Damien would understand.
Matthew would be sweet to him after his punishment, and soon enough, Damien would forgive him. Matthew would always be his good boy.
Almost three weeks into his bouts of frequent nausea, physically drained after several long sessions curled up in front of the toilet, Matthew found Alex, who was supervising the girls while they colored.
“I need to ask you for a favor,” Matthew said as he fell into place beside his stepfather. “Would you be willing to ask your mom to look after the girls on the day of Gage’s wedding? I’m nervous that I’m not going to be well enough.”
Alex looked at Matthew from the corner of his eye. “You’ve been sick for going on three weeks now. You don’t think you’ll be better in the next few days?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daddy, it’s okay to be sick,” Emily reassured him in the most sympathetic way she could. She waved her crayon like a wand. “You gotsta make sure you get lotsa rest and that you take your medicine. Do you wanna use my alligator spoon?”
“That’s a great idea, Emily.” Alex smiled at her. “You know, I think we left your spoon in the downstairs bathroom the last time you girls got sick. I’m going to take your dad there right now so he can start to feel better.”
“Yay!” Emily beamed and whispered something to Violet, who giggled. Violet bashfully handed Emily the purple crayon she’d been coloring with, trading Emily for the green one in her hand.
While the girls continued to color, Alex dragged Matthew into the downstairs bathroom, turned on the overhead fan, and shut the door.
“It’s not the flu, is it?” Alex pierced Matthew with his gaze, his expression serious and hawkish, like if Matthew lied, he’d be able to spot it from a hundred miles away. “There’s something else going on.”
Matthew’s face burned. He didn’t need to guess if he was going red or not—his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror was crimson-cheeked. There was nothing he had to be ashamed about, but the accusatory undertone of Alex’s voice set him on guard. “I don’t know what you mean.”
The sharp look on Alex’s face softened. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but… if this isn’t the flu, you can tell me. I’m not going to tell your dad. I’m not going to tell anyone. I want to be there for you as best I can, but in order for me to do that, you need to be honest with me.”
“You think it’s parasites, too, don’t you?” Matthew asked in a small and especially miserable voice. He dropped his chin, focusing his gaze on his toes. “The first night I got sick, Dad wanted to take me to the ER. It’s not like him to do that unless he thinks something is really wrong. I was hoping I’d get better, but—” Matthew stopped when he noticed confusion cloud Alex’s eyes. “Alex?”
“Parasites? No. I don’t think that at all.” Alex’s lips twitched, but he held Matthew’s gaze. “I thought you were pregnant.”
The word struck Matthew like a brick dropped off an overpass. “Pregnant?”
“You were so twitchy on the way to Fiji, and your heat was more detectable than usual.” Alex looked uncomfortable. “It’s been about a month since then, and now the smell of certain foods makes you sick. Obviously you can tell me to shove it if you don’t wanna talk about it, but… did you hook up with someone in the airport? The timeline adds up.”
No.
No, no no no.
Panicked, Matthew glanced at his stomach. There couldn’t be a baby. He’d been on his birth control. He’d set an alarm, and—
The alarm.
The blood drained from his face.
While he’d been in the air, his alarm hadn’t rung. The mad hop from time zone to time zone had thrown him off, and he hadn’t thought to keep track of time back home to make sure he took his pills on schedule. Not only had he missed his dose while flying, but once they’d arrived, he’d taken his pills at noon Fiji Standard Time, not Central.
It wasn’t that his blockers had become less effective—it was that he’d gone well over twenty-four hours without taking them.
A new wave of nausea hit. A cold sweat broke across his brow.
This couldn’t be happening.
Not now.
Not again.
“Hey, are you alright?” Alex reached out to brace Matthew’s arm, but Matthew didn’t want to be touched. He reeled back, hitting the wall and nearly knocking his head on a shelf.
“I can’t be,” Matthew gasped, even though he knew he could be. “It’s not…no!”
