Page 83 of Embracing the Beat
The familiar flavors mix in my mouth. This is home. A warm summer day, a cheese steak, a cute guy…this is what I was missing all those months on the tour, all those months before.
Contentment.
I grab my lemonade and motion for the sandwich he’s taken several bites of.
“Hey! I want some of that one. It’s my favorite.”
He hands it over, still chewing, and I try the new sandwich.
He polishes off the sandwich from Pat’s and asks, “So, what did you think?” His voice slightly muffled from the napkin he holds in front of his mouth.
“It was okay,” I concede. “But I’m still partial to Geno’s. And I think you are too, since you ate most of that one as well.”
“Are you still hungry? I can grab another one.”
“Are you?” I ask with a laugh.
He grins. “I’m good, but if you want another one, we can head back.”
His fingers play with mine on top of the table, tracing along the knuckles of my index finger.
“I’m good right here.” I say, returning his smile.
“Did you have fun today?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I’ve never had so much fun with…history.” A sharp pain shoots through my stomach, stealing my breath and sending a sour tang to my mouth.
West’s expression goes from relaxed to concerned in an instant.
“Michaela?”
The sour sensation continues to build, and I try a sip of the lemonade, hoping to get rid of the bitter flavor.
“Umm, I’m not sure.” Closing my eyes, I take several deep breaths to clear the overwhelming nausea building in my throat.
“Baby?” His warmth slides next to me on my bench, his fingers brushing against my forehead.
“I’m—I’m fine,” I try again, taking a deep breath as my stomach lurches. “Is—is there a bathroom somewhere close?”
He points to the other side of the park as my stomach gurgles again. I’m not going to make it. Instead, I stand and bolt for a copse of trees, where I drop to my knees and lose the sandwiches I ate.
“Michaela?” West comes up behind me, rubbing my back and holding my ponytail away from my neck.
I wave him away, but he stays where he is. Finally, the sharp pains fade and I stand, leaning against the tree.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Nothing to be sorry for. Are you feeling better?” he asks and hands me a napkin.
Now if only I had some water.
“Yeah. Are you okay?”
Other than the concern on his face, he appears to be fine. But considering how quickly I got sick, it must be food poisoning.
