“What?Why?”
Nausea rolls up from my toes, but I breathe through my nose and wait for it to pass.
She glances back toward the dining room and stiffens.
My stomach clenches as I turn.With barely a glimpse of the broadest shoulders I’ve ever seen—Mr.Sterling must be the one standing in the dining room doorway—I launch myself into the bathroom and make it to the toilet in the nick of time.
After I finish puking my guts out, I wipe my mouth with toilet paper and flush the toilet.Brook calls my name.I sigh and exit the stall on wobbly legs.
Brook stands by the sinks facing the walls.With concern in her eyes and her purse in her hands, she studies my face as she speaks.
“Penelope told me you weren’t feeling well.She also apologized and said to forget what she said.”
I nod, shuffle to the sink, wash my hands, and swish and spit, but the taste of vomit lingers in my mouth.
Brook offers me a piece of candy on her palm.I quirk a brow.I’ve never seen the brand before.
“It’s a ginger hard candy.Great for nausea.Funny enough, I had none in the beginning, but all these random little ailments keep popping up and disappearing every so often, so I’m always prepared now.I’ve even passed out a few times.The first trimester is so weird.”
“I’m not pregnant,” I say on reflex.
“Are you sure?”she asks.
The lack of judgement in her tone decimates my immediate denial.
Brennan and I have never used protection.I had all the symptoms of my period three weeks ago but only light spotting.That puts my last actual period the day after my apartment caught fire—which the investigators ruled as arson and confirmed Ms.Baker as the culprit—seven weeks ago.My first time with Brennan was a week later at the charity ball.We’ve been at it like rabbits ever since.
“Maybe?I don’t know,” I admit.
“Do you want me to get Brenn—”
“Audrey, where are you?”Brennan demands as he barges into the women’s restroom without knocking.
I scowl and hiss his name.
He continues deeper into the bathroom and grabs my shoulders without an ounce of remorse in his big body.
“I heard you were sick.What’s wrong?”
I shrug and say, “I don’t know.Maybe nothing.”
“What does that mean?”he demands.
“Throwing up might be a completely normal thing for me to do for a little while,” I say with another lame shrug.
He squints in confusion before understanding widens his eyes.
“You mean… you think you’re pregnant?”
“Maybe?A test would know better than me,” I admit.
After studying my face for a moment, he scoops me into a cradle hold and starts toward the door.
“Sorry, Mrs.Ricco, we’ll have to inconvenience you.Tell everyone we’ll see them at rehearsal tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder as he carries me into the hall.
My stomach roils.I pop the candy into my mouth.When the unexpectedly sharp flavor hits my tongue, the urge to upchuck recedes.The tension headache and prickly nape return, but my emotional turmoil holds the worst at bay.
“Brennan,” I whisper as he sets me in the passenger seat of his car.
