed with me.
Like a cat, she snuggled up against me, whimpering softly in her sleep. I just embraced the fact that I would be a zombie tomorrow and pulled her close. The response was immediate, her little arm going around me and her hot breath puffing against my neck while her body splayed out across mine. But it was all so sweet, and I let myself relish the feel of those little arms for the moment.
Without warning, hot smelly vomit began erupting from her tiny mouth all down my neck and the front of my pajamas. I sat up, gasping in shock, cringing at the feel of the warm sludge sliding farther down my body. Instantly, my body fought against the smell by dry heaving. I tried to pull it together for Ivy and began breathing through my mouth to keep down my own puke.
“Ivy, are you okay?”
Her retching had finally stopped, but her little head hung limply across my shoulder. She sniffled but gave me nothing else to go on.
“Does your tummy still hurt?”
She shook her head.
Okay. How do I handle this? Do I stand up and get it all over the house walking to the bathroom? Luckily, Chloe’s mom ears had clued in, and the door to their room opened. A few moments later, Ivy was extracted from my arms, and I heard the bathtub running. I lay there for the next few moments in my niece’s puke before the bathroom door opened and Chloe handed me a towel to wrap around myself.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered as I made my way into the bathroom for a quick shower.
“It’s fine,” I said. When the door closed, I ran to the toilet, dry heaving for several long, uncomfortable moments.
After a quick shower, I made my way back into the front room. Chloe had just laid Ivy back down in her sleeping bag on the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again as I crawled back into a bed now covered in blankets.
“It’s okay, I promise.”
“I stripped the bed, but I couldn’t find any more sheets in any of the drawers. I just put a few blankets over top. I really am so sorry.” Chloe’s hands flew to cover her face.
I reached out and touched her arm. “Chlo, it’s fine. I feel like I’ve got a mom card now.”
Chloe breathed out a tiny laugh.
“How’s Ivy?” I asked.
“I’m wondering if it was the hot dog she ate when we got home from the lodge.”
My nose wrinkled. “Most likely.”
Chloe looked like she was about ready to keel over with exhaustion.
“How are you feeling?”
“The nausea goes away when I’m sleeping, so that’s always a plus.”
I breathed out a soft laugh. “Go get some sleep. Everything’s fine out here. I promise.”
“Okay, I’ll keep the door open.”
“Good night.”
According to Chloe, children throw up whenever and wherever they please, no rhyme or reason to it. They wake up in the middle of the night, find their target, explode, and then sleep easily. I peered at Ivy warily as she inhaled the scrambled eggs Chloe set before her, as though she hadn’t emptied her insides all over me the night before.
She burped before catching my gaze and throwing me a cheeky grin. I playfully glared at her for a long moment until my smile betrayed me.
Chloe sighed and sat down on a seat next to me at the table. “Ben and I talked, and we’re going to switch you beds for the rest of the week. You should totally get your own room. If I’d know my kid would suddenly turn into a crazy puking, bed-stealer, I would have just started off with us out there.”
I stared at my sister just then. The way she was hunched over, holding her stomach like she was one step away from throwing up herself. Padding around in her slippers and oversized shirt and joggers. The bags under her eyes. I was the one who felt like an intruder. I could always stay with my mom and Russ, but…no. I knew what I had to do. And I was not looking forward to crawling to Miles with my tail between my legs, believe me. Or even worse, pretending to date him. But, even more than that, I didn’t want to force my sick, miserable pregnant sister onto the world’s most uncomfortable pull-out couch.
“Actually, I think Miles has a cabin he can let me stay in.”
Chloe’s eyes flashed my way in surprise. “His cabin?”
“No. It’s empty. The gas fireplace is broken, so they couldn’t rent it out.”
“Won’t you freeze?”
“Apparently, this cabin was one of the originals. The wood-burning fireplace is still there, but they added a gas fireplace for ease. So, there’s wood we can chop.”
“You want to know my first thought when I saw him?” Chloe’s eyes were flashing with a bit of the playfulness she’d had the night before at the lodge, which immediately raised my guard.
“Not really,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee.
“He’d make an excellent lumberjack.”
“Okay, simmer down. He’ll probably make me chop it.”
Her gaze turned questioning. “Why?”
Dang it. Any boyfriend worth his salt would probably do the wood chopping for his woman. I decided to appeal to Chloe’s feministic side. “He’s a big proponent of teaching a man to fish—or in this case, a woman to chop wood.”
“You tell him that if he doesn’t chop your wood, I’m going to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine.”
Oh, right, I forgot. Chloe only had a feminist side after she watched any movie set around 1800’s England.
“Well…do what you’ve got to do.”
She sputtered out a laugh. “He’s hot, I’ll give you that.”
I straightened in my seat. “Thank you?”
“And I can tell he likes you.”
I suddenly felt like a mouse trapped by a playful cat. Maybe Miles was a better actor than I thought.
“I missed the surprise. Were you freaking out when you saw him?”