Jennifer Probst - All the Way

His chest rumbled. “Baby, I don’t think you care right now. Close your eyes and rest.”

The next wave began and she moaned. “Can’t. Couch is shaking. Go home, Gavin.”

“Not going anywhere.” He grabbed the remote and turned it to an old episode of Seinfeld. “Concentrate on this in the background. I used to do that when I was drunk. Takes away the spins.”

“I’m gonna—”

She flew across the room and made it to the bathroom. When she finally lifted her head, all dignity and pride shriveled and died. She stunk. She looked like crap. She wanted to crawl into a hole and surrender.

He picked her up from the cool white tile, helped wash her face, then pulled her hair back to gather it in a clip. He left for a moment and returned with a T-shirt and sweats, then helped her change. Gavin forced a sip of water down her throat and led her back to the couch.

His solid warmth comforted her in a way she hadn’t experienced since her grandmother held her during the flu. The sickness and emotions whirled together in a rush. “Gavin?”

“What, baby?”

“I’m sorry. About the review.” She tried to gulp a breath. “You were right. I wrote it because I was angry at you and wanted you to hurt. Just like I did when you left me.” She waited a beat, then pushed through the rest. “I wanted to be the one to get the last word for once.”

She waited for his temper. Disappointment. Waited for him to leave.

Instead, he stroked back her hair. “I know. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

Regret choked her throat. “I can’t do another review, either. I—I won’t.”

“Okay.”

His simple acceptance rocked her soul, but another bout of nausea distracted her from analyzing her reaction. She ran back to the bathroom, misery and exhaustion battling for supremacy.

The hours passed. He didn’t leave. Didn’t speak. When the worst of the pain passed, Miranda lay her sweat-drenched head against him and let go. Seinfeld turned into Friends and The Big Bang Theory . Night fell and she slept. When she roused herself to open her eyes and take another sip of water, something deep inside of her shifted and broke open.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He smiled and caressed her cheek. “Welcome.”

She fell back asleep.

“Have you guys done it yet?”

Miranda arched one brow and peered over her black-framed glasses in disapproval. Andy leaned against the computer desk and munched on a cannoli. Fresh cream spilled out from a perfectly formed crust, making her fingers clench around her pen. Damn, every time three o’clock hit she got the sugar craving, and she could always count on Andy to stroll past her with some kind of dessert. The awful virus had passed and given her a jump-start on her diet. Why screw it up now? Too many carbs and dessert menus had to go somewhere, and her hips were too meaty. Unfortunately, she wanted to gobble down that rich, Italian pastry more than she wanted to fit in her new size.

“Hmm, my ears must be playing tricks on me. You’d never ask such a tasteless question.”

“Nope, you heard right. You’ve been seeing him for a couple of weeks and still haven’t told me if you did it.” He broke off a piece of buttery crust and popped the wedge in his mouth. Crankiness hit her.

“Did it?” she repeated.

Andy rolled his eyes. “Come on, Miranda, don’t you remember the slang term? Did the nasty. Had sex. Got it on. Need I continue?”

“You’re warped.”

He grinned. “You did, didn’t you?”

“Why is my sex life suddenly so important to you?”

“Dear friend, you haven’t had a sex life for me to get excited about. I’m just trying to make up for lost time.”

She shook her head. “If you and Gavin are such good buddies now, why don’t you ask him?”

Andy shoved the last piece of pastry in his mouth and licked his fingers. “When a man cares about a woman, he keeps his sex life to himself. Common fact. We don’t gossip like women.”

She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “You won’t ask Gavin this question because of a male code of ethics, but it’s okay to ask me?”

“Yep.”

She smiled. “Women have their own code, Andy. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

“What?”

“We never kiss and tell.”

Andy nodded. “Yep, you guys did it.”

She threw up her hands in defeat. “I’ll never win without Elaine here. Where did you get the cannoli?”

“Gavin brought them over.”

“He was here?”

“Yeah, you had to run out for that quote from the French manager. He couldn’t wait. Something about setting up for the night crowd.”

“That’s right, he has the lounge open on Wednesdays now.”

“How’s business after you trashed the place?”

Miranda glowered at her friend. “Fine. Anyway, my review was perfectly valid.”

“Are you going to do a second review?”

She bit her lower lip. “I never do repeat visits. It’s my motto, remember?”

Andy studied her worried face. “Uh-oh. Let me try to guess this one. You don’t know whether or not to trust your feelings, do you? You’re afraid he might be using you for the review.”

The past week she spent with Gavin flashed before her. Things were changing between them. Fast. The wall carefully built around her emotions was crumbling, and she didn’t know what to do.

He had forgiven her. Somehow, someway, he allowed himself to move past her need for revenge, even though she’d also hurt his family. He never asked for the second review since the night of her illness, as if the issue was closed. How could she fight a man who forgave?

The man she rediscovered held a gentle warmth in his eyes that had never been there before. He listened with a patience and curiosity that told her he wanted to discover her inner soul. He made love to her with an intensity that not only claimed her body, but her heart and her mind. When she’d first met him, all he knew was how to take. Now, he gave himself freely, and she found herself falling in love with him all over again.

This whole episode was supposed to revolve around sex. Moving on. Letting go. Instead, she’d gotten attached all over again, and complicated things with a review and his temporary assignment that would end in a few more weeks. She swore she’d be dignified and adult when they said good-bye. Instead, bubbles of panic rose up in her throat at the thought.

“Hey, Andy!”

They both turned. Richie, one of the staff photographers, motioned toward the door. “Get in here. I need your opinion on this photo to run with your piece.”

“Hope he got something good. Last time he photographed a yoga class for me.”

“Yoga is hot, though.”

“Yeah, but Richie took shots that would’ve massacred my name. Women with their legs up in the air, folded in half with their rears exposed.” He shuddered. “I needed a male in the class to offset the feminine hormones, but there wasn’t a guy in sight. The piece ended up looking like a puzzle of female bits better off in Cosmopolitan .”

“What’s this new story?”

“Zumba.”

She laughed. “Good luck with that one, buddy.”

He left, and she spent the next minutes battling with her sugar mania. Could the staff have eaten all of them in an hour? Maybe she’d cut one in half, just for a taste. Her work phone flashed and she picked it up. “Miranda Storme.”

“Did Andy eat all the cannolis?”

His voice rumbled through the receiver and her belly dipped. “Probably. If the Lifestyle and Health department find them, I’m dead. I’m sorry I missed you before.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. We’re short-staffed tonight, and I’ve put some heavy advertising into Wednesday happy hour. I want to make sure everything goes smooth.”