5. I smelled.
6. Archie was still here.
Oh dear God, Archie was still here. He’d seen it all, been there for all my gross, literally seen me at my worst. I’d been gross, but more than that, I’d been weak. And he’d seen it all. Dammit.
Groaning, I rolled over. This action alone causing every muscle in my body, especially those in my tummy, to tense.
My groan alerted Archie, who turned in his chair where he was reading the paper, sipping coffee, and nibbling on a cinnamon roll. He smiled in my direction.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Depends.” I grimaced, struggling to sit up. “When did you park a truck in my mouth?”
“I’m afraid a particularly strong case of the stomach flu did that,” he said, setting down his coffee to quickly move to prop a pillow behind me.
I looked around the room. Half-full glasses of ginger ale, saltine cracker sleeves still mostly full, a now-clean wastebasket next to the bed and . . . flowers? “Where’d the tulips come from?”
“I had them sent up, wanted you to have something pretty to look at when you finally woke up,” he said, stroking my hair and smoothing it back from my forehead.
“That was nice,” I said, trying to smile, but Jesus fuck, even my face hurt. “You shouldn’t get too close to me, I stink.”
“You don’t stink.”
“Well, my hair must be gross, then, seriously, you don’t have to do that,” I said, shrugging him off a little bit. The room felt overly warm. “Would you mind opening the window, let a little fresh air in here?”
He frowned. “I wouldn’t do that yet, you don’t want to get too cold, your poor body has been through a lot these last couple of days.”
“Oh, I think I’ll be okay.”
“Maybe later,” he said, closing the subject. “Are you feeling hungry yet?”
I winced. “Good God, no, I’m not eating for the rest of the year.”
“You’ve hardly eaten anything since Monday, you need to get your strength back. Here, why don’t you lie back and I’ll have them bring up some chicken soup.” He started to pull the covers back up around me when I processed, really processed, what he said.
“Since Monday, wait, what the hell day is it?” I asked, suddenly remembering my meeting in Boston and my conversation with Dick and—
“It’s Wednesday, sweetheart, you were pretty out of it,” he soothed, once more brushing my hair back.
“I was out for two days?” I cried, pushing back the covers and trying to climb out of bed. I’d only been given a week to finish this hotel, now I had even less time. What a nightmare.
“Clara, get back in bed, you need to rest.” He tugged gently on my elbow, but I was almost out of bed now and I wanted that fresh air. Ugh, and a shower.
“I’m fine, really, let’s get that window open and air this place out a bit,” I said, slipping into my slippers and only wobbling a little on legs that felt like they hadn’t stood up in months. “I’m just going to check my email real quick and then take a shower. Where’s my phone?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, looking around. “I haven’t seen it since we brought you up here the other day.”
“Oh man,” I groaned, crossing quickly to my purse, trying not to notice that my head was still a little swimmy. I tore through it, looking. “Dammit, not there. Where’s my tote bag?”
“Over by the desk, I’ll get it for you.”
“I got it,” I said, already on my way, my mind trying to piece together what had happened once I’d made it back here after the trip to Boston. “My phone never rang, not that whole time?”
“I didn’t hear it, but I wasn’t really paying attention to anything except what was going on with you. You were really sick.”
“I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine how awful it was to listen to,” I said, looking up at him from my tote bag. “Please tell me I didn’t throw up on you.”
“Okay,” he said, shrugging.
“Oh God, that’s disgusting,” I cried, taking everything out of my bag, still no phone. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He smiled, walking over to where I was standing, now turning my tote bag upside down and shaking it out. “It was the shower curtain that caught the brunt of it.”
Where the hell was my phone? “Mm-hmm, shower curtain.” Had Barbara tried to call? Had Dick tried to call? Jesus, what if they’d called the hotel and let slip that I’d be leaving here in just a few days? “Wait, what shower curtain?”
“You don’t remember?” Archie grinned, reaching out to rub my shoulders. “You kept saying you were fine, you were done throwing up, and then you took off running to the bathroom and didn’t quite make it.”
Now that he mentioned it . . . “Archie, seriously, I owe you big-time. I can’t believe you stayed here through all that, I could’ve managed and then you wouldn’t have had to see all that. No mysteries left, I guess.”
“You don’t owe me anything, and you needed me, so I was here.”
“Well, I’m not saying I don’t appreciate it, but good God, I wouldn’t expect anyone to stick around for that, I wouldn’t even have asked Roxie to stay.” I tried to think back through the muddled memories from that drive on Monday. I remembered using my phone in the car to call and leave Barbara a message. Was it still in my car?
I spied my tennis shoes in the corner, but before I could grab them to head down to the parking lot I noticed Archie standing there, a little too quiet.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“You didn’t have to ask me to stay, Clara, of course I stayed. Where else do you think I’d be if you’re sick?” He looked a little puzzled, a little hurt almost.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way, I just . . . you’re very sweet to have made sure I was okay, but I’m fine. All better. You can go back to work now.” I sat down in the corner chair and started to lace up my sneakers, ignoring the thundering headache that kept building behind my eyes.
“Relationships aren’t all fun, Bossy, sometimes when one half is down it’s the other half who helps them back up again, you know?” I glanced up from my laces and he was there, looking thoughtfully down at me. “Why on earth are you putting on your shoes?”
I stood up. “I gotta run down to my car, I think I left my phone in the front seat, that’s the only other place it could be and—”
“Oh no,” he said, taking me by the shoulders and leading me toward the bathroom. “You said you wanted to take a shower, but I’m thinking a nice long bath would be perfect, not so much standing up. I’ll get that chicken soup we talked about, and then if you absolutely need it, I can run down to your car . . . later.”