“Possibly, but she swears blind she isn’t. Says she didn’t drink enough for it to be the booze.”
I tried to remember everyone’s consumption from the night before, and had to admit I didn’t recall her slamming down shots the way the guys had. She’d only had one glass of wine with dinner, too.
But if it wasn’t the alcohol, then that likely meant…
“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath.
“Food poisoning,” Bernard finished the thought for me, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “She did have a whole bloody plate of oysters.”
I winced as another violent retch echoed from the bathroom, then closed my eyes with a sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
This was not good.
“I’ll check on her,” I said. “Go grab a coffee, then can you start on cabins?”
“It would be my pleasure, m’lady.”
He gave an exaggerated bow at the waist, one hand pressed over his stomach like a royal guard. It pulled a reluctant smile from me.
“You alright?” he asked, his voice softening.
I tilted my head, one brow arched at his searching gaze. “Peachy. Why?”
“Just checking on my chief.”
“Uh-huh. More like fishing for gossip. Spill. What have you heard?”
He flicked imaginary long hair over his shoulder, despite the fact his was cropped close to his beautiful head. “Only that you and ol’ Cheffy in there used to knock boots.”
Bernard stuck his tongue in his cheek as he inspected his nails, then flashed me a wicked grin.
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
I didn’t know if I wanted to scream, cry, or yeet myself off the top deck — but in my delirium, all I managed was a groan muffled behind a grin. “It was a long time ago.”
“Right. So long ago that rooming with his new girlfriend isn’t awkward in the slightest.”
“Cabins, Bernard.”
He snickered. “Yes, yes, all work, no play.” He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze on the way past. “It’s going to be alright,” he said, nodding toward where Leah was.
But he and I both knew the truth.
If there was a stew down, it was going to be hell on both of us.
“Leah,” I said, announcing my presence with a gentle knock on her cabin door. I slid inside when she didn’t answer, then inched the bathroom door open.
The poor southern belle was splayed out on the ground, her legs in a stag shape, arms draped over the toilet seat, head resting on her forearms. She groaned, turning just enough to glance up at me through her greasy hair.
“I swear, Em. I’m not hungover.”
“I believe you,” I said. I bent next to her, holding her hair out of the way as she dry-heaved into the toilet. When she caught her breath, I rubbed her back and sighed. “I think it’s safe to say you need to be in bed today.”
“No,” she whined. “I’m fine. I… I just need…”
She vomited again, her shoulders deflating.
“You need rest and to hydrate. I’ll call provisions and add some electrolyte drinks to our order. I’m going to bring you some crackers to nibble on, and when you’re ready, Finn can make you some broth.”