Page 49 of Josephine and Clay

“It is the point,” he counters easily. “You’re no good to anyone if you’re about to keel over mid-procedure.”

I open my mouth to argue again, pause, and close it, because… he’s not wrong.

“I don’t keel,” I mutter.

“You were dangerously close to keeling.”

I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I don’t get sick.”

He chuckles. “Everyone gets sick.”

“Not like this.”

He softens slightly at that, just enough to make it worse. “Then take the afternoon. Figure it out.”

I hesitate, because leaving feels like losing control, and I don’t do that, but the nausea twisting in my stomach makes the decision for me.

“Fine,” I say stiffly. “I’ll go home.”

“Good.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“We’ll see.”

“I will,” I insist.

He smiles faintly. “We’ll see.”

By the time I get outside, I’m sure the fresh air is going to fix everything, but it doesn’t. If anything, the brightness makes it worse.

I pause on the sidewalk, one hand braced lightly against the doorframe, breathing slowly, like I can force my body back into line if I just concentrate hard enough.

This is temporary; it has to be.

I reach into my pocket, pulling out my phone. There’s only one person I can call without having to explain too much.

Penny answers on the second ring.

“Well, this is exciting,” she says immediately. “You never call me in the middle of the day. Are we eloping or committing a crime?”

“Are you busy?” I ask thinly.

“Uh oh, where are you?”

“Outside the clinic.”

“I’m coming.”

“Don’t leave work⁠—”

“I’m already grabbing my keys,” she cuts in. “Sit down and don’t do anything heroic.”

“I’m not⁠—”