I narrowed my eyes and twisted my mouth. Maybe I could still spend it with Ashley and Tucker. Would it look weird if Dane and I didn’t spend our first Halloween together? Maybe.
It was thinking of Halloween that had inspired me to grab some candy and go watch a scary movie in the media room. So far, none of the selections had jumped out at me.
Hearing hinges creak, I twisted and watched as Dane strolled into the room.
Stopping near my seat on the front row, he looked from the TV screen to the glass of wine in the cupholder to the bowl of candy on my lap. “What are you doing?”
“Searching for a movie.”
“You look like you’re sulking.”
“That, too.” I shoved a piece of candy in my mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
“I love Halloween.”
He frowned. “And that bothers you?”
“No, it bothers me that I probably won’t celebrate it this year. I’m in a funk, ignore me. Did you need something?” Because it wasn’t like him to seek me out.
“I came to bring you this.” He held up my cell phone. “You left it in the kitchen. I doubted you’d done it on purpose.”
I shot him a grateful smile and took it from him. “Thanks. That’s the one thing about your house that drives me crazy.”
“What?”
“If I lose something, I know there’s an endless number of places it could be. Tracking the object down can sometimes take a while.”
“You’ll get used to it.” His gaze moved to the TV screen. “What are you watching?”
“I don’t know yet. Something scary. I’d invite you to join me, but you’ll say no, and I’m too emotionally fragile right now to handle the rejection.”
One corner of his mouth quirked just a little. “Right.” He left the room.
I shoved yet another piece of candy in my mouth and turned my attention back to the media screen. After scrolling through yet more options, I finally settled on Insidious and sank deeper into my seat. I’d watched the movie dozens of times, but I loved it.
It had only been playing for a minute or so when the door swung open and Dane reentered. I frowned when he sat two seats away and positioned his laptop on, well, his lap. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Working,” he said, his fingers flying over the keyboard.
“In here?”
“Yes. Then you won’t be on your own, which seems to be what’s truly bothering you.”
I swallowed. “Okay. Well. Thank you.”
Without looking away from his laptop screen, he inclined his head.
“Have you never thought of unplugging from technology for a few hours when you get home? You’re always on the clock, you never seem to wind down. It’s not good for you.”
He frowned at his laptop screen. “I don’t have time to wind down.”
Nor did he seem to have any inclination to do it. “Okay.”
“I was talking to Chris over the phone earlier. He mentioned that the dress you bought for the reception is perfect. Then he asked me if I liked the color brown. The dress isn’t brown, is it?”
I smiled. “No, he’s just messing with you. He’s got a weird sense of humor.” I tossed another piece of candy in my mouth. “And, just so you know, I’m keeping the dress after this is over.”
“What do you intend to do with it?”
“Splash fake blood all over it and use it as a Halloween costume next year. It’ll be epic.”
“Hmm.”
“You’re supposed to tell me I can’t stain a designer gown with fake blood and use it as a costume.”
He shrugged. “It’ll be your gown, not mine.”
I sipped my wine. “I’d keep it for my real wedding, whenever that might happen, but I figure that would be in poor taste. And probably bring me bad luck.”
His gaze met mine, broody and unreadable. “Your real wedding?” he echoed, his tone utterly flat.
“Uh-huh. Unlike you, I don’t want to be all by my lonesome for the rest of my days on Earth.”
“What do you want?”
Someone who could give me the things that Dane would never be able to give, just as Owen had pointed out. “A family,” I replied. “And a cat.”
His mouth twitched. “A family and a cat.”
“Maybe I’ll call it Dane. That’s a cat-like name, right?”
He just shook his head and turned back to his laptop.
My mood surprisingly lighter, I settled in to watch the movie. Just as one of my favorite parts approached, I got the weirdest, most indefinable “feeling” and my vision began to blur. My stomach bottomed out, because I knew what that meant.
I straightened, nearly knocking the bowl off my lap. “No, not now.”
“What?”
My pulse quickening, I shuffled forward on my seat and put the bowl on the floor, knowing I wouldn’t have long before I was out of commission. “I’ve got to get to my room.”
“Why?” Dane appeared in front of me. “Vienna, what’s wrong?”
Seeing double of him—hell, of everything—I blinked hard. “It’s just a migraine, but they can get bad.” Already, the world was beginning to spin around me, and my head felt so freakishly heavy it was hard to hold it up. “Double vision. Vertigo. Muscle weakness. Sometimes nausea and head pain, too.” The symptoms tended to creep up on me one at a time but in fast succession.
I pushed to my feet, and my knees wobbled. “Shit.”
Dane scooped me up. “I got you. Come on.”
I weakly fisted his shirt as he carried me out of the room. “Listen, I won’t be able to move much, and my speech will get all slurry. It’s normal. Just leave me on the bed. It’ll all wear off.”
He didn’t say anything. He just carried me through the house and into my room, where he pulled back the satin coverlet and then very carefully lay me on the bed. “You have pills for these migraines?” he asked.
“Nightstand drawer.” The words came out low and garbled. Feeling like someone had sucked every bit of energy out of my system, I closed my eyes and lay there like a heavy weight. Despite being mentally alert and not in the least bit sleepy, I couldn’t fight the physical lethargy.
Worse, the whole world-spinning-around-me sensation didn’t cease when I lay down. No, it left me with the most godawful feeling. Like I was lying on a rocking boat.
“Sit up. Take these.” Dane helped me rise just enough to take two pills with a glass of water he must have gotten from the bathroom. “Good girl.” He eased me back down on the bed and then sat beside me, leaning against the headboard.
I would have again told him that he didn’t have to stay with me, but I knew the words would have come out all slurry and faint. I hated the migraines. Hated how they left me feeling so drained that everything felt like an effort—even the simple process of breathing in and out. Like there was a freaking truck sitting on my chest, crushing it.
There was a whirring sound that I recognized as the electronic shades lowering. Although my eyes were closed, I felt the difference in the lighting.
I curled into a ball—a move that was much harder than it should have been. Not only had my muscle control gone to shit, my entire body felt like it weighed of lead.