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Josh
I ranaround the car and heard it hit the ground before I saw it.
Hunched over, with her hands on her knees, Nicole dry heaved. Her breakfast was already on her shoes and the ground.
I pulled open the car door and grabbed a box of tissues. “Here.” I took out several and offered them. “Are you okay?”
The stock question came out without thought. Of course she wasn’t okay. Tears streaked her cheeks as she straightened up.
I pulled her away from the mess and wiped her chin with some tissues. “What happened? What did I do?”
She blinked back the tears. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing you did. I can’t go out on the water.” She straightened up and took a few more tissues from the box to clean off.
I guided her to the back of the car, away from the smell of the mess, and leaned her against the bumper. “Rest here.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Hey, it’s not your fault. I’m the one who cooked breakfast this morning. I fucked something up.”
She took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “It’s not the food. I just can’t…” She looked toward the ferry terminal and back at me. “I can’t.”
Now it seemed it wasn’t her nausea but the idea of being on the ferry that had brought this on.
“Stay here,” I told her while I fetched a bottled water from the backseat. “Swish and spit.”
She opened the water and did as I suggested, twice. “Thanks. It tastes a lot better going down than coming back up.” She laughed—a good sign.
“I’m a good listener.”
“Maybe somewhere else.”
“Sure. Trade ya.” I offered the tissue box and took the water from her. “Stay there.” I wet some tissues and knelt to wipe off her shoes.
“Thank you.”
I pointed back down the road we’d come in on. “Is a Starbucks okay?”
She nodded.
Ten minutes later, I ordered us grande mochas, and she eyed a breakfast sandwich but decided against it.
She snuggled up against me as I paid. “I’m sorry.”
I hip-bumped her. “Say that one more time and I’m making you pay.”
She giggled, which had been my desired outcome. “I’ll get us a seat outside.”
When the drinks were ready, I found her outside, staring in the direction of the ocean with a decidedly sad face. She looked back and her mood shifted several notches up the happy scale when I pulled out my chair.
I sipped a bit of my hot drink. “I added cinnamon for you.”
“You’re too nice.”
“No such thing in the boyfriend handbook. I looked.” It didn’t get the giggle I’d hoped for, or even the smile.
“I’m sorry. I—”
