I tap my thumb against the steering wheel. Is she serious?
Who am I kidding? Of course she is.
“You, Halle. You happened.”
Her quiet “oh” nearly crushes me.
“I’m going to stop and pick up a few things for you on the way. I’m getting on the highway now.”
“You really don’t have to come home,” she whispers. “I’ll be okay. I can take care of myself. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Things are different now,” I remind her. “You have me.”
“I gotta go,” she says, her tone panicked. More rustling, followed by a whimper, and just before the line cuts off, she retches.
Heart hammering, I press harder on the accelerator.
At home, I have plenty of Tylenol and Advil to help with her fever, as well as broth I can use to make a simple soup, but I’m pretty sure the boys have finished off the sports drinks, so I grab several of those, as well as a box of crackers, at the pharmacy on the edge of town.
As I head toward the checkout, the sign above another aisle catches my eye, and my gut clenches.
No.
But itispossible.
I swipe a pregnancy test from the shelf and drop it in the basket. Then, for good measure, I add two more. Better safe than sorry. We haven’t been the most diligent about condoms, but on the occasions that we haven’t used them, I’ve pulled out. Even so, the technique is called pull and pray for a reason.
I check out, knowing full well that the cashier who’s known me my whole life will call my mother and give her a list of the items I purchase as soon as I’m out of here.
Oh well.
The house is quiet when I let myself inside. The boys are at school, and if Halle isn’t in bed, she’s gonna hear it from me.
As I make my way upstairs, I loosen my tie and the first few buttons of my shirt.
When I ease her bedroom door open, all I find is an empty bed, made up with throw pillowsand everything.
I close the door and continue down the hall. Finally, I find Halle passed out in my bed, mouth hanging open and dark hair a wild halo around her head. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand, as well as the Advil, and there’s a trash can beside her on the floor.
As quietly as I can, I set the plastic bag on the bench at the foot of the mattress, then toe off my shoes and check her forehead. She’s warm, but I don’t think she has a fever.
At my touch, she stirs, blinking bleary eyes open.
“Caleb? You really did come?”
I sit beside her, easing onto the mattress to keep from jostling her. “I told you I was on my way, baby. Did you think I made it up?”
“I thought I dreamed the whole thing,” she mumbles. “I’ve been up and down since three. Or maybe it was two? Four?” She prattles on. “I can’t remember.”
“How are you feeling now?” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.
“Like my mouth is gross, and if I move, I might die.”
I chuckle. “That bad, huh?”
Groaning, she squeezes her eyes shut. “You have no idea. Everything aches, and after all the puking, it feels like I’ve done the longest core workout of my life.”
“Do you think you can sit up?”
