Yours Truly(42)

“Thanks,” Kat responded automatically. She swallowed hard to keep what was left of her stomach down where it belonged. She’d toss the bag out on her way out.

Moving slowly to avoid jarring her delicate stomach, Kat gathered her things while Renee watched.

“Be sure to put that in the big dumpster, and not the one just by the elevator,” Renee told her as Kat shouldered her computer bag to leave. “I don’t want to get sick.”

“Sure, Renee.” Kat didn’t even bother to moderate her tone. She didn’t feel good and walking wasn’t making it any better.

“You don’t have to be snippy,” Renee complained. “And send me those reports when you’re done. Just because you’re going home doesn’t mean I should be late with my stuff.”

Kat didn’t even bother answering. She was too busy focusing on getting her exhausted feet to the car.





20





Kat



Kat’s stomach turned as she kicked her feet up onto the couch and laid her head back. Her hands were clammy as she opened her laptop to once again view the project that she was supposed to be working on.

She wanted to work on it. She was so proud that the board was even looking at her Shoesy Rentables idea that it was the only thing, other than AJ, that she wanted to do.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to work on it at all, and it didn’t seem like that was going to change any time soon. Every time she tried to focus, the nausea would come back and she couldn’t seem to string two coherent thoughts together. Whatever kind of flu she had only allowed her to concentrate on one thing: keeping breakfast down.

The TV was on at a low volume. She had started a show in an attempt to distract her from how awful she felt, but it wasn’t doing her any good. She could hardly pay attention to it. She felt like death warmed over, and beyond the nausea, she was so physically exhausted that it was difficult to keep her eyes open.

There is no possible way that I’m going to get any work done today, Kat thought. Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.

A knocking on her front door alerted her senses, but only slightly.

Who could that be? She wondered.

The last thing in the world she wanted right then was to have to interact with someone. She closed her eyes, hoping that whoever it was would just go away. But the knocking came again, this time a little louder.

“Just come in,” she called out, though her voice was weak and raspy.

Whoever was outside didn’t hear her, because a second later they knocked again. Kat took a deep breath and slowly began to sit up, when she heard her front door open.

Normally the sound of an unknown person opening her door would have concerned her. But she didn’t even care. She was just utterly grateful that she could stay on the couch and not have to force herself to get up and answer it.

If it’s a robber, he can just take everything I own. As long as he doesn’t make me get off the couch. I think that’s a fair deal, she thought.

“Kat, are you home?” a familiar voice called out.

Kat managed a smile for the first time that morning. It was AJ. So much better than a robber, Kat thought to herself.

“I’m in the living room,” she attempted to shout back. It came out as more of a loud whisper.

AJ popped around the corner. He was wearing his black business suit with his red tie. There was worry in his eyes as he walked toward Kat, juggling a 6-pack of Gatorade, a container of soup and a beautiful bouquet of red, pink and orange flowers.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to sit up and then changing her mind. Laying down was a much better idea.

“I heard you were sick, so I wanted to come and check on you,” he explained.

Kat grinned, wishing she could get up and throw her arms around him for a hug. She was positive that no man had ever done something so sweet for her before.

“Thank you, AJ,” she said. “But you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did,” he said, affirmatively. “Nobody likes to be alone when they’re sick.”

AJ set everything onto the coffee table in front of Kat.

“Do you have a vase? I’ll put these in water,” he said, motioning to the flowers.

“Under the sink,” she told him.

He went to the kitchen and promptly came back with the vase full of water.

“I got you flowers that are already dead,” he told her, putting the colorful stems into the vase. “You can’t kill these ones.”

She smiled weakly. She couldn’t believe that he had remembered their conversation in the limo about her killing houseplants.

“Now to get you feeling better,” he said, cracking open one of the Gatorades. He handed it to Kat and she immediately took a swig. She hadn’t had anything to drink since the night before and needed this cottonmouth cure immediately.