Hitched (Hitched #1)(39)

Then he cleans up the bathroom.

Now, I realize that he's a doctor and has likely seen worse. And that this is something everyone goes through at some point in his or her life. And that every relationship, if it lasts long enough, will be faced with the “in sickness” part of the vows—though I don't recall if we said that during our quickie wedding—but I'm not quite prepared to be an invalid in his presence. It's like the sexy has sloughed off my body revealing a scaly monster hiding underneath. And it smells like vomit.

Sebastian, however, doesn't bat an eye. For two days during the worst stomach flu of my life, he waits on me, caters to my every unspoken whim, and cleans up every trace of sick I leave behind.

And it makes my heart melt. Any man who can do that and still wants to be with you when it's all over is truly a keeper.





Chapter 26


Dead Poets


I didn't die.

That's the main thing, right? That I'm still alive and still with Sebastian. We survived the worst I could throw at us. Or throw up on us, as the case may be.

Now let's just put those last few days behind us and never speak of them again, okay? Great.

Moving on.

I'm browsing through Sebastian's reading selection while he pours us both coffee, but his choice in literature is… narrow. "Medical journals and historical military novels? Really? That's it?"

He chuckles. "It's enough. And I do have one Sherlock Holmes book somewhere around here."

I raise an eyebrow and accept the coffee. "One?"

"It's a collection, so it counts as more."

"You need to expand your literary tastes," I tell him as I scan one of his medical books.

"I think my literary tastes are fine as they are."

I put the book back and turn to him. "This could compromise the integrity of our relationship if this isn't handled quickly. An intervention is in order."

He kisses my forehead fondly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Let's go to a bookstore," I suggest.

"A bookstore?"

"Yeah, you know, one of those big buildings where they keep all the books, but you have to pay if you want to leave with them. I know they're a bit archaic in our dot-com world, but surely Vegas still has one or two if we look hard enough."

He grins. "I'm sure there are. That sounds like fun."

I pull out my phone and Google bookstores. Because I was serious about the dot-com world. I love reading but can't remember the last time I went to an actual brick and mortar bookstore.

"We have a few promising choices," I tell him. "There's a Barnes & Noble on West Charleston… that would be a predictable choice."

"Entirely too predictable," he says.

"Oh, these look more exciting. How about Amber Unicorn Books on Decatur, or Dead Poet Bookstore on Rainbow Boulevard? I wonder if we'll spot any actual unicorns?"

"Or dead poets," he says.

"Or those. So, what's your vote? Dead poets or the rare unicorn?"

I follow him to the kitchen and sit on a stool as he rinses our now-empty coffee cups out. "I'm going to have to cast my vote with the Dead Poets."

I jump up off the stool, then immediately regret it as my stomach is still a bit wibbly-wobbly from the days that shall not be spoken of. "I knew you'd pick that one. Dead Poet's Society is your favorite movie."

"Indeed!"

We leave the house in under ten minutes and arrive at a charming used and rare bookstore that is larger than I expected. While a bit dusty, it has the feel of a place that has hosted many deep conversations and insightful meanderings through classic literature.

I love it instantly.

Dotted through the store are nooks for reading, clusters of chairs and couches for group meetings, and even a chess board for those who want to kill some time honing their strategy skills.

I run my hands over the old leather-bound books and sigh, breathing in the smell of paper and ink. "I should come to bookstores more often. I forgot how much I enjoy them."

Sebastian takes out his phone and snaps a picture of me, then smiles. "You look radiant among the classics, Ms. Michaels."

After browsing the titles for over an hour and purchasing a few to take home, I challenge Sebastian to a game of chess.

"Right now?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Obviously." I sit in one chair, and he sits down across from me, dropping our bag of books next to him.

"I have to warn you, I'm quite good," he says.

"And I should warn you, I'm not bad myself."

"Very well then," he gestures gallantly, "ladies first."

The game is a quiet one, each of us fiercely concentrating as we attempt to out maneuver each other.

When he takes my pawn, I pump my fist and wipe out his rook. But then he sneaks in and puts my queen in jeopardy, so I rethink my next move and am forced to go on the defensive.

We circle each other like alley cats. Each of us pushing the other into offensive or defensive, depending on the move.

His mind is keen, and he doesn't miss much as he watches me study the board. We are both down to a skeleton crew defending our kings. The game will be over in a few more moves.

I think I have him, that I've surely won, but at the last moment he sacrifices everything and manages to not only save his king but puts me in checkmate at the same time.