NORA
I've been pacing the length of the hotel suite for the last twenty minutes, my stomach in knots.
Marcellus has been in the bathroom for almost an hour. He didn't look good when we got here. His hand stayed tight around mine the entire ride to the hotel, but his eyes were distant, like he wasn't really here. I kept asking if he was okay. He kept saying he was fine.
He's not fine.
I stop pacing and stare at the closed bathroom door. The longer I look at it, the more uneasy I feel. What if something's actually wrong? What if the migraine came back worse? Or what if... whatever happened on the tarmac is still affecting him?
I chew on my bottom lip, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.
Fuck it.
I march over to the bathroom and knock once.
"Marcellus?"
He doesn't answer.
So I kn
