Thank you.
Me:
Can I stay at your place on Sunday night? Nastya is out of town, and she has the keys to my apartment.
Hade:
Are you really sick, or were you just softening me up before you asked?
Me:
Did it work?
Hade:
I would’ve said yes regardless. But only if you promise to make pancakes for breakfast.
A knock on the door startles me, and with a trembling hand, I stuff my phone under my pillow. Goodness, I’m acting like a schoolgirl who got caught passing notes.
“Can I come in?” Piper asks.
“Sure.”
She steps into my room, holding a glass of water and wearing a concerned frown. “How do you feel?”
“I’m not throwing up anymore, so that’s good.” I try to smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. “At least for now.”
With a slight shake of her head, she sits on the edge of the mattress. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Memories are a bitch, aren’t they?”
“You have no idea.” She presses her palm to my cheek. “The image of you lying in bed, so drained, is practically engraved in my mind.”
“My thyroid is fine. I haven’t had issues in years. It’s probably food poisoning.”
Teeth in her bottom lip, she studies me. “But we all ate the same thing last night. Except for the ice cream.”
“Yup, I’m the only one who had vanilla.” I shrug. “Let’s just hope I feel better before Sunday. I want to spend more time with you before I go home.”
“Get some rest.” She kisses my forehead and stands. “I’ll tell the kids not to bother you.”
With a nod, I curl under the blanket and fall into a dreamless sleep.
I woke up around lunchtime,and since then, I’ve felt perfectly fine. It’s a relief to know whatever that was won’t ruin the last couple of days I have here.
“Oh my God.” Story jumps off the sunbed, her eyes round.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She presses a hand to her abdomen. “I’m on my period, and I think…” Her cheeks flame, and her eyes dart around. “I need to go to my room.”
She makes a beeline for the house, leaving me alone by the pool. I close my eyes, resting the back of my head on the sunbed, soaking in the silence. Naturally, my mind wanders, and when Nastya’s words from our call replay in my mind, I jolt up straight.
No.
It can’t be.
I pluck my phone from the coffee table and frantically navigate to the calendar app. Then, my heart plummets. I’m two weeks late.
