Page 101 of Perfect Distraction
He looked at Lauren. “Come here.”
He was desperate for contact with her. He felt terrible that his actions may have put her job at risk, but he’d meant what he said—he’d do it again every time. There was no way he’d let that jackass talk to her like that or bully her into going out with him.
Andrew hadn’t bullied her. He’d tricked her.
Huge difference.
She stood and came to his bedside. Her moss colored eyes were filled with tears, and her chin trembled. He lifted his hand and she took it immediately, a tear spilling over and sliding down her cheek.
“Jeni,” he began, able to get only a few words out between breaths. “Make…yourself scarce, will you?” He paused and winked at Lauren. “She doesn’t…need to see us…making out.”
“There won’t be any making out,” Lauren countered.
“That’s…debatable.”
“I’m definitely leaving.” Jeni stood with a huff. She eyed him sternly. “You have twenty minutes.”
When the door closed behind her, Andrew tugged on Lauren’s hand, and she sat on the bed, her hip curving into his side.
“You’re so…beautiful,” he began, every few words punctuated with an inhale, “you take…my breath away.”
“That’s the bleomycin.”
He shook his head. “It’s…you.”
Another tear fell, and he reached up with his opposite hand to wipe it away with his thumb. “Don’t cry. I’m…fine.”
She took a stuttered breath. “It’s the bleomycin. It has to be. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” Her eyes clamped shut with frustration, and she shook her head. “Yesterday, you were coughing at dinner, and when we were watching the documentary, I noticed you were breathing hard.” She opened her eyes and regarded him, her cheeks reddening. “Like a complete idiot, a self-absorbed idiot, I thought it was because of me. I can’t believe I didn’t even think about it…I…” She started to cry in earnest.
“Please…stop,” Andrew begged. He reached for her and pulled her against his chest. “Don’t cry.”
She wedged herself into the single bed with him, and he held her, kissing her hair, her forehead, her eyelids…wherever he could reach.
“Why didn’t you say anything? Tell me you were having symptoms?” She sniffled. “I told you this could happen and that it was important to catch it early!”
“You did?”
She glared at him. “You really did not listen to a word I said that day, did you?”
“I…told you. Was busy…trying not to…stare at your mouth…and chest. A man…can only take…so much.”
“Well, now look where we are.” She closed her eyes. “This is my fault. I never should have gotten involved. If I hadn’t done your education that da—”
“Kiss me,” he demanded. “Stop…talking crazy…and kiss me.”
Wiping a tear from her cheek, Lauren tilted her face up and brushed his lips with hers, and it felt so right. It was as if the world had been spinning off its axis and had been put back in position. His body tightened, and he silently willed it to stay calm.
“You can’t…tell me this…is wrong,” he breathed. “If being…together…is wrong…I don’t want…to be right.”
She didn’t respond and instead lay her forehead against his chest. His heart sped up, fear and anxiety churning in his gut.
Something was off. He could feel it.
“Tell me…you love me,” he said, unable to find even an ounce of pride. He needed to hear her say it, tell him that she was his.
She lifted her head, tears continuing to slowly stream down her face. His shirt was damp where she’d rested her head. “I love you.” One of her hands touched his face, her fingers brushing what would have been his hairline. “But…”
“No.” He shook his head, his own eyes burning. “No buts…not right now. Please.”
