Forever With the Homewrecker (BOOK 4)

18

Adora (a few days later)

I walked downstairs and yawned, raising my arms over my head. I stopped in my tracks when I made it to the bottom of the staircase, sniffling.

I walked into the kitchen and smiled when my eyes landed on Santiago cooking.

"Morning, baby," he greeted, smiling as he flipped an egg in the pan.

"Morning," I said, smiling as I walked over to him.

I pressed a kiss to his cheek, wrapping an arm around his middle.

"Did you rest?"

"I did, yeah," I said, nodding, "you?"

"Mm hmm."

He pulled out a pack of bacon from the fridge, and for some reason, it looked absolutely unappealing to me.

"What time do you work today?" He asked, opening up the pack as he looked over at me.

I stumbled on my words for a few seconds, my stomach hurting as I watched him pull out a few strips of the raw bacon.

"U-uh, I'm planning on going in around ten," I said, rubbing my fingers through my hair.

He just shot me a cautious look before placing the bacon in the frying pan.

As soon as the scent hit my nose, my stomach seemed to churn like it hadn't in a very long time, puke churn.

"Oh, God," I muttered, running to the nearest bathroom.

I knelt down in front of the toilet and about the time I did so, I puked up whatever I had in my stomach.

"Baby?"

He walked into the bathroom and knelt down beside me, holding my hair back. "Hey, you're okay."

I just let out a few shaky breaths, scoffing as I flushed the toilet. I couldn't look at puke without wanting to puke even more. Most people couldn't, it was disgusting.

"What do you think it was?" He asked, his hand rubbing up and down my back.

I leaned against his leg, closing my eyes. I shook my head and sighed, my palm against my forehead. "I totally screwed up."

"What do you mean?" He asked, his fingers now running through my hair.

"One of my guys, he came in sick the other day," I said, looking up at him, "he kept begging me to just let him come in, I knew he had the stomach virus and eventually got tired of him asking."

"Baby," he muttered, sighing, "I hate when you're sick."

"I don't even know what triggered it," I said, "my stomach wasn't even hurting this morning."

"Before you saw the bacon," he said.

My stomach began to churn again and I leaned up, puking up the rest of whatever I had in my stomach in the toilet.

"Yeah, you're sick," he said, sighing, "you're not going to work today."

"Santiago-"

"And neither am I."

"No," I said, looking over at him as I wiped the corner of my mouth, "no, you've got things to do and every day of the week is full already. Go, I'll be fine by myself. Promise."

He just looked at me, his stubborn look on his face.

"You've got a billion dollar operation to run," I said, smiling, "go."