"I have been calling your phone." She walked into his room without knocking and strode straight to stand at the foot of his bed. "But you are not answering. It just kept going to voice mail."
His fiancée complained as she put her hands on her waist to show her growing irritation. "Is there something wrong with you? Are you sick, Dale?"
Eventually, she walked to his bedside and sat on the edge, extending her hands to his forehead to check his temperature when he did not answer immediately.
After all, she was a doctor.
Then, her earlier angry demeanor changed to concern as she examined him. But it also changed just as quickly when she learned he was not ill but just hungover.
"I am not sick, Chantal." Dale finally admitted as he stretched his arms and shifted his body into a sitting position. "I just had a few drinks last night and must have misplaced my phone."
