She jumped out of bed and ran for the bathroom. Used to living alone and desperate to reach the commode before she threw up all over the hall, she didn’t think about the fact that the bathroom door was partially closed. She simply pushed it open and made it to the toilet just in time.
As she kneeled in front of the toilet bowl, resting her forehead on the cool porcelain, the memories receded and the world started to come back into focus. It was then she realized the water in the shower was running. Scratch that: It was shutting off. The shower curtain rings clinked together as the curtain whooshed back.
Her face still buried in the toilet bowl, she mumbled an affirmative. No way was she going to turn her head and get an eyeful of her naked, wet husband. As much as the thought tempted a part her, she didn’t need any more fodder for dreams that’d only go bad.
“I’m sure,” she told him. “Last night’s dinner must not have agreed with me.” She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping he didn’t remember that they’d shared a frozen pizza. How often did people get sick from eating pizza?
Silence. It stretched out for so long that Kari started scrambling for another, more plausible excuse. No way was she going to attempt to explain the ugly truth. She and Damien were only going to know each other for a couple of months — not nearly long enough for her to trust him with her past.
Figuring there’d be nothing too embarrassing at her eye level, Kari carefully slanted a glance sideways and realized that she was indeed near the edge of the bathtub. She also was treated to a side view of Damien’s calf.
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