Chapter 7 No.7

Alexia woke up because the pain was gone. Or rather, it was masked by a warmth that enveloped her.

She opened her eyes. She was staring at a chest. A broad, muscular chest covered in a grey t-shirt. An arm was draped over her waist, heavy and secure.

Jensen.

For a split second, her brain forgot. For a split second, she was just his wife, and they were just sleeping. She breathed in his scent-cedar and sleep-and felt a treacherous pang of safety.

Then, her body remembered.

A wave of nausea so violent it felt like a punch rolled through her. She gagged.

She shoved his arm away and scrambled out of bed.

Jensen woke up instantly. "What?"

Alexia didn't answer. She ran to the bathroom, slamming the door. She collapsed in front of the toilet.

She retched, but nothing came up. Her stomach was empty. It was just dry heaving, painful spasms that made her eyes water.

She heard the bedroom door open. Then the bathroom door handle turned.

Jensen stood in the doorway. His hair was messy from sleep. He looked at her huddled on the floor, clutching the porcelain.

His face hardened.

Am I that repulsive? he asked. His voice was ice.

Alexia looked up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "What?"

You wake up next to me and you vomit. Message received, Alexia.

He grabbed a hand towel from the rack and threw it at her. It landed on her head, heavy and soft.

Clean yourself up. Stop the drama.

He turned to leave. "Oh, and tonight is the Gala for the Children's Hospital. Wear the blue dress."

Alexia pulled the towel off her face. "No."

He stopped.

I'm not going, she said. "I'm sick, Jensen. I need a doctor."

You're always sick, he sneered. "If you're not in that car at 7:00 PM, I will cut the funding to your grandfather's estate maintenance. I know Clark is helping you, but the estate bills go through the main trust. My trust."

Alexia felt the blood drain from her face. "You wouldn't."

Try me.

He walked out.

Alexia sat on the cold tile floor. She couldn't stop shaking.

She waited until she heard the front door slam. Then she got dressed. Jeans. A sweater. Sneakers.

She took the service elevator down to avoid the doorman.

On the ground floor, the elevator stopped. The doors opened.

A man in a sharp suit stepped in. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes that held a calm intelligence. He seemed out of place among the usual residents.

He saw Alexia leaning against the wall, clutching her side.

Hey, he said. His voice was deep, gentle. "Are you okay?"

Alexia nodded, not trusting her voice.

He didn't look away. He pressed the button to hold the door. "You don't look okay. Do you need me to call a car for you?"

Alexia looked at him. Really looked at him. The concern in his eyes felt alien, something she hadn't seen in years.

I'm fine, she whispered. "Just... a stomach bug."

He stepped back, giving her space, but his gaze remained watchful.

If you're sure, he said, his tone suggesting he wasn't. "Take care of yourself."

The doors opened to the lobby.

Alexia stumbled out into the street. She hailed a cab.

Urgent Care, she told the driver. "Please hurry."