“I hate this.”
And I hate hearing her sound so defeated. “I know.” The words feel inadequate, but I don’t know what else to say. “Let me help.”
“You can help by leaving. I look disgusting, I feel disgusting, and I don’t need an audience right now.”
“Think of me as a super fan.” I keep the washcloth on her forehead, using my free hand to stroke her bare thigh. “For the record, you could never look disgusting.”
She cracks one eye open to glare at me. “I just threw up everything I’ve eaten in the past day. There’s nothing attractive about that.”
“Agree to disagree.”
“You’re insane.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that. Is it safe to move away from the porcelain throne?”
“For now,” she whispers.
I help her to her feet, keeping one arm around her waist because she’s swaying slightly. She seems too fragile, and something protective flares in my chest. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
“You’re missing it.” She gestures weakly to the perfectly made bed in her room as I steer her toward the door.
“My bed is more comfortable.”
I don’t give her a chance to protest, just scoop her up as carefully as I can and carry her down the hall to my room. She doesn’t argue, which tells me how awful she feels. The Piper Hart I know—and like more than is smart for either of us—would rather gargle shards of glass than let me take care of her. But this is becoming a habit I don’t mind at all. I pull back the covers with one hand and lay her down, tucking the sheet and comforter around her. She immediately curls on her side, and I grab another pillow to prop behind her back.
“When’s the last time you kept food down?”
She shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I don’t know. Yesterday morning? The focaccia didn’t bother my stomach, so I thought I’d turned a corner. Not much else has agreed with me the past couple of weeks.”
Weeks?Jesus Christ.
“That’s it. We’re going to urgent care.”
“No, we’re not.” She shifts against the pillows, pulling the covers higher. “I’m fine, Felix. It’s just?—”
“Don’t tell me food poisoning, because you’ve been sick the entire time we’ve been here. That’s not normal.” I pace to the window and back. “You fainted on the trail. You barely eat. You’reexhausted all the time. Something’s wrong, and we’re getting it checked out.”
“Felix—”
“I mean it, Piper. I’ll get Ellie up and then we’re going.” I rake a hand through my hair. “I’m going to call ahead and arrange for us to enter through a back door so?—”
“I know what’s wrong.” The words hang between us, the panic in her eyes making my stomach drop.
“Okay.” I try to keep my voice calm, even though my heart is suddenly trying to punch its way out of my chest. I take a step closer. “What is it?”
She takes a breath, closes her eyes, and says, “I’m pregnant.”
My world tilts sideways like I’m on one of those carnival rides designed to make you hurl the hot dogs, soda, and cotton candy you spent hours shoving in your face. I understand the words individually. She’s pregnant. But my brain can’t seem to take them on board in a way that makes sense.
“You’re...” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “Pregnant.”
“About twelve weeks,” she confirms quietly.
Twelve weeks. The math clicks into place with all the subtlety of a freight train.
“That would mean April,” I say. “Denver?”
She nods. Her eyes are open now, but she’s staring down at the striped pattern of the comforter like it can give both of us the answers we need.
