Chapter Thirty Six
Veronica
At first, I thought I could handle being out and about. Enjoy life, try to remember what it was like before everything happened. Although, right now… all I feel is regret. I regret the plans from the moment I get in the car. It was supposed to be a nice dinner, at a popular restaurant that just opened up. Something simple. Something normal. But this... this is a fucking nightmare. Not only am I nauseous… I’m also cramping. I’d probably sound insufferable, so I don’t tell Lex. She’s so excited about spending time with me. All I can do is tally the things that are wrong with me.
My hands ball into fists as another wave of cramps rolls like waves through my uterus. Each coming stronger than the last, the obstetrician said it was normal, it’s called round ligament pains. I just didn’t think it would be quite so intense. Still, I try to push past it. The restaurant that feels more like a club, in my opinion, blares with heat and sound. Too fucking crunk for it to be so early.
“It’s martini time,” Alexa murmurs in my ear, while my eyes roam over the sea of people that move like waves against each other. It’s all too suffocating in the small restaurant space. Too much peopling for someone like me. Maybe I should have started out small, maybe a small dinner not a full-blown clubbing experience. Alexa tries to give me a comforting smile, noticing my distress. “Let’s go grab a drink.”
I let her drag me deeper into the crowd. The music is loud and pounding through my head like a fist, making my head and pulse throb in sync with the sound. My mouth goes dry, making my throat feel dry and itchy. No matter howmany times I try to swallow, I just can’t keep the tickle from climbing up my throat. Alexa beams at me, and I pretend to be just as happy. Mimicking her smile, knowing damn well it doesn’t reach my eyes. Still, I pretend the vibration under my skin is excitement and not panic as we walk towards the bar. When she opens her mouth to order, I intervene with two words. “One mocktail.”
For a second, she shoots me a look of confusion that quickly fades into a silent understanding. I just confirmed to my best friend that I’m pregnant with the child of the man she was hopelessly in love with not too long ago. I should feel guilty, but all I feel is relief when her arm wraps around me in a sideways hug. “Two mocktails,” she adds as she places two ringed fingers in the air. The bartender nods, acknowledging he heard us before he resumes to work on our drink order.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
She shrugs nonchalantly. “Ehh, drinking this early is no fun.”
“Alexa…”
She freezes, and her lips stretch in a small smile. “Seriously, Ronnie, it’s okay.”
I blink away the tears already building behind my eyes. I’m so goddamn emotional. Like all the time, it’s infuriating at times, especially right now. My eyes move towards the entrance, unable to look her in the eyes as we continue to wait. It feels like forever before we finally get our drinks. The drink is all pink and full of cherries with one singular orange resting on top. Bringing the cup to my nose, I can smell the sugar alongside the fruit, and instantly grimace. I should have probably ordered something specific. My stomach will hate me for it. Alexa drags me towards the back. “Come on, let's go sit.”
My body tenses, though it continues to move behind her. She’s dragging me as my vision tunnels. The sight brings a flashback of the night before we were kidnapped, forming a lump in my throat. As everyone blurs around us, leaving nothing but the image of Alexa storming away. “Hey, are you okay?” Lex’s soft tone pulls me away from the edge I didn’t notice approaching. I blink, noticing I had stopped moving, and that’s why she’s asking. I nod, instead of talking. I’mtoo afraid my words might betray me and signal my distress. We slide into the booth, and after a moment of silence, she leans over the table and asks over the music, “What’s going on with you?”
I exhale slowly, playing with an orange in the rim of the cup. Her question causes me to think, should I answer honestly? Or should I just change the topic? This isn’t the place for deep conversation. Or maybe it’s time I stop diluting what I experienced. “I’m just different now.”
“Like in a good way or in a 'I need therapy and a hug and to sleep for twelve days' kind of way?”
“Both.” I grimace. “Maybe.”
She snorts, tossing her waves behind her shoulder. “Maybe, it’s okay to not be okay. You don’t have to be ashamed of it. You’re my girl.” She smiles, her hand moving to my cheek. “I’m not good with this, Ronnie, but I want to be here for you.”
Before I can answer, the music shifts, growing too loud. The bass pounding beneath my skin, something shifts inside my chest. A tightness that sucks the air from my lungs. A memory rolls through my hands like an unwanted storm cloud.
Hands.
Darkness.
Concrete walls. The smell of mildew.
Harry.
The club spins, and as much as I try to focus on my beautiful friend talking to me, I can’t make out a word she’s saying. There’s no sound. No color. Only darkness. My brows furrow, and the ground spins beneath me. I go to stand, trying to escape this place, this—then the drinks spill onto me. The cold should startle me, doing nothing to stop the storm. I spiral even further as I look down at the wet spot. Feeling the uncomfortable sensation sink into my skin. I veer to my left, only to brush against a man. Our skin connects, the touch feeling like goo on my flesh. It’s barely a touch. It was more like a whisper. Something so small… so insignificant that opens the gate. At that moment, full panic detonates. My breathing becomes labored. Each intake of air is harder and harder to manage. My stomach lurches, and my head empties into white static.
“Ronnie?” Alexa grabs my wrist, and my body thrashes against her restraint. “Hey—hey, look at me. You’re shaking. It’s me.”
My eyes widen as her face comes into full view. “I can’t—” I can’t finish my words. Ican’teven form a thought. My throat closes, and I feel the warm tears sliding down my face. “My stomach, Lex. I feel sick—something's wrong.”
She cups my face. “Okay. We’re leaving.”
With that, she drags me out of the club, people all merging into one face. Harry’s. Once outside, the cold air slams into me, sharp and clean, but it’s not enough. Not enough to stop me from doubling over and gripping my knees just so I can catch my breath, and when I can’t, I just puke. Emptying everything onto the sidewalks. Alexa rubs my back. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Why is she sorry? I should be the one apologizing. I knew I wasn’t ready. If anyone should be saying they’re sorry, it’s fucking me. Between gagging and dry heaving, I beg for forgiveness. There’s so much I’m apologizing for, but most importantly, for breaking her heart, for taking the only thing she’s ever wanted. For being a shitty friend. There’s so much I need to say, and all I can mutter is a measly, “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t. I’m the one who is sorry. This was a dumb idea. It was insensitive of me. I didn’t think.” She spirals. I quickly reach for her. My hand wraps around her wrist as I force her to look at me. Our teary gaze locks, and she nods. “I know what you need,” she whispers. It wasn’t a question, it’s the truth of my situation. The only truth between us is heavier than anything. “I got you, Ronnie. You shouldn’t be here.”
My legs move sluggishly as she walks us over to her car and slips inside. The night air fills my lungs, and here under the stars, away from people… I think I can breathe again… There are no more words, only a silent interchange between best friends. A silent, ‘I love you,’ and very loud, ‘I forgive you.’
