28. Cat

Mateo is a saint.Three minutes after Noah threw up on the side of the building, he threw up again. His skin was clammy, his eyes glazed, his attention gone. I've never seen a face pale as quickly as Noah's did at the bar. I'm glad Mateo and I exchanged contacts weeks ago, because without him, I'd have to go back inside and beg one of the Belacourt babes to help me. He texts me Noah's address, the door code to get inside, and his favorite foods while he's sick. I'm not sure if this is anxiety or the flu, but there is definitely something wrong.

We make it back to his apartment when a text rolls into my phone. I push Noah into his bathroom. "Shower and get in bed."

"Okay," he says weakly.

I pull out my phone and go back to the living room.

Mateo

I assume you aren't flying home tonight. Should I reschedule the flight?

Cat

Probably a safe assumption

Noah had mentioned that this Manhattan apartment is the place that feels the most like home to him, so I'm guessing it's where he'd want to be sick if he had a choice.

Mateo

Let me know when you're ready to come home. I'll arrange everything.

Cat

Have I told you lately that I love you?

Mateo

I'm taken, but thanks

Cat

??????

So, this hot and sour soup you mentioned?

Mateo

Any Chinese restaurant will do. He loves them all.

You probably have your hands full, so I can get some delivered.

I'll get an Instacart order in, too.

Cat

You order the soup, I'll take care of everything else

Mateo

You got it.

By the time I'm finished filling an Instacart with all the things on Mateo's list and a few on mine, Noah is out of the shower. I give him plenty of time before knocking on his door.

He's laying in bed in the dark. I carry in the largest bowl I could find in the kitchen and sit on the edge of his bed, the bowl in my lap. "How are you feeling?"

"Dead."

Certainly explains his pale skin earlier. "Is this body sickness or anxiety sickness?"

"Both, I think." His eyes open lazily and sweep over me, half-glazed.

I push the bowl toward him. "I brought this in case you can't make it to the toilet. You sleep. I'll be around if you need anything."

"Cat." He presses his fingers to my wrist. "You can still take the plane home. It can come back for me."

"I'm good, Belacourt. Don't worry about me. Just sleep."

He looks like he's about to argue, so I lean forward and tuck his blankets in, then brush his damp hair from his forehead.

"Cat." After a full day of anxiety, I'm guessing his body is shutting down.

"I'm here. Don't worry. Just go to sleep."

He listens, or he gives in. Either way, his breathing grows deep and even pretty quickly. I gently slip off his bed and sneak out of the room, closing the door behind me.

I cross to the window and look out over the layers and rows of buildings stacked up on each other, their windows lighting white and yellow against the dark sky. Otto needs a warning, and I have the sneaking suspicion he's not going to be happy, so I pull my phone out and call him. When he answers, there's noise behind him, like he's at a party or a restaurant or something.

"Otto? What are you up to?"

"Just,?you know, stuff. What's up, Cat?"

That felt like avoidance. "You know that road trip I went on with Noah and his sister today? We ended up flying, so I'm in New York City right now."

He's quiet for a second. "For real?"

"Yeah, for real. But here's the deal: we left his aunt's birthday party early because Noah got sick. He's in bed now, and I think he might have the flu."

"And he's your ride home."

"Well, yes, but it's more than that. I can't abandon the guy."

"Cat," he says in a warning tone.

"What would you do differently?" I ask.

Otto's silent. He's moving, then a door shuts, leaving the noise behind him. "Nothing, I guess. You can't abandon him. I get that."

"I don't know when I'll be home to help at the BB. We have the Morgans staying there now and another family is checking in Monday. Should I find someone?—"

"I can cover for a few days, Kit Kat. Just do what you need to do, and we'll be here when you get home."

"You're going to turn over the rooms?"

"I've done it before," he says defensively. "You aren't the only person who can make a bed."

"I know. I just hate making you do that."

"You aren't." He sighs. "Has his sister been around?"

"Olive? Actually, we talked tonight. Put the past behind us."

He's quiet. I'm sure he's reliving the moment in the principal's office with Olive's parents and how little they did to stop their daughter from being a monster. "You okay?" he says softly.

My eyes are dry and my contacts need to be taken out, but I know that's not what he means. Good thing I put my backup glasses in my bag when I packed for the party. There's not enough clothing in there for a few days in NYC, so I might start to smell, but at least I'll be able to see.

The fact that I'm thinking about my dried-up contacts instead of the way Olive used to make me feel is proof that our conversation was good for me, even though I only agreed to it for Noah's benefit. "Yeah, I really am. It was good to make peace. Freeing."

"As long as she means it."

"She's grown up, Otto. I think she means it. Either way, I feel better, and that counts for something."

"It counts for everything." He gives a chuckle. "You know, if your boss is footing the bill for a trip to the city, you should take advantage of being there."

Your boss. He doesn't realize how much more Noah has grown to become for me. "I'm not going to use him."

"Not like that." He scoffs. "Geez, Cat. You know me. I just mean you should use the time to see a few things."

"Like hit up some cool hip clubs?"

He laughs. "No. Don't meet a guy there. Then he'll take you away from me."

"No one can do that."

"True. You'll never leave this island."

"You'd have to drag me away."

"Well, I won't be doing that." There's someone talking behind Otto, and he swears. "Got to go, Kit Kat. Love you, and I'll see you when I see you. Don't worry about us."

He hangs up before I can say anything back, like who is us? That's bizarre and suspicious. I pull up my Find My Friends app and check his location. Weird. It looks like he's at the Belacourt Resort, which means he must be golfing. After spending the last month with Noah and some time with Bree, my animosity toward their resort and their name in general has lessened significantly. I think Otto's has, too. But it's still weird to see him there after so many years of keeping his distance.

Why wouldn't he just tell me what he was doing? Unless he's trying to hide something?.?.?. or someone?

The sound of retching comes from Noah's door. Okay, he's definitely sick. I put my phone away and head in to help him.