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“One more should do it,” I muttered to myself and took another healthy gulp of syrupy, green decongestant. A shudder racked my whole body after the second dose went down, so I chased it with some water straight from the tap. Digging through the mess on the bed, I found my handbag and then went to find Carmen.
He stood when he saw me and reached for my hands. I was more comfortable with his frequent touching now and placed mine in his. Unexpectedly, he lifted one hand high above our heads and twirled me around like a dance partner. The surprise move and the cold medicine I just ingested made me topple off balance and right into his embrace.
With steadying arms around me, he nuzzled his face into my neck. “You look gorgeous. Thank you for doing this. I know it hasn’t been easy.”
My voice was a child’s when I bashfully thanked him for the compliment. Not liking the vulnerability, I quickly said, “We should probably go.”
I hooked my arm in his to traverse the staircase outside. That damn medicine went straight to my brain, and the ground swayed beneath every step I took. I tried blinking slowly several times to clear the staticky edges from my vision, but it didn’t help.
My handsome date secured me in the passenger seat and strolled around the hood to take the wheel. He looked so dapper in an open sport coat and button-down shirt. Matching slacks were tailored to his lean body, and I instantly recalled images of him after his run yesterday. Hot and sweaty with muscles stretched tight from exertion, the memory was vivid and arousing. A groan slipped past my lips and filled the silence of the car and caught the close attention of my partner.
“You okay?” he asked with more concern than confidence, so I played it off the best I could.
“My stomach is doing a number on me because of my nerves,” I explained as he backed out of the parking space and drove out of the complex. It wasn’t far from the truth.
That crap I’d chugged probably wasn’t the smartest decision, because I truly felt nauseous from it. But the last thing I wanted was his attentive caretaking, so I added, “But what I was really thinking was how handsome you look in your Sunday best, Mr. Sandoval. I’m surprised there aren’t a bunch of unattached parishioners saving you a spot in their pew each week.”
“Cute.” He grinned, and a smile spread across my lips too.
“Is it far?” I asked, getting a little concerned about the way my insides were gurgling.
“Nah, less than thirty. Traffic is usually light on Sunday mornings.”
“Yes, because all the sane people are still sleeping, not getting dressed up to be judged and gossiped about,” I said in a pleasant tone.
His sideways glance let me know I probably shouldn’t try to sneak in another little zinger like that.
We arrived about twenty minutes later, and groupings of people milled around outside the building. After a quick observation, everyone seemed familiar with each other, and lots of friendly hugs and greetings were being exchanged.
Carmen had a possessive hand at my lower back, and the reassurance I was getting from that small gesture should’ve unnerved me. I continually lectured myself about not becoming dependent on this man so I could keep up some sort of wall between us where those dangerous feelings were concerned.
It was all fine and good to sleep with the man. Hell, I was all for that one, actually. But the confusing things like gaining confidence from his kind words or feeling secure because of his physical presence? Well, I didn’t want to rely on anyone for those things. I wanted to be independent and know I was capable of giving myself those positive reassurances.
My husband steered us through the crowd and stopped in front of his family. I assumed these people were his family, at least. There was an older man and woman and a young lady about my age. The woman wrapped Carmen in a fierce hug while the man looked me over from head to toe. It wasn’t a creepy leer, but the assessment of a curious stranger. I gave him an easy smile, and he returned the expression.
“Carmen, my boy.” The man took his turn hugging his son, and then my husband stood back and held out his hand to me.
“Mom, Dad, this is Agatha. Agatha, my parents, Hector and Manuella Sandoval.”
I sensed he was nervous, but damn, did he look handsome with the pride that was glowing all over his face. The bright morning sun created delicious shadows beneath his cheekbones, and I was momentarily lost in admiring his good looks.
Carmen’s parents were cordial and shook my hand while he and his sister whispered along the edge of our little group.
“And this troublemaker is my sister, Gray,” he said with a chuckle, and the girl swept me into a hug that nearly knocked the wind from my lungs.
When we separated, she took a playful swipe at her brother and said, “Well, now I know why I haven’t heard from you much lately. Been busy, huh?”
“Graziella, mind your manners,” Mrs. Sandoval chided. “We’ve just met the young lady.”
Her daughter simply rolled her eyes at the woman’s comment.
“Shall we go in before all the good seats are taken?” Mr. Sandoval suggested, but I wanted to run back to the car and hide. If I survived the next few hours, the members of this congregation would witness an actual miracle in their house of worship.
Carmen’s hand was at the base of my spine again, this time attempting to steer me toward the church’s front doors. But I stopped in my tracks and braced to resist his urging forward.
He looked across his shoulder to where I was rooted to the pavement and asked, “You okay? You’re very pale.” He pivoted to shield me from the front and ducked down to be at my eye level. “What’s up, baby? You really don’t look so good.”
“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” I whimpered. “I told you my stomach was bothering me.”
