by Kate, Jiffy
“It’s been over a year since I saw him last,” she admits solemnly. “He...I don’t know. He rocked my world and then disappeared. I thought...” Shaking her head, she looks down at her dress, smoothing out invisible wrinkles. “I thought there was something between us. Obviously, I was wrong. It was stupid. I should’ve known someone like him would only be interested in a weekend fling.” Looking back up, she makes eye contact and laughs it off, but I see the pain there. This little confession gives me answers to several questions I’ve had about CeCe.
Why is someone like her single?
Why does she never date?
Why does she seem to be obsessed with love yet never goes after it for herself?
Shepard Rhys-Jones.
“Seems like he’s reconsidering,” I tell her, thinking back about the way he looked at her.
“Doubtful,” she mutters, pushing off the counter and throwing herself back into work. “Maverick, Carys’ boyfriend is Shep’s best friend. They own a business together...he’s probably just in town for business.”
“Or a repeat performance,” I quip, raising an eyebrow in her direction.
“Well, he’ll need to find a new actress for the starring role.” She huffs, shaking her head. “Because it won’t be me.”
“Thought you weren’t opposed to a weekend fling,” I hedge, trying to get to the bottom of her response to seeing him.
“I...I’m not.” She shrugs, turning her back to me. “For other people, maybe even for myself at one time or another, but not anymore. Not with him.”
Aha. Okay.
About that time, a tall guy with a big smile and even bigger dimples walks up to the bar. “Can I get two glasses of wine and two beers?”
“Sure,” I tell him, returning his smile.
“Hey, CeCe,” he says with an even bigger smile.
“Deacon!” CeCe’s expression morphs from a regretful scowl to one of complete elation. “I was wondering if you and Cami would be here!” She hugs him and his large arms wrap around her, hugging her back. “Avery, you’ve got to meet my friend Cami. She’s the one who did the paintings in the shop.”
“Oh, wow,” I say, setting the two wines down and reaching for two beer glasses. “I’d love to.”
“Here,” CeCe says, grabbing the wine glasses. “We’ll help you carry these. Follow me, Avery...is that okay, Shaw? Can you spare your girl for a sec?”
Shaw gives her a nod, followed by a wink in my direction. I smile at him and then follow CeCe and Deacon over to a group of people. Cami, I’m assuming by the way she leans in and kisses Deacon, is tall and blonde. Her shoulder length hair is done up in perfect curls and when she turns to greet me, her blue eyes dance with happiness.
“I’m so happy to meet you,” she says, pulling me in for a hug. “Sorry, I’m a hugger.”
“It’s okay. I just hope I don’t stink,” I say with a laugh. “I’ve been working all day.”
“Nonsense,” she says, shooing my apology away. “Besides, Deacon and Micah own several restaurants, so we all know what it’s like to slave away and smell like food and booze at the end of the day.”
“This is Micah and Dani,” CeCe says, motioning to a guy who’s almost as tall as Deacon, but has darker hair and green eyes. Dani, the woman by his side, is gorgeous with her long auburn hair. The warm smile she offers me makes me feel immediately at home, like I’m among friends instead of strangers.
“Hey,” Dani says, stretching across the middle of the group to hug me.
“So, how do you all know each other?” I ask, looking at CeCe.
“Cami and I became friends years ago when she was going to college.”
“Yep,” Cami says, chiming in and pulling CeCe into a side hug. “And we’ve been friends ever since. She still has one of my earliest works hanging in her shop.”
“It’s true,” CeCe says with a proud nod of her head. “I was a fan before being a Cami Benoit-Landry fan was cool.”
We all laugh, falling into easy conversation, but I eventually excuse myself, not wanting to leave Shaw alone. Plus, I just miss him when I’m away from him. But I continue to watch everyone mingle as we serve drinks and I’m filled with wistfulness and warmth at how everyone’s lives are so surreptitiously entwined.
CeCe is best friends with Carys.
Carys is with Maverick.
Maverick’s best friend is Shepard Rhys-Jones.
CeCe and Cami are friends.
Cami is married to Deacon.
Deacon’s brother is Micah who owns Lagniappe, a restaurant around the corner.
Dani is married to Micah.
Micah and CeCe and Shaw all have businesses in the French Quarter and rely on each other for promotion and business.
It’s a web of people who quite possibly could have never met, but they did...and their friendship is beautiful and it kind of makes me teary-eyed when I think about it, which is ridiculous, but I’ve been feeling quite ridiculous a lot these days, my emotions always getting the better of me. So, I roll with it.
“You okay?” Shaw asks, walking back over to the bar after talking in the corner with Maverick and Shep.
“Yeah,” I tell him, folding the bar towel I’ve been using and placing it in front of me. “What were you men folk talking about?”
“Men folk stuff,” he says with a sly smile.
I nod. I want to ask him if Shep mentioned CeCe, but I wouldn’t betray her trust like that. I just have to hope that it all works out. If it’s meant to be it’ll be, right?
“You gonna make it until midnight?” he asks, walking around and placing his hands on my hips, pulling me against his chest.
“Not if you keep doing that,” I moan, leaning into him, feeling every bit of exhaustion from the day...and Shaw’s semi-hard cock. Yep, that doesn’t help.
“Maybe we should pop this champagne and pour the glasses. We could be home before the clock strikes midnight.”
“Can we do that?” I ask, turning in his arms.
Shaw shrugs, glancing over my head at the people milling about. “Seems like everyone is pretty well buzzed. It looks like our job here is nearly done.”
So, we do. At eleven thirty, we start popping open the champagne and filling glasses that are set out on a long table. When it’s done, Shaw finds Carys, letting her know where to find the remaining booze and that all the champagne has been poured.
Once we’re in the Jeep, my head falls back on the headrest and I really feel the day. A few minutes later, we’re making our way out of the French Quarter. Shaw takes a few side roads to avoid the busier streets and then cuts across Canal until we’re in the Garden District.
When we pull into the drive, the clock on the dashboard reads eleven fifty-eight.
“Midnight on New Year’s Eve is my favorite,” I tell him, turning my head to see him looking at me.
“I could take or leave it, but you might be able to convince me otherwise.”
“Challenge accepted,” I tell him, using my last bits of energy to crawl over the middle and into his lap. Our kiss starts out slow and sweet, but quickly the spark is lit and our breaths come hot and heavy, until the windows of the Jeep are fogged and we’re grinding into each other, chasing our release like horny teenagers.
No, not again. Please, God, no.
For the third time in about thirty minutes, I vomit into the toilet. This time, though, not as much comes out, which is good, I guess, but these dry heaves that are tagging along can fuck right off.
I’m sure I’m not the only one praying to the porcelain god this morning, with it being New Year’s Day but the difference is that I didn’t drink alcohol last night. I barely even ate, just a few appetizers that were being served at the hotel. Even though I was tired when we got home, I felt fine, fine enough to let Shaw ravage my body while I ravaged his in return. I certainly didn’t feel as badly as I do right now, which really bums me out because I was looking forward to spending the morning in bed with Shaw since neither of
us have to work.
And, as hard-headed as I am, even I can admit defeat. After weeks of being tired and sick to my stomach, with the occasional early morning trips to the bathroom, I know it’s time for me to go to the doctor and find out what the hell is going on.
Another round of dry heaves hit me just as Shaw opens the door and rushes to my side. He carefully gathers my hair and holds it back from my face and neck, his fist a makeshift hair tie. I know he’s so worried about me and I can only imagine what seeing me like this is doing to him. He never left Liz’s side when she was sick so, I know this is something he’s done way too many times before.
“How long have you been in here?” His voice is soft, as if the volume will determine whether or not I throw up again.
I answer him with my head still in the bowl, just in case. “About thirty minutes or so.”
“Avery, honey—”
“I know,” I interrupt. “I’ll go to the doctor, I promise, but it’ll be a few days before I can get an appointment. Everything’s closed because of the holiday.”
“Not everything. I’m taking you to the emergency room as soon as you feel like you can leave the bathroom.”
My shoulders slump because I was really trying to avoid going to the hospital, but I know Shaw’s right. At least this way, we’ll know what’s going on and how to deal with it rather than worrying about it until I can make an appointment.
I’m going to be really pissed if I’m told it’s just a virus and there’s nothing I can do about it. Not that I want to be diagnosed with anything serious either, I just want to feel normal again.
I manage to take a quick shower and brush my teeth before Shaw practically carries me to his Jeep. I didn’t feel like eating anything but that didn’t stop him from tossing a bag of dried cereal and a couple packs of crackers in my backpack, though.
Such a thoughtful, caring man. I don’t know what I’d do without him.
He squeezes my hand three times before giving me a quick smile as he drives. He’s being so brave and strong for me, but I can tell this is killing him. He’s scared, like he’s reliving his worst days and it breaks my heart. I don’t know if anything I can say will set his mind at ease, so I return his squeezes with three of my own before bringing our joined hands to my mouth for a kiss.
The emergency room is packed and I’m afraid we’ll be waiting here for hours before seeing a doctor, but I’m surprised when we’re taken to a curtained area shortly after speaking with a triage nurse. I have a feeling the prompt attention is due more to Shaw’s demeanor than my symptoms, but I’m not complaining. The nurse tries to ease our worries buy agreeing it’s probably something viral or the flu, but informs me they’re going to run some blood work just to be on the safe side.
“I fucking hate the smell of hospitals,” Shaw groans once the nurse is gone. I hate that I’m putting him in this position. I can only imagine how he must feel being here and suddenly I wonder if this is the hospital that treated Liz during her illness.
The question is on the tip of my tongue when an older gentleman wearing a white coat steps into the sequestered area and sighs heavily as he takes a look at the computer beside the bed.
Walter D. Briggs, MD is the name on the tag that’s attached to his coat.
“Miss Cole,” he says in a business-like tone mixed with genuine care, “let’s see what we’ve got going on here, shall we?” Turning to me, he offers a gentle smile and then glances to Shaw, giving him an understanding nod. “We’ve seen a lot of flu cases lately, plus multiple viruses going around. I’m sure it’s nothing, but we always like to be on the safe side.”
I inhale and exhale deeply, feeling a sudden rush of panic. Needles are my least favorite thing about going to the doctor and I’ve never been a patient in a hospital before.
Deep breaths.
“Are you feeling sick now?” he asks.
“Um...I’m still feeling tired...a little weak,” I tell him, really trying to listen to my body so I can get whatever this is nipped in the bud. “But I don’t feel nauseous at the moment. It kind of comes and goes. I really hope I don’t have anything contagious though because I work in the food industry and I’ve been around people nonstop for the last few days.”
“Well,” he says, wheeling a small stool over beside the bed, “that’s an even better reason for us to be thorough, we don’t want an epidemic now, do we?”
“No,” I tell him with a small shake of my head.
“Any abdominal pain?” he asks.
“No.”
“Fever?”
I glance over to Shaw and see him watching me intently. “Not that I know of.”
“Good.” He eyes me with an educated stare. “The rest of your vitals seem good. Blood pressure is a little low, but that could be due to fatigue. I’d like to run a full panel on you, just give everything a good look. It shouldn’t take more than a couple hours. Our lab is a little backed up, but we’ll expedite it as fast as we can.”
“Okay,” I tell him, swallowing down the nerves.
He pats my hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I’ll send the nurse back in to draw some blood.”
Suddenly, my stomach feels queasy again. When Shaw stands and begins to pace in the small space, I feel like this is probably all for nothing. I probably have some virus they can’t give me anything for and we’re going to spend the better part of the day in this hospital, a place Shaw hates, for nothing.
“If you want to go, I can call you when I’m ready to leave,” I tell him, trying to give him an out.
He spins around, eyes glaring with an incredulous look on his face. “I’m not leaving you.”
His words mixed with their delivery has me holding my breath. This is so much more for him than a regular visit to the doctor. Shaw is fighting demons. Our routine visit to the ER is a battle for him. “Come here,” I order, holding my hand out to him. I don’t want to make him sick, but if he was going to get something from me, it happened last night.
Slowly, he walks over to me and I wrap my arms around his torso, pulling him into me and resting my head on his chest as I run my hands up his back. Breathing deeply, I coat my lungs with the smell of him, finding solace even as I’m trying to give it. Eventually, he returns the hug and wraps his arms around my shoulders, dropping his head down to rest on mine. We stay like that until a throat clearing draws us apart, but even then, I’m reluctant to let him go.
“Have you had anything to eat or drink in the last eight hours?” she asks, setting her kit down on the cart and walking over to the monitor to type something into my chart.
“No,” I tell her, shaking my head. “Whatever I had last night, was before ten o’clock and it’s gone now.” I give her an awkward laugh, raising my eyebrows to insinuate that I threw it all up without having to say that.
“Okay.” She types a few more things in and then walks over to the bed and asks me to lie back and relax my arm.
I want to be a baby about this. I want to cry for my mama. I want to tell her to forget about it and that I’m feeling better. But instead, I suck it up and lie back, closing my eyes, and thinking about the way Shaw manhandled my body last night before we went to sleep.
After a couple pokes, she releases the tight band from around my bicep, drawing what blood she needs. “I’ll be back shortly,” she says, gathering her supplies and heading for the opening in the curtain. “If you start to feel sick, push the button.”
Shaw’s hand loosens from mine the second she’s out of the room and he cups my cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
The worry etched on his face breaks my heart into pieces, but I force a smile before replying, “I’m fine. I promise.” Placing my hand over his, I fight back a yawn. “I could use some crackers or something...maybe even a small cup of coffee if the nurse says it’s okay?”
His expression changes a little—brightening with purpose. He grabs my backpack and pulls out the dry cereal and a package of crackers he’d insisted on ea
rlier and hands them to me. “I’ll go ask the nurse about the coffee and if she says it’s okay, I’ll go find a vending machine or cafeteria.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, bringing his lingering hand to my mouth and kissing it softly.
“I’ll have my phone on me and turned up. If you need me or anything changes...call me. I’ll be here.”
I smile again, but this time it’s more genuine. “Go. I’m fine.” Lying back in the bed, I curl onto my side. “I’m going to close my eyes for a minute while you’re gone.”
Lying there, I try not to think about Shaw or Liz or what might be wrong with me, and let my mind drift. The white noise of the bustling hospital on the other side of the curtain pulls me into a semi-unconscious state.
“Miss Cole.”
Opening my eyes, I slowly sit up, realizing I might’ve actually fallen asleep for a minute. Glancing over beside the bed, I see the coffee Shaw promised, but no Shaw.
Dr. Briggs is sitting on his rolling stool at the foot of the bed. With an iPad in one hand, he reaches into the breast pocket of his white coat and pulls out a pair of reading glasses, perching them on his nose as he scans the small screen. “We have a few of the results back from the blood work and I think we might have the answer we’re looking for.”
“Okay,” I reply, sitting up fully and feeling more alert with this news. Hopefully, it’s something easy and he can give me something and send me on my way.
“Should we wait for...” he lingers, gesturing over his shoulder.
“Shaw?” I ask. “No, it’s fine. He’s probably just in the bathroom or taking a phone call. Let’s just get this over with.”
He smiles gently, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “Okay.” Setting the iPad on the edge of the bed, he crosses his arms over his chest and commandeers a thoughtful expression.
“The blood test we just ran came back positive for pregnancy.” He just lays that down between us, no inflection, no emotion...just factual. He is a doctor, after all. I’m sure what he’s saying makes perfect sense in a doctor’s world. But his words do not make sense in mine.
