Nobody Loved Me Like You Do

💋CHAPTER 29💋

Before I could open my mouth to tell Callan, our food arrives. The waiter obstructs my view as he serves us and I say a low thank you before he leaves. I try to look around again but the lady seemed to have already disappeared into the backroom. Nevermind, she probably wasn't Valencia.

Callan's voice disrupts me from my search, "If you keep on looking around your food might just get cold".

"Oh yea right". Before I begin to dig into my food, the waiter that had just served us comes back.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I served you the wrong dish. My apologies," he apologizes as he picks up the plate.

"No no. It's fine," I assure when another waiter appears and serves me the right dish.

Before im done with my food, I begin to feel nausea.

"Excuse me. I need to touch the lady's room," I excuse myself as I get up.

I head to the restroom quick on my feet and immediately crush down to my knees, disgorging the contents of my stomach into the toilet. After being done, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and get up. I wash my hands in the sink and make my way back to the table.

I continue eating my food when after 2 minutes, my bowels begin to move. I excuse myself and rush to the restroom. I promptly lift up my dress and slide down my lace. I settle onto the toilet seat as stool gushes out of my asshole.

When I get back, Callan ask's if I'm okay and I lie, too embarrassed to tell him what was going on. I try to act like nothing's wrong but this time my stomach aches worser than before. I can't act anymore, I need to leave.

Callan Anders' POV

"This place is lovely," Kashmere compliments.

I ignore her comment and just stare at her. She looks beautiful. I like her better in red lipstick and her hair straightened. Why doesn't she always groom herself like this? She would look more attractive this way.

After she excused herself to go to the restroom, I pull out my phone and read a few texts that Andreas sent me. I look up and catch a lady staring at me. She is having dinner with another man but yet puts all her focus on me.

Kashmere makes her return and settles down. She digs into her food when after a few minutes decides to excuse herself again.

What's going on?

When she gets back I ask, "are you okay?"

"Yes I'm fine," she responds.

After a while she says, "I need to go. I'm not feeling too good".

I wipe my mouth with a napkin and get up. We make our way towards my car and get in.

"We should see the doctor," I suggest.

"No. I just want to go back home," she denies.

"I insist you get medical help Kashmere," I look at her quickly before putting my focus back on the road. "This could be serious".

She leans her head against the window and closes her eyes to rest, a silent approval. I turn into the hospital parking lot and help Kashmere out of the car. I wasn't allowed into the room so I settle down onto the benches in the hall with a cup of coffee in hand. After what seemed like 2 hours, the doctor steps out.

I get up. "Doc.."

"She was food poisoned," he informs.

"What!?" I whisper shout.

"We found traces of Hasmogassin in her intaken food. If she didn't seek medical attention sooner, it could have led to death".

Fuck.

"How is she doing?" I ask.

"We've performed procedures on her to neutralize the poison but at the moment, she is just fine. I've given her tablets to take when she gets back home," he enlightens.

"Alright," I say.

"You may now see her," he permits and we both walk in together.

Kashmere is sitted on the hospital bed, too embarrassed to look at me in the eye.

I settle besides her.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Yes," she accepts.

"To prevent similar problems in the future, do you perhaps have any clue on where you might have taken the food?" The doctor ask's.

The following day, I phone the manager of the restaurant where we had our dinner last night.

"Mr Anders, it's such an honor that you have called. How can I be of service? Last night, I noticed that you left our restaurant without paying the bill but we didn't make much of a deal out of it. You can transfer the funds to our account or send us a cheque," he suggests.

"How can I pay the bill when your food nearly killed a friend of mine," I scold.

"What are you talking about Mr Anders?" The manager ask's.

"Maybe if you used your senses the same way you did when you noticed I left without paying the bill, maybe you would have been able to tell when your chefs added poison to her food!" I yell.

"Please do not degrade our restaurant in that certain manner. We are a very respectable establishment-" he says but I cut him off.

"Respectable my fucking foot! Is poisoning your customers what you call respectable!?" I exclaim.

"Are you sure it was our food? Our chefs are highly trained and wouldn't stoop so low. Maybe she in-took something else.."

"Of course I'm damn sure! The fuck why would I be calling you if I wasn't!? She didn't take anything before we came there," I yell

"Calm down Mr Anders. You don't have to cuss," he says.

"My cussing should be the last thing you should be worried about because I'll be suing your ass and have your establishment closed down," I threaten.

"Now now Mr Anders, I don't think that will be necessary. We don't have to go there. I will look into this case," he assuages.