hot mess express
. . .
Ellie
Ellie’s Guide toProfessional CuddlingBeing a Fake FiancéeNOT Falling for Your Fake Fiancé, Tip #17: Lying takes a toll. Liquor helps, but moderation is key. …Learn from my mistake.
“Cade!” I fought the urge to throw up while trying to wiggle myself free. “What are you doing? Put me down.”
He very noticeably didnotput me down, instead following the route back to our cabin. Every step made my stomach heave, and I clung to the front of Cade’s shirt, curling against him to brace myself against the motion.
And if my face found itself tucked into his neck until every breath inhaled his woodsy scent, then the nausea was to blame.
Too bad my rolling stomach ruined the moment, and I moaned pitifully. “Um, I’m going to be sick?—”
“Not yet,” Cade ordered, as if I could justdecidenot to throw up. “We’re almost there.”
He cleared a few stairs with one jump, raced down a hallway, and practically tore down the door to our cabin, before placing me right in front of the toilet.
I promptly puked my guts out.
It wasn’t pretty. Or fun. Or even a slight bit of relief.
In fact, I would’ve preferred death.
Cade crouched next to me, pulling my hair back and saving it from getting covered in vomit. He rubbed a steady, reassuring hand over my bare back, while I burned with mortification.
My embarrassment tripled when the diamond ring sparkled at me from my death grip on the toilet seat.
I flung my hand toward Cade. “Take it off—I don’t want to get vomit on it!”
Cade took my hand and gently slid the ring off without questioning me. I looked up long enough to see him set it on the vanity and return to my side before another wave rose up, and I turned back to the bowl.
Hot tears spilled down my cheeks as my stomach heaved again. When I’d slipped into this gorgeous dress earlier, I’d never imagined I’d end up crumpled on the floor and puking my guts out in it.
When the vomiting eased for a moment, another pathetic moan escaped me. I didn’t dare lift my head to face Cade, and he didn’t stop running his fingertips over my back.
It was almost peaceful, until something soft and furry rubbed against my ankle.
“Stay away, Whiskey!” I cried, clinging to the bowl. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
He meowed in protest.
“I got him.” Cade took one of my hands, pulling it back to grip the ponytail he’d gathered my hair into, then got up from beside me. The fur disappeared from my ankle next, and I flushed the toilet while Cade was gone.
The door clicked shut, and he settled in next to me again. I wasn’t sure how he did it, but he retook my hair and tied something around it to keep it pulled back.
I whimpered as the full weight of the situation sank in. “See? Our deal is so stressful, it’s making me physically ill.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t the alcohol?” Cade asked dryly.
Moaning, I slumped against the toilet. “You don’t understand. I can’t keep lying to all those lovely people when all they’ve done is be nice to me.”
Minus Candace, who seemed to loathe me with a burning passion.
Cade’s hand found my back again, rubbing soothingly. “Sure you can.”
“I really can’t. It’s too much.”