Rylee shouldn’t have been sleeping at that hour. It was 10 a.m., and on any other Tuesday, she would have been down in the basement in her home office, speaking with clients after dropping her children off at school.
But the kids had spent the night at Lennox’s parents’s home at their insistence, so they’d taken the children to school. And that was a good thing, considering how upset Rylee’s stomach felt that morning.
She kicked the covers off herself and stepped off the bed, heading straight to the bathroom.
On her way there, she tried to recall what she ate the night before.
Tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. She always kept it simple when it was just her and when the kids were away.
But that didn’t explain it. She had a light meal that she’s prepared plenty of times in the past. It just didn’t make sense how upset her stomach felt.
“Let me just brush my teeth,” she reasoned with herself, as if trying to self-soothe. It was her attempt at pushing away the sensation that was creeping up her throat.
She was on the final few seconds of her brushing routine when she noted the day.
Specifically, the date.
Rylee’s period was like clockwork after having her son. Though it was once irregular, now it arrived the same time every month.
But it had been a few weeks since her cycle should’ve started.
The realization almost made her swallow the toothpaste in her mouth.
What started as a gradual thought turned into a slow, dawning dread that crept into her mental space and held her by the throat.
“No,” she whispered to herself in a tone that suggested she was being ridiculous. Rylee shook her head for effect. “No. Impossible.”
Except, it wasn’t.
She grabbed her phone that lay nearby to check her digital calendar. Because to her, she had to have the dates mixed up.
That’s when she noticed the reminder she’d set to meet up with Xander in the next hour.
They planned to visit an Italian restaurant out in Long Island for lunch, which didn’t help with her panic in that instance.
Things had been good between them. So good.
After that night a few weeks ago, when Rylee thought Xander and his fire company had been called to that fire in Park Slope, she’d been intentionally open. Less guarded. More accepting ofXander making a place for himself in her and her children’s lives.
But nowthis?
She swallowed hard when the urge to gag came over her. But swallowing just made her gag harder. Before she could process what was happening, she felt last night’s dinner rush up her throat, forcing her to turn on her heels and drop into a squat in front of the toilet bowl.
Sloshing sounds echoed around the en suite as Rylee heaved and coughed into the toilet.
Once her stomach felt empty again, she dropped back on her haunches and stared at the contents floating in the toilet water before flushing.
“No fucking way,” she exclaimed low, closing her eyes and pressing her hands to her face.
It wasn’t long before she was back on her feet, rinsing her mouth and brushing her teeth again, then heading for her closet to throw on whatever her eyes fell on so she could leave the house.
There was no way she could ignore how she was feeling. And what she’d just done.
She’d thrown up.
Rylee doesn’t throw up.
The last time she threw up was when she discovered she was pregnant with LJ.
