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As I weave through the small crowd, I take slow, measured breaths, trying to keep the lingering queasiness at bay. It’s mostly gone now, but every so often, I get a little wave of discomfort, like my stomach can’t decide if it’s completely on board with the day’s events.
Too much ice cream, I guess.
Inside the café, the air is cooler, the fans overhead stirring the scent of fresh bread and sweet pastries. The line at the counter is short, and a chalkboard menu hangs above, listing drinks and food in casual, handwritten script.
I spot the bathroom sign near the back and make my way there quickly.
Once inside, I lean against the sink for a moment, taking a deep breath. I catch my reflection in the mirror—slightly flushed from the heat, strands of hair sticking to my temples.
I shake my head at myself. “Get it together, Annie,” I mumble.
Turning on the faucet, I splash cool water on my face, letting the chill ease some of the lingering nausea. I take a few deep breaths, pressing my fingers against my temples.
“Too much ice cream. Just too much ice cream,” I murmur to myself, trying to push away the nagging thought that it’s not just that.
I grip the edges of the sink, swallowing against the unease curling in my stomach.
No. It’s nothing. Maybe the heat, maybe the change in food. Traveling can throw your body out of sync, right?
Still, something feels… off.
I press a hand lightly against my stomach. It’s not just nausea. There’s a heaviness there, a strange awareness of my own body that I can’t shake.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Don’t do this, Annie. Don’t spiral.
Forcing myself to take another steadying breath, I stand up straight, smooth my dress, and decide to shake it off.
Whatever this is, it’ll pass.
I push open the bathroom door and step back into the café, the scent of coffee and fresh bread wrapping around me again. The hum of conversation blends with the occasional clang of dishes behind the counter, but I barely register it as I make my way toward the exit.
The moment I step outside, the sun hits me full force, the heat instantly sinking into my skin. The street is still bustling, vendors calling out to tourists, the rhythmic strumming of a guitar echoing from a café nearby. I take a steadying breath, shaking off the lingering unease from earlier.
Cole and Robbie are still sitting on the bench down the street where I left them, Robbie swinging his legs as he chats animatedly, probably about something he saw today. Cole listens, one arm resting across the back of the bench, his expression relaxed.
I exhale slowly. Everything is fine.
But then, as I start walking toward them, something catches my eye.
A small storefront a few steps ahead. White and blue signage. A green cross hanging above the door.
A pharmacy.
I slow down instinctively, my pulse stuttering.
My palms feel clammy, my throat suddenly dry. My feet frozen to the sidewalk.
I glance toward Cole and Robbieagain. Neither of them is looking my way.
Before I can overthink it, I push open the door and step inside.
Chapter Thirty Five
Cole
The sun hangs low in the sky, casting golden streaks across the waves as they roll lazily onto the shore. The air is warm, the breeze gentle, and the rhythmic sound of the ocean fills the silence between me and my thoughts.
Robbie is knee-deep in the water, laughing as he chases the foamy edges of the waves, his small feet sinking into the wet sand with every step.