Page 40 of Accidentally Falling For My Best Friend (Chicago Awakenings #2)
I nod and enter my room. I take a second to unpack my things, wondering if there’s an iron in here anywhere, but I settle on hanging my clothes in the bathroom and hoping for the best. Oakley’s been blowing up my phone all day, and I’ve been trying to keep up with his conversation without completely ignoring Aspen.
Oakley
Seriously, this is bullshit. It doesn’t feel like Christmas at all when you’re not here.
Parker
Aren’t you with your brothers?
Oakley
It isn’t the saaaame.
I laugh aloud as I picture him rolling his eyes.
Oakley
So, how was the flight? Did you have any trouble getting there on time after getting up late?
I’d sent him a quick update on our way to the airport, but didn’t have time for details.
I hate lying to him, but the truth is, there’s nothing Oak could do to help me with the forgotten insulin and other supplies.
You’re not supposed to put insulin in checked luggage because the temperature can’t be maintained as well as in a carry-on, but I confirmed I didn’t have any back-ups of my other supplies as well.
It’s not like I could walk into a pharmacy and get more.
You need a prescription, and even if I tried to call my doctor now, it’s Christmas Eve, their office is closed, and I’d hate to bother whoever is on-call to attempt to get one sent here where the pharmacies are probably also closed.
On our drive from the airport, I was reminded it’s normal for businesses in the south to just close down on Sundays and holidays, even gas stations, so I’m sure the drug stores have similar hours.
I’ll be fine. I still have the insulin in my pump . So, I don’t tell Oakley about forgetting the medical stuff, but that does remind me, I need a phone charger.
Parker
We got to our gate after our boarding group had been called, but we made it. We’re at Aspen’s parents’ place now. I did forget to pack my phone charger this morning, though, so I need to see if Aspen has an extra one.
Oakley
Damn, that’s annoying. Glad you made it okay.
Oakley
I miss you.
Fuck. Those three words make my heart race.
Ever since he casually mentioned wanting to kiss me on Thanksgiving, I feel like I’ve been reading into his every move, every word, trying to figure out if he’s acting and speaking like we’re just best friends who hook up or if there’s a chance he could be feeling the same way about me that I do for him.
I know we couldn’t publicly date without me risking everything, but I can’t help it.
I want to know if Oakley might reciprocate even a sliver of the love I feel for him.
It took me over twenty years to find out I was attracted to my best friend.
I’m all but convinced that he’s the only one who could ever make me feel like this.
Every moment of my life that’s been spent with Oak is better for it.
He’s added so much sunshine to even my darkest days.
Since the first conversation we had when we met, I’ve been happier, felt less alone in the world, and it’s entirely because of him.
There’s no one else on Earth who could make me feel safer, more secure in who I am, and more appreciated than Oakley does.
Add in how fucking turned on he makes me now that I know I’m attracted to him.
How the moment we’re alone, I want to tear off his clothes and kiss every inch of his body, how I want him inside of me, connected as much as physically possible.
Even if we’re destined to be with other people, I know I’m lucky to have experienced this kind of connection with someone at all.
Parker
Miss you too, have fun with your family. I have to shower and get ready to meet the parents.
Oakley
Fuuuuck, don’t tell me you’re about to be naked when I’m not allowed to sneak away and video chat.
Damn, that sounds hot. Oak and I are always together, so there’s never been a need to video call or send each other dirty texts, but the idea has blood rushing to my cock.
Parker
Next time.
I have no idea how long Aspen’s parents’ church thing is, so I end up rushing through my shower and get ready quickly.
She comes back to get me and offers a tour of the house, and I appreciate that it’s a very practical tour meant to help me get around the place, rather than focusing on any of the expensive decor or design.
After it’s done, we decide to sit outside by the pool.
We grab some water to drink, and she tells me more about what to expect with her parents.
She doesn’t have any siblings, but she does have a few cousins who will be joining us for the formal Christmas brunch tomorrow morning.
She doesn’t get along with any of them, explaining that her dad and his brother always pinned them against each other, trying to always have their kid be the best. The cousins are also the ones who would get more money from the trust if Aspen is cut-off, and she hates that her money will likely end up in their ungrateful hands.
When her parents get home, it’s nearly dinner time. Between the travel and the time change, we skipped lunch, and I’m starving. Her family has a personal chef who we met on our tour. They’ve been inside preparing dinner, but they left as soon as it was ready.
After introductions, we all sit down in a very formal dining room, and my stomach makes an obnoxious sound, letting everyone at the table know just how hungry I am.
Dinner is a meatloaf with asparagus, so the main source of carbs would be whatever sauce they’re serving with both, and if they used breadcrumbs in the loaf.
I should have asked the chef for an ingredient list before they left, but I have a headache, probably from how little I’ve eaten today, and it’s made me a little foggy mentally.
The food tastes great, though, and I’m tempted to ask for more when I finish, still not really feeling full. I make an educated guess on the amount of carbs. Since I've been diabetic for so long, it’s second nature to me, and I program my pump with how much insulin I need.
“Young people and their phones, I swear, Mary. The men at the office can’t stay off of theirs for an entire meal either.
They don’t even realize they’re being disrespectful,” Aspen’s father says to his wife, presumably about me using my pump.
Apparently, checking a phone would be rude, but he’s allowed to talk with a mouth full of food.
“That’s his insulin pump, Father. I told you that Parker has diabetes,” Aspen defends, sounding as exasperated as I feel.
Both of her parents seem like shitty people in general, and it’s clear they think their money makes them more important than other people.
I expected having to come here as Aspen’s fake boyfriend meant I wouldn’t get along with them, but still, I had underestimated just how much patience I would need to have during one meal in their presence.
I’m trying to play my part and not rock the boat, but they’re making it difficult.
“Parker, what is it you do again?” her father asks, turning his full attention to me with what is probably meant to be an intimidating glare. The conversation during the meal was mostly about the plans for tomorrow, but I guess we’ve moved onto interrogation time.
“I’m the CFO of Caldwell Hotels,” I say, kind of hating that I know these people will be impressed by my title, but at least I’ll be playing my role of acceptable boyfriend well.
They both give approving hums, nodding like I’ve passed a test. As if they didn’t know exactly what I do already.
Then her father launches into more complaining.
“I’d bet you deal with a lot of bullshit from your employees too.
Just last week we were expecting a shipment of new supplies and had another delay.
The office manager, this gay Latino kid who’s probably way too young to be in charge of anyone at like twenty-five, no doubt a diversity hire, had the audacity to blame the weather.
If you know your supplies are coming from the north in December, make a fucking plan for that, don’t come crying to me that now we’re going to be over budget and behind our timeline. ”
Aspen cuts in before I get the chance. “Father, that man’s race, age, or sexual orientation have no impact on his ability to do his job. They were completely unnecessary details to include in your complaint.”
He rolls his eyes. “I was just describing him so you could have a visual. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There actually is something wrong with it. You sound racist, homophobic, and like you’re discriminating based on his age. If you talk like that at work, I’m shocked you haven’t had HR complaints.”
I love that Aspen isn’t afraid to put him in his place, even if she isn’t comfortable living her full truth with them. Her father humphs out a big sigh, rolling his eyes again.“I swear, the more time you spend in that city, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
“Honestly, darling, you should know better than to talk back to your elders like that,” her mother adds in a sugary tone that’s probably intended to mask her poor attitude.
“Well, as much fun as this has been, I think we’re ready to call it a night,” Aspen announces, dramatically pushing her seat out from the table. I hurry to follow her, giving her parents a quick nod goodnight, and her mother calls out something about making sure we sleep in our own rooms.
It’s still pretty early for us to actually go to bed, so we decide to watch a Christmas movie in their home theater. Aspen has somehow never seen Christmas Vacation , so we put it on, attempting to distract ourselves with fake family holiday drama that is far more entertaining than our own.
Even though I went during dinner, I have to go to the bathroom again before we can start the movie, which of course has me worried that my blood sugar is already climbing because frequent urination can be a symptom.
But I’ve also had a lot to drink today. I jumped at the offered coffee on the plane, and the dry air usually makes me thirsty, so I had a few cups of water as well. I’m not sure how much, though, since the flight attendant kept refilling my glass. And I’ve had more since being here.
Being thirsty is another symptom of a high blood sugar level.
I check my pump for what feels like the hundredth time since my monitor was pulled out and confirm that my continuous insulin rate appears to be delivering properly.
Then why do I feel like my blood sugar is high? Am I just psyching myself out?
I stick to water during the movie, not wanting to deal with more carbs, especially because I’m worried I might have underestimated how much insulin to give myself for dinner.
I’m feeling dehydrated, and my muscles are feeling tight, which happens when my levels get high, so I program the pump to give myself even more insulin, confirming that there’s still plenty of the medication in the reservoir, and try to relax.
The movie is one of my favorites. Oakley and I usually spend Christmas Eve watching it while we wrap presents, and when I send him a picture, he sends a similar one back that he’s also watching it.
I like that even in different states, we’re still in sync.
But after the stress of today, I’m having trouble focusing.
When it’s over, Aspen walks me back to my room so I don’t get lost, and we stop for more water on the way. My mouth is really dry, and my muscles feel like they’re being squeezed to the point of pain— my blood sugar is definitely high .
I give myself even more insulin, but at this point, I’m worried there might be a problem with my connection site.
I’ve given myself way more insulin than the amount of food I’ve had today should have called for, but I don’t think my level has gone down at all.
As much as I’d like to say I’m just being paranoid and that my symptoms are a result of me being worried, I can’t keep ignoring that I’m also nauseous, another concerning symptom.
Even though it’s getting to be pretty late, and I’m exhausted. I know I won’t be able to sleep with my blood sugar so high. When we make it back to my room, I can no longer deny that something is seriously wrong. I have to jog the final few feet, rushing into the en suite to throw up.
“Holy shit, Parker. Are you okay?” Aspen rushes into the bathroom, apparently undisturbed by seeing me getting sick. “What do you need?”
It’s time to admit defeat.
When I’m sure I can answer without anything else coming up I take a deep breath and say what I probably should have hours ago. “The hospital.”