“Come on.”She took my hand and led me to bed.I kicked off my shoes.Her fingers slid under the hem of my shirt and pushed it over my head.“Let’s sleep.”
I undid my belt, and my fingers hovered over the button of my pants.
“We both know you can’t sleep in jeans.”Her eyebrows waggled.“Strip, Wyatt Dawson.”
“I mean, you asked so nicely.”I stepped out of my pants.Rose took my hand and pulled me into bed.She turned on her side, fitting against me like she always did, like muscle memory neither of us had forgotten.
I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, and grounding myself in her warmth.
I didn’t need answers tonight.
I didn’t need fixing.
I just needed Rose in my arms.
Death would be a welcome vacation right now.The cool porcelain of the toilet seat pressed into my forearm as it supported my head.I focused on breathing.Slow in, slower out, while my stomach staged what felt like a full-blown rebellion.
“Get it together,” I muttered to myself as I tried to lift my head.I didn’t have time for this.
I had a wedding to attend.A full day of smiling, hugging, making small talk, and pretending the man I loved was still my boyfriend.All the while my body was secretly growing his child and reacting violently to toothpaste.
The vomiting and the constant nausea were getting out of control.Those baby books said it should ease up after a few weeks.That it was normal.As if morning sickness was a rite of passage pregnant women joked about while sharing crackers and ginger ale.
Liars.They were all liars.
I couldn’t even keep a cracker down right now if I tried.And I sure as hell didn’t want to joke about it.I wanted to die.
But no.I couldn’t.I had a wedding to attend.
I breathed through another wave of nausea.“Just get through today,” I muttered to myself.Then I could finally tell Wy, and I could stop being a lying jerk keeping this from him.I could go home, put on some sweats, and curl up on the couch with what little dignity I had left.
With a deep breath, I sat upright and pushed to my feet.I grabbed the sink and held on as I dared a glance in the mirror.Red puffy eyes greeted me, thanks to my cryfest before Wy made it back to the room.My hair looked like a llama licked the back of it, and my skin had a lovely green hue.
“Perfect.”Just how every pregnant woman is portrayed in magazines and films.
I splashed water on my face and pressed a cool washcloth to the back of my neck.
A knock sounded at the door.“You alive in there?”Wyatt’s concerned voice drifted in.
“Definealive,” I said without thinking.
There was a pause.“That doesn’t sound promising.”
I opened the door and forced a smile.“I’m fine,” I lied automatically.Something I was getting too good at lately.
My stomach rolled, and I inhaled through my nose, biting my cheek in hopes of distracting my system.
“Stomach again?”he asked.“You didn’t drink much last night.”
“I think it was all that traveling yesterday and surviving on airport food.Not a spring chicken anymore.Can’t survive on a bag of chips and a stick of cheese.I need vegetables and more protein.”
“Then we’ll make sure to get you a big breakfast.”
My stomach lurched at the idea, but I managed not to show it.“That’d be great.”At this rate, I’d have no dignity left.
“I just need to…” He motioned toward the bathroom.
“Oh right!”I moved out of his way, using my hands to present a path like Vanna White revealing letters.“All yours.”
