"What time is it?" he asks.
"Early. You don't have to be at the clubhouse for another hour."
"Good, then I'm staying right here."
We lie there for a while just being close, his hand tracing patterns on my back.
"I love you," he says quietly.
"I love you too."
"Even when I hog the blankets?"
"Especially when you hog the blankets."
He kisses my forehead. "I need to shower and head out. Pyro wants to talk about something."
"Okay."
He gets up and I watch him walk to the bathroom, listen to the water start.
Then the nausea hits. It comes out of nowhere, sudden and overwhelming. I barely make it to the kitchen sink before I'm throwing up.
This is the fifth time this week.
At first, I thought it was food poisoning, then stress from work, maybe the flu, but it's always in the morning and it passes after an hour or so.
I rinse my mouth and lean against the counter. My hands are shaking. Rush comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, just felt sick for a second."
"You've been sick a lot lately."
"It's probably just a bug."
He walks over and touches my forehead. "You don't feel warm."
"I'm fine, really."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Go to work. I'll see you tonight."
He studies me for a second, then kisses my temple. "Call me if you need anything."
"I will."
He gets dressed and leaves, and I stand there in my kitchen trying to ignore the quiet panic building in my chest.
I'm at the clubhouse that afternoon helping Gráinne organize a birthday party for one of the kids.
We're going through decorations when I have to excuse myself and rush to the bathroom.
When I come back, Gráinne is watching me with concern.
"You okay?" she asks.