It was a rough night. I couldn’t even keep down water. My fever was high. But Chase was right there with me through it all. He even skipped his usual morning workout to stay with me.
I haven’t thrown up for a couple of hours, but I also haven’t eaten or had anything to drink. And I don’t plan to. The thought of it alone makes me feel sick. Not to mention the fact that my body feels like it’s been run over by a truck. Everything aches.
“So,” Chase says, “I hate to even tell you this, but last night, after your formal, I was going to surprise you.”
“With what?” I ask.
“Remember how you asked about who I was texting and I told you I was planning something with your mom for a special occasion?”
“Yeah.”
“Your birthday is Monday.” He gets up, goes in his closet, and wheels out two suitcases. “I planned a trip. For us. To Chicago. To celebrate.”
“Oh, Chase, I’m so sorry. That was so sweet of—”
Chase holds up one finger, stopping me, and then he turns, runs into his bathroom, and pukes.
And pukes.
And even makes some pathetic moaning sounds.
I grab the bowl by the table and heave into it.
“What a pair we are, huh?” Chase says when he comes out, moving slowly. He carefully gets in the bed next to me.
“Not only did I ruin your plans, but I also made you sick, Chase,” I cry out. Well, then I actually start crying.
He hugs me. “It will be okay. Remember when we both got sick with the chicken pox at the same time?”
“Yeah. Your parents were out of town, and mine quarantined us in their bedroom in an attempt to not get everyone else sick.”
“And we got to watch movies and eat popcorn and lie around all day.”
I look at our typical popcorn bowl that’s still in my lap, then set it aside. “Popcorn doesn’t sound very good right now, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Chase says, getting up and running back in the bathroom. Where he pukes again.
Sometime later that day, I’m able to keep down a little juice, but Chase is still looking quite ragged, and his fever has yet to break.
“Tell me everything you had planned,” I tell him, trying to get his mind off how bad he feels.
“So we can pretend we are there now?”
“Yeah.”
“Your mom booked our hotel. Said it was your birthday. I’m pretty sure it was a fabulous suite overlooking Lake Michigan. We were going to fly there this morning, get checked in, and have lunch at a place by the lake. We were going to explore the city a little, starting with Millennium Park to see Crown Fountain and Cloud Gate, which most people call The Bean. It seems like the place in Chicago that you have to get a picture at. After that, I had tickets for The Art Institute. I know when you and your mom travel to Europe, you always love seeing museums, and this one has mostly paintings, which I thought you would enjoy.”
“I can just picture it, Chase. It would have been the perfect day.”
“I think it would have been. We’d go back to the hotel from there. I had packed some champagne, and there was supposed to be a cake waiting for you. Then, we were going to change and go see Wicked, which I know is your favorite, then dinner at an Italian place your mother suggested near the theater.”
“I do love Wicked.”
“And I love Italian food,” Chase says with a little smile, but quickly, it fades. “Although it doesn’t sound good right now.”
“I’m sorry I ruined it.”
“Actually, I’m glad you got sick when you did. It would have sucked to be on the trip when it happened. We’re much happier here, in our bed.”
“That’s true,” I say. “Wanna tell me the rest?”
“The whole next day was devoted to shopping and eating. Monday, we would have slept in late, then flown back here.”
I sigh dreamily. “I love you, Chase. I think I’m going to go to sleep for a bit.”
“Me, too,” he says.
