Juliet
I sleep deeply, though I have strange dreams.
I'm playing on a jungle gym with a little girl who is struggling to climb up the railings. I look back at Marcel and then it hits me that the little girl has a miniature replica of his face, but sweet and cherubic.
“We need to make sure there's plenty of padding underneath the rubber mats so if little ones fall, they bounce.” I called down to Marcel who is taking voice notes on his phone.
“Right,” he answers. “I was thinking the same thing.” He scoops the little girl off the bars and plops her on the top where I stabilize her legs with my hands and can catch her if she rolls off. The worried expression on her little face bursts into a bright big beautiful smile.
“I swear to God,” Marcel says, “she's looking more and more like you every day.” He gives me a loving grin.
“Don’t start,” I cut him off. “You know she's your mini-me and always will be.
“Well, she and her mother have thoroughly stolen my heart.” Marcel looks positively goofy.
—and then my eyes bolt open and I sit up in bed.
At first I am disoriented and don't know whose house I've awakened in. My heart races and I start to panic. I look around the room and take a deep breath and suddenly it all floods back to me. I'm in Marcel's guest room.
My entire day was a monumental effort to not throw up. At this particular moment, however, I realize I've lost the war. Dashing into his ensuite, I barely make it to the toilet before I puke my brains up.
This is not lactose intolerance. I'm legitimately vomiting. I don't recall ever being this sick. On my second round of barfing none other than Grinch Charming walks in. I'm mid-hurl and he grabs my hair, which I am grateful for because my arm is getting tired of holding it back off of my face.
“Whatever you ate totally messed up your stomach.” He rubs my back and kisses the top of my head.
As shitty as I feel, him taking care of me is really sweet. I just want to melt into his arms and let Marcel make everything feel better.
“I'm sorry,” I say, feeling terrible for ruining his day and barfing all over his guest bathroom.
“Nothing to be sorry for, ma chérie.” He’s being so nice. “Listen, I know it's a little bit early, and this is just a precaution, but I've had a couple of run-ins and I just want to make sure that we are on a level playing field here.”
“Huh?” I feel drained and like I swallowed razor blades and they are eating up my stomach. “What field are we talking about?”
“It’s not a real field.” Marcel looks a little more serious. “I just need you to pee in a cup.”
He bends down and opens up the cabinet under the sink and pulls out a medical grade clear plastic cup with a blank sticker on the front and hands it to me.
“You don't sell body parts for a living do you? Has this Christmas romcom become a Halloween slasher?” I’m trying to be funny but I also have a dry mouth and wobbly legs.
“No, the Grinch is just being cautious,” he says as he stares at me.
“Are you going to watch me pee in a cup?” I’m now feeling very uncomfortable and Marcel’s sweet demeanor has almost completely disappeared.
He turns around and I guess he’s staying with me but not watching.
I flush, wash my hands and face, use the toothbrush and toothpaste he’s provided and then I stare at the cup.
“Why am I doing this?”
“Just a precaution,” he tells me over his shoulder and then it hits me because I’m a complete idiot. I never even thought it possible.
“You want me to take a pregnancy test! What the fuck, Marcel?” I am so pissed I can hardly think. “No.” I set the cup down on the counter. “Have your lawyer draw up something and I’ll sign it. If I’m pregnant, you are free from responsibility.” I shove past him, walk into the guest room, and start gathering my things while I fire up the Uber app on my phone.
“What the hell are you doing?” Marcel asks in a panic.
“I’m going home. No need to call a car. I’ll take an Uber to the airport and catch the next flight.”
“Stop, Juliet. Just stop.” He takes me by the shoulders and I punch him in the face.
