“No.” I retch again, this time my breakfast coming up with the effort. “Fuck.”
“Dude, you can’t be tossing your cookies. We haveRolling Stone.” Austin bugs his eyes and throws up his hands.
“Think I don’t know that?” I use my sarcasm as a shield. Grabbing a towel, I wipe my mouth and slide down to the floor. Sweat gathers on my brow, from either the countless lies or forcing myself to throw up. I can’t believe I just did that. I’ve officially reached an all-time low. My stomach rumbles as though it’s pissed, too. For added measure, I moan and hang my head between my knees.
“It wasn’t my cooking?” Opal bites her bottom lip and walks to my side.
“No.” I shake my head, not wanting her to think this is any of her doing. “I felt nauseous when I woke up. Thought it was nerves, but now . . . I don’t think I should go.”
“That’s probably best.” Trent looks down on me from where he stands.
“Sucks, man.” Austin shakes his head. “The timing is horrible.”
“What can I get you? Ice? Water?” Opal asks.
“You don’t have to—”
“Here.” She wrings out a wet cloth and presses it to my forehead. Her sweetness overwhelms me. How can one person be this nice? “Trent, can you help him up? At least so he can lay on one of the recliners.”
“Thank you,” I mutter.
Trent helps me off the floor and I lean on him, even though I could walk the short distance just fine. Fuck. This charade is wrong in so many ways. With each day, my deceitfulness grows. The grave I dig myself, that much deeper. At this point I don’t see how I’ll ever climb out.
Austin pulls out his phone. “Hate to break up the nurse’s station, but we’ve got to go. Car’s here.”
“Go. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” I wave them off.
Opal presses the back of her hand against my temple and glances up at Trent. “I’ll stay here to keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t get worse.”
Bad idea. It’s bad enough I’m bailing, but with Opal as my witness I’ll have to keep up this sick act for that much longer. “You don’t have to stay.”
“No. That’s fine.” Trent’s brow scrunches with his frown and he looks from me to Opal. “If he gets worse or runs a fever call Vera or Todd at the label. They’ll get a doctor here. He has to play tonight. We don’t have time to find a sub or practice.”
“Got it.” She smiles and nods. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him safe.” But I’m not the one who needs looking after. I feel horrible for deceiving everyone more than I already am. It’s the very reason I should stay as far away from Opal as I can, but that’s as impossible as asking the wind to stop blowing.
Once the guys leave, the disappointment of missing out hits me square in the chest. I channel the energy into moping, because at least then I appear sick. Opal brings water and crackers, and watches my every move like a hawk. Is she able to see through my sham? It almost makes me feel worse if she can’t.
“Do you want to sleep? We could watch something?”
I nod at the television screen. “Yeah, okay.”
“What are you in the mood for?” she asks, and her eyes flicker with interest as they sweep down my body.
My dick perks up with the question. Self-preservation never was his strong suit. As discreetly as possible I readjust myself and settle back into the recliner. “You pick. I don’t care.”
She surfs the available channels and finally lands on some reality show where a couple searches for their dream home. It’s mindless. There’s really nothing to the format other than a TV crew following the couple through three different properties. I get sucked in anyway.
“They’re going to pick number two,” I say at the commercial break.
“You think?” Opal shakes her head. “No, they’ll go with one. Did you see her face when they toured the kitchen?”
“But it’s further from his work. And two’s the best value.”
“We’ll see.” Her lips tug with a grin and she shakes her head.
Of course the couple selects the first house.
“I hate to say I told you so . . .” Opal’s laughter is a balm to my sour mood. I can’t help but smile.
