He Said Waiting Is Romantic But Not For Me Chapter 02

He Said Waiting Is Romantic But Not For Me Chapter 02

I typed back with my left hand, one-thumbed.

“I’ll take it. I’ll come in Monday to start the paperwork.”

I sent the message, then walked to the TV stand, squatted down, and pulled open the drawer.

The red two-layer first aid kit was gone.

“Cole,” I called out.

A dozen seconds later, he came out of the guest room.

“What’s up? Can’t find the cream?”

“Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Oh, forgot to tell you.” He tossed the sheet onto the couch. “Last week, Tessa didn’t have any meds at her new place. She cut her hand cutting fruit in the middle of the night, so I just gave her our whole kit. You’re healthy anyway. You never need it.”

So even though I’d almost died at thirty thousand feet, even though my wrist was almost torn open, I didn’t get to use the first aid kit.

But Tessa got the whole thing for a paper cut.

My stomach suddenly flipped.

I grabbed my midsection and sank down against the TV stand.

Cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Cole finally noticed something was off and walked over fast.

“Stomach hurts,” I said through clenched teeth, voice shaking.

“Where’d that come from? We don’t have any stomach meds at home. Hang on—I’ll get you hot water.”

He turned toward the kitchen.

Just then, the guest room door opened.

Tessa came out holding her stomach, face pale.

“Cole… my stomach really hurts. I think I’ve got acute gastroenteritis.”

He walked right past me—still crouched on the floor—with the cup in his hand, and went straight to Tessa, grabbing her arm.

“Did you catch a chill at the airport last night? Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“But Elise…” Tessa glanced at me.

“She’s had stomach issues forever. Hot water fixes her right up.”

Cole didn’t look back. Grabbed his keys. 　　“You’re way too pale. We can’t wait. Let’s go.”

The door slammed shut.

The hot water sat on the island, steam rising into nothing.

My phone slid out of my pocket.

The screen was spiderwebbed with cracks from yesterday’s escape. Now it was completely black. Wouldn’t turn on.

I dug out Cole’s old phone—the one he’d replaced.

The screen lit up. It asked for the passcode.

I typed our anniversary. 0615.

Wrong code.

I paused.

Typed his birthday. 1120.

Wrong.

My birthday.

Still wrong.

I stared at the screen as the timer counted down. Then a ridiculous thought hit me.

My fingers shook as I pressed four numbers.

0912.

Tessa’s birthday.

The screen clicked open.

The cramp in my stomach seemed to vanish in that second.

Instead, a bone-deep cold settled in.

Around noon, Cole finally texted.

“Elise, Tessa’s done with her IV. The doc said she needs to eat light. I’m taking her to get some soup. Is your stomach still hurting? Want me to bring you some?”

I looked at the message and typed back on his old phone.

“No thanks. One question: why is your passcode 0912?”

The little dots showed he was typing. For two whole minutes.

“Tessa lost her phone a while back and borrowed this one for a week. She changed the code so she could unlock it. Then she gave it back and I never reset it. Don’t overthink it. It’s just a code.”

“Elise, why are you getting so paranoid lately? I just spent hours at the hospital with her and I’m exhausted. Can you not pick a fight with me right now?”

I wasn’t picking anything.

I locked the phone and set it on the table.

Then I pulled out my suitcase and started packing.