Betting On It

by Violet Blake

  “Jesus, baby. I’m coming over.” A rustle sounded in the background, followed by footsteps.

  “You can’t. Don’t, please. I’m going to be all right… It’s just a cold.”

  “It’s not up for discussion. You sound like you’re dying of tuberculosis over there, and no way in hell am I going to let you be alone.”

  Coughing, I shook my head. “I can call Jessica.”

  Even to me, in my flu haze, the argument sounded weak.

  “Why can’t I take care of you?”

  Yeah. Why not?

  “You have so much work to do. What about your audit?” Wheezing, I curled into a ball on my side, squeezing out more tears.

  “Fuck the audit. See you in a few.”

  The line went dead.

  Crap. Crap, crap, crap. He was not doing this. He couldn’t. It was the middle of the night, he had way too much on his plate, and he did not need to take care of my cold.

  I hit the call button on my phone. He didn’t answer. And he didn’t answer the next seven times I tried, either.

  Resigned to the fact that I was going to have to face him, I brushed my teeth, drank a glass of water, and unlocked my door. I glanced at my table. Shit. The bills—most of which were hovering on their due dates. I stuffed them into my fist, frantic for a place to put them. My eyes settled on the fridge. I put them in the deli drawer under a pack of sliced turkey. I’d deal with them when Sawyer left.

  Blackness slammed into my vision, making my feet buckle. I fell to my knees, but realizing how awesomely cold the linoleum felt, I sprawled out. Soaking up the heavenly coolness, that’s how I fell asleep.

  “What the fuck?” Sawyer’s voice broke through my sleep.

  I was still sprawled out on the floor like I’d died there. I opened my eyes and tried to smile. “Feels good down here.”

  He bent down and set a paper bag on the floor next to me. “You’re worse than I thought.” He reached into his magical bag of tricks and opened a green box. Twisting the cap of a bottle of herbal tea, he frowned. “This’ll bring down your fever, maybe help you sleep. Not that you’re having issues with that.”

  “I don’t want you to get sick, too. You should go.”

  “Not a chance.” He put his arm under my shoulders and pulled me upright. My body sagged into his chest, and I let him help me swallow the pills.

  With no big amount of effort, he hooked his other arm under my knees and stood. “Let’s get you into bed.”

  All I could do was nod while he carried me to bed.

  “You’re burning up so bad. Let’s get you out of your work suit, huh?” At my nod he took off my clothes, leaving me in my panties. He walked to my dresser and found a knit cami and helped me into that, then pulled a sheet over me. When I was settled to his satisfaction he laid on the bed next to me. “What do you need?”

  I shuddered at the new pain the light sheet brought to my skin. Closing my eyes, I waited for the unpleasantness to subside. “Just you.”

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered, his fingers wiping my cheeks with such gentleness.

  “I’m not.”

  “Okay,” he said, his lips brushing against my hot forehead. “Go to sleep.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice.

  ...

  For the next few days I was only vaguely aware, drifting in and out of sleep. Every so often I’d heard him on the phone, typing, or just there. He was always there, ready to give me more cold meds that would knock me out and toss me back into blissful oblivion. Slowly the horribleness of my flu bug subsided, and the full impact of what he’d done set in.

  He’d come for me. In the middle of the night. And he’d stayed.

  The shower ran, giving me a clue to his whereabouts. My vision came into focus, and I spotted his suitcase on the chair next to my dresser. His laptop had been left open on my bedside table, and his glasses on the keyboard. I smiled.

  He’d freaking stayed.

  The trash next to my bed was full of Kleenex, empty cold pill packs, and a few of my favorite herbal tea bottles.

  I caught a glimpse of myself it the mirror. “Son of a bitch.”

  My hair was knotted everywhere. You needed a welding mask to safely view my pale skin. And I wouldn’t even go into how awful my mouth tasted.

  Sawyer’s future was full of all sorts of the kinkiest, most creative sexual favors we could imagine.

  The sound of my shower stopping cut that idea short. I grabbed a hair tie off my nightstand and used it to secure my hair into a semi-viewable knot.

  Sawyer came out wearing a pink towel, his ridiculous physique glistening with water. A smile cracked on his face. “She’s up.”

  Embarrassment rendered me speechless. Feeling my face burn—not from fever this time—I focused on my bedspread.

  “Shit. I thought we’d gotten rid of your fever.” He rushed to the table where my makeshift medicine cabinet had been erected. Handing me two green pills with one hand, he reached for another bottle of tea with the other.

  My fingers wrapped around his wrist and I held on. “I think my fever’s gone. I was just feeling…well, look at me.”

  “And…”

  “How are you not vomiting right now?”

  “You’re sick. This is what sick people look like. So what?”

  I swallowed, my throat raw from all the coughing. “It’s just—I’m surprised you’re still here.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You’ve been here since Thursday, and it’s what, like Saturday? Don’t you have tons to do?”

  His hand covered my knee—which, shocker, hadn’t been magically shaved in the last few days. “Do I look like I have any fucks to give about the things I’m supposed to be doing at work?”

  I shook my head.

  “I gave all my fucks to you, sweetheart.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, unable to stop myself from smiling. “Do you have any more?”

  “Of course.” He pulled me into his arms and I hugged him tight.

  “Thank you for staying.” Emotion choked me up, but I fought that shit off with a cough.

  “That’s what I do.”

  Later that day, after I’d showered, shaved, brushed my teeth, and looked for the most part like a human again, we ventured to the kitchen. My bills were still safe under the turkey, my dishes were done, and all was right with the world.

  Although I was exhausted, I couldn’t possibly sleep. Not with my brain constantly screaming, “he stayed!” Inevitably that led to the next question, “Now what?” Because the last thing I wanted to do was read too much into the whole thing. Sawyer was a nice guy. Nice guys do nice things and overall, they make people feel nice. This was his MO.

  Right?

  Right.

  So back the hell up, girlfriend.

  Dressed in a satin nightie, I joined Sawyer on the couch. Before I knew what was happening, he’d pulled me so that I fell on top of him. Inhaling, he folded me into his cocoon of amazingness. “Missed you.”

  “I was only gone for half an hour.” But did that kill my smile? No it did not.

  “I made chicken soup,” he said.

  “You’re so awesome,” I said.

  “Hungry?”

  Definitely. But I didn’t want to move. “I’ll eat in a little bit. Thanks.”

  He pulled a blanket over us. “How do you feel?”

  “Much better.” I snuggled into his warmth. “Ready to get back to work Monday, that is for sure.”

  He chuckled. “It’s, uh, already Tuesday.”

  Warm feeling over. I sat up. “Holy shit.”

  Four days’ pay gone? Fuck. Me. This was not happening.

  He sat up, concern etching his features. “I called in for you. Don’t worry, you’re covered.”

  According to the bills in my fridge, I was most certainly not. Chasing off my impending panic attack like an old man chasing kids off his lawn, I nodded. “Thanks.”

  Inside I was banging my
head on a brick wall. Good-bye, car. Good-bye, phone. Good-bye, dignity.

  Sawyer’s hand moved to cover my heart. “You need to lay down again.”

  I covered his hand and shook my head. “I’m all right.”

  “Uh-huh.” He picked me up all Prince Charming style, and carried me into my bedroom. We got situated under the clean sheets, wrapping ourselves around each other.

  His fingers drew light circles over my skin, lulling me into a state of comfort. He skimmed my ribs, my waist, my hip. Next he traced the hem of my panties, then found the appendix scar. “Tell me about this.”

  “There’s not much to say,” I said carefully. “It burst, and they took it out.”

  “How did it get to that point, though? It takes hours to get that sick, doesn’t it?”

  “Ethan’s parents were throwing a huge fundraiser for my dad’s pediatric cancer ward, and I was so busy helping get things done I guess I just pushed it to the back of my mind.” Truth. Most of it.

  He let out a harsh sigh. “What I’m getting at is that there were people there with you. Where were they when this was going on?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’m just trying to figure you out. Why you push people away when you’re hurting or sick or fighting off ninja muggers.”

  I propped myself up on my elbow, frowning. “Maybe it’s the same reason you push me away when you have nightmares.”

  He stilled, and I wanted so, so badly to take those words back.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” I said, shaking my head. I rose. I had to get out of there.

  His hand caught my wrist and he tugged me back to him. “Don’t go. Talk to me.”

  “Will knowing about it change anything?”

  “I hope so.”

  “I don’t understand what this is going to change. What mysteries are you hoping to debunk? What dark secrets are you hoping to uncover?”

  “You almost died and then you broke off your engagement and cut ties with your parents. How do I know you’re not going to leave me, too?” His voice held such a heartbreaking note of fear.

  Tears burned my eyes. “How do I know you’re not going to be the one who leaves when you hear what happened?”

  “The only way you can find out is to tell me.” He twisted a lock of my hair around his finger then let it unravel.

  I hated it when he was right.

  “Fine. That day Ethan’s family was holding a fundraiser for my dad’s pediatric oncology ward, and being the adoring, perfect fiancée and daughter, I was put in charge of the planning. When I woke up that morning I thought I had food poisoning, but by lunch I had a fever and my stomach hurt so bad I couldn’t move.”

  “And you didn’t think it was something more?”

  “I didn’t think there was any other possibility.” Memories made my fingers curl into tight fists.

  “Blair?” He stroked my cheek.

  “I was in tears by lunch time because the pain was so bad, so my mom called my dad at work and told him to bring me some Percocet so she wouldn’t have to deal with my hysterics.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I took a steadying breath. “I took the maximum dose of Percocet and tried to get on with it.”

  “And Fuck Face? Where the hell was he when this was happening?”

  “He was at work and couldn’t get away.”

  “Next time we see him, remind me to punch him in the balls.”

  I cracked a tiny smile. “Okay.”

  “So then what?”

  “By the time people arrived I was numb. I still hurt and I had a fever, but at least I could stand upright. Around seven, I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran to the bathroom and threw up, and…”

  “And what?” He kissed my forehead.

  “Something was so wrong. I knew I was going into shock, and if I didn’t go to the hospital…” I swallowed past the lump forming in my throat and cleared my throat. “I was going to ask Ethan if he’d take me, but when I found him he was talking to my parents about me. He said this was absolutely fucking ridiculous, that there was so much that didn’t get done during the day that should have, and if this was all I had to offer as his wife, he was out.”

  “Who are these people?”

  I shook my head. “They thought I was making too big of a deal over food poisoning, I guess.” I let out a shaky breath. “They did, however, raise $1.2 million for the cancer ward. So there’s that.”

  “Fuck the cancer ward.”

  “I love it when you say fuck.”

  His bear hug just about suffocated me. “What, so they got you to the hospital and realized you were legitimately sick?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “I have to know, Blair.”

  I bit into my lower lip, hoping to divert my emotional pain to a real physical one. Taking deep, measured breaths, I talked myself into telling him the rest. Maybe he would understand. Maybe he would tell me to fuck off. Or maybe he’d trust me enough to tell me what haunted him. I didn’t know. But this was something, wasn’t it?

  “I paid one of the valets to drive me to the hospital, where I found out my appendix had ruptured, that I was going septic, and if I had come any later I wouldn’t be here right now. I had surgery, and when I woke up, I was alone. Ethan’s secretary sent flowers. The nurses on Dad’s floor sent me a box of chocolates with a card. Mom had her picture taken with me while I was sleeping and posted it on her official blog to allay any suspicions that I was dipping into the booze all day.”

  “That’s it?” Incredulity turned his voice angry, harsh.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  Humiliation brought on a fever-like flush. “I broke off my engagement—by text, because he was too busy to see me in person—which really pissed off my parents. They told me I’d better beg for him to take me back because if Mom lost her biggest financial backer there would be hell to pay.”

  “That is so messed up.”

  “Yeah.” I gathered my will to go on, because I’d inevitably have to tell him what came next. “I told my parents I couldn’t do it. That I wanted to actually marry somebody who loved me, and clearly Ethan didn’t. My dad was angry about all the money he’d already spent on the wedding, and my mom…my mom told me that it would’ve been better for her if I’d died because it would be a hell of a lot easier to deal with than the PR nightmare she was having to deal with.”

  Every muscle in his body ceased to move, the comforting caresses he’d been giving me stopping. “She what?”

  “So you see why I can’t be there, why I can’t forgive them.”

  “And that’s why you keep pushing me away.” He said it with authority, like his aunt would diagnose a mentally ill patient. “You’re scared I’m going to do the same?”

  “No. I don’t know. I don’t think you’re the type. But once that’s happened to you, it’s impossible not to fear the worst when you’ve found something good.” I held my breath, waiting for him to flee.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “The bet is over in five days.”

  “So?”

  “Didn’t we decide—”

  “None of that matters, sweetheart. I’ve had ulterior motives from the start.” He shifted so he laid on top of me, his hips flush against mine, and his arms bent at the elbows on either side of my face.

  “Oh?”

  “I decided that if I had to go along with this bet, no matter how dirty I had to play, I’d get to keep you in the end.” His smile was no less smug than an overlord who’d won the power over the world.

  I let that sink in. “You shook on it and everything, you big fat liar.”

  He chuckled. “I know.” His playfulness died and he traced my cheekbone with his thumb. “So, Blair, the big question is, do I get to keep you?”

  Did my heart melt into ectoplasmic goo?

  “Oh, and you had me at ‘my wedding’s off,’ by the way.”

  “That was five months ago,”
I whispered.

  “I know.”

  Wow.

  “This whole bet thing,” I said. “It’s pretty crazy. We didn’t start off like regular people do, and I think we need to go back. Get to know each other again.”

  He nodded, running his teeth across his bottom lip. “What do you want to know?”

  “Will you tell me what gives you nightmares?” I asked.

  Dark, story cumulonimbus clouds covered the light in his eyes. “Soon enough.”

  “This weekend?”

  “If that’s what you really want.”

  “It’s what I want.”

  “Then I will tell you this weekend.” The impending storm didn’t lift, but it didn’t worsen.

  “Thank you,” I said, leaning forward to give him a kiss. I sent up a prayer to the love gods that this wasn’t some sort of NyQuil-induced hallucination. “I suppose you can keep me then.”

  We sealed our new beginning with a kiss, and that’s how I feel asleep. For a girl who’d given up on happiness, I decided I was doing pretty well.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next morning Sawyer went back to Summit Ridge, although it was under duress. I swore to him I’d stay home one more day if he went back up the mountain—the last thing he needed was to be fired.

  Speaking of fired, I’d totally broken my promise. I shuffled in to work wearing my best suit, heels, and enough illuminating makeup to light up Alaska in the winter. The flu could suck it.

  Victoria beamed when I hustled out of the elevator and into the office. “Blair! I was just thinking about you.”

  My smile hopefully matched hers. “Looks like everybody’s back for the most part, huh?”

  She pulled her books off the copier and nodded. “That was a doozy, wasn’t it? Your boyfriend was so sweet, calling in every day to let me know how you were doing.”

  Warmth drove off any misgivings I’d had about this new direction. “He’s pretty great.”

  “I know it was probably hard to take time off.” Her dark eyes lit understandingly.

  With any luck I’d have a permanent position and sign-on bonus in hand soon. So it was a big gamble, but one I’d have to count on considering the dire financial situation I was in.

  “What did I miss while I was out?”