My head is pounding. I'm going to be sick. I roll onto my side and dry heave--I haven't been able to eat anything all day. I didn't want to tell Tim I felt sick to my stomach. Today was too important. Oh s**t, what have I done? I remember going into the conference room with lunch, thinking I could go lie down in my office if I could just make it through this one task.
I didn't really think I had a stomach bug. What happened? As I take stock of my surroundings, I realize I'm on a gurney. I open my eyes and see Tim's face, deeply concerned. “What's going on?" I croak.
He kisses my hand. “We're in an ambulance, babe. You fainted. You've got a nasty cut." I hear the siren, realize the jolting feeling is the ambulance rocking as it hurries down the cobbled side streets behind Stag Law.
