The Broken One (Corisi Billionaires, #1)(23)

I didn’t have the energy to be offended. “At school. Then Erica is keeping her for the night so I can sleep this off.”

“Do you need anything?”

From Mr. Gorgeous while I look like roadkill? Umm. Hell no. “Thanks, but I’m all set.”

“Do you have someone there to take care of you?”

I groaned again. “No, but it’s for the best. I don’t want to give this to anyone.”

“Someone should be there with you. I can be there in a little over an hour.”

I chuckled, because if I didn’t I might cry. “No. I haven’t showered since yesterday, and I look every bit as bad as I sound. No one is seeing me like this. Especially not someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

Maybe it was the fever. Maybe I was just too exhausted to care, but I said, “My hair is plastered to my head. I may have thrown up organs I’ll miss later, and I’m not done yet. If you like me at all, hang up, call me back next week, and let me pretend we never had this conversation.”

“I’m closing down my computer now. Is there anything you don’t have? Ginger ale? Soup?”

I shuddered at the thought of anything passing my lips. “I honestly don’t need anything.”

“I’ll bring you something. My mother is good at knowing what works well in situations like this. I’m sure she’ll have a good idea. Will you be able to let me in?”

My head was pounding. My stomach was churning the countdown to my next dry heave. Could I let him in? I moaned. I dropped my phone and gagged into the bowl. Nothing came up. Nothing was left inside me. That didn’t stop me from making some ungodly sounds as my body tried to expel . . . my toes, I guess?

I fell back onto the couch. It was a moment or two before I remembered Sebastian had been on the phone. I picked it up, and because I was completely, utterly mortified, I joked, “I’ve never been good at flirting. How am I doing?”

He made a sympathetic sound. “It’s a unique style, but I’m still coming over.”

Whatever. There was little past survival I cared about right then. “I should shower before you get here, but I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I can help you with that when I’m there.”

I groaned again. Was it possible to be half-dead and turned on at the same time? “I don’t want the first time I shower with a man to be something I remember for the wrong reasons.”

He was quiet for a moment, giving me long enough to replay my last words in my head and kick myself for saying them. “I wasn’t suggesting we shower together . . .”

Oh, wait, the sound of me getting sick hadn’t inspired a fantasy of us naked in the shower? He probably hadn’t been celibate as long as I had been. I’m an idiot. “Don’t come, Sebastian. This fever has me a little delirious, I think.”

“Do you have anyone who can come be with you?”

Teri was holding down the office. I couldn’t risk getting her sick. Erica was watching Ava for me. “No,” I admitted, closing my eyes.

“Then I’m on my way.”

I wanted to sleep, but I pushed myself up in a seated position. If Sebastian was coming over, there was no way I wasn’t going to clean up before he arrived. I stumbled to the shower, stood beneath the hot spray long enough to endure another round of dry heaving, then pulled on checkered pajama bottoms with a buttoned-up top. Teeth brushed, hair still wet, I lay down on the couch for a moment. I told myself it was just for a second. I intended to clean up the living room a little before he arrived, but when I closed my eyes, I fell into a deep sleep and didn’t wake until I heard my doorbell.

Light-headed, I made my way to the door. After opening it, I tried for bravado by putting a hand on one hip and saying, “Well, this is what’s left of me.”

He stepped inside and placed a grocery bag on the floor. “You’re all wet,” he said like a parent discovered their child misbehaving.

I closed the door and swayed on my feet. “I couldn’t let you see me the way I was.” I turned, stepped on the hem of my pajama bottoms, and would have gone careening to the floor if he hadn’t caught me.

As if I weighed nothing at all, he swung me up into his arms and strode toward the living room.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and settled my head on his shoulder. “This is just like in the movies, except you’re probably hoping I don’t throw up on you.”

He paused, mid stride. “Is that an imminent possibility?”

I breathed in his scent and weighed his question. “I don’t think so. It’s been a little while, and as long as I don’t eat anything, I should be fine.”

“You need to stay hydrated.”

“Shh,” I said, closing my eyes. “In my fantasy of this moment, you weren’t nagging me.”

I felt, as well as heard, his chuckle. “Well, when you feel better you can tell me about any and all fantasies you have. I’ll do my best to live up to them. For now, you need to get into dry pajamas, and I’ll get you some ice chips.”

“Ice chips. Your mother’s advice?”

“Mothers always know the best cure.”

My arms tightened around his neck. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember mine.”