Page 31 of Autumn on My Mind

I repeat: WE HAVE ROAMING HANDS.

“Those are our parents,” Dominic says grimly. “I do not have it in me to be okay with this⁠—”

But he breaks off as my stomach finally rebels completely, and I double over, heaving into the bushes and hacking almost as hard as I did when I spit water all over the man now eating my mother’s face⁠—

I heave again, and on my back I feel a few thumps. “Get it all out,” Dom says, his voice absentminded but tinged with disgust. Then the thumping hand disappears, and the leaves beneath us crunch as he turns away from the window. I stare watery-eyed at his worn work boots, pointed toward me now, and when he speaks again, his words are firm.

“This is revolting, Berkeley,” he says, his voice filtering down from over my head. I’m not sure if he’s talking about me or our parents. “I’m going to need lobotomy to forget about this. Help me or don’t, but I’m breaking them up.”

The image of our parents kissing flashes into my mind. “I’ll help you,” I gasp, sucking air into my greedy lungs as my stomach finally begins to settle. “I’ll help.”

“Will you really?” he says, and even though I’m not looking at him, I can picture the challenge in his raised brows. “Or are you going to back out?”

“I said I’ll help.” My snippy tone probably doesn’t do me any favors, but it’s all I’ve got right now. I can still taste bile on my tongue. “I’ll help. Okay? We just—” I break off, and when Dominic doesn’t speak, I go on. “I want to be subtle about this, okay?”

Into my head pops the part I don’t say out loud: So that Alvina never finds out.

“If you’re going for subtle, you should stop throwing up,” Dom says unhelpfully. Then, a second later, he adds, “Are you sick?”

Hmm.

“I guess I have been feeling a bit nauseated,” I admit as I look at things in a new light. “And…I’ve had a headache. And I’ve been sort of shaky today?”

He gives a disbelieving laugh. “And you didn’t think something might be wrong?”

“I thought I was just nervous to see you again,” I say, irritated. “What—like you felt totally fine after six years? And our parents are dating.”

He goes quiet at this, silent for several long seconds until he takes a deep breath like he’s preparing himself. Then he asks one more tense question: “You’re not—pregnant, are you?”

This, finally, is too much. “Of course I’m not pregnant,” I snap. “Be realistic.”

“Just checking,” he mutters, but there’s unmistakable relief in his voice.

Something occurs to me, and swiveling my head to look at Dom, I ask, “Why are you here?”

“Rosie was over here earlier,” Dominic says, jerking his chin at the window. “And she thought she heard him making plans, so…” He grimaces, his shoulders twitching into a shrug. “I came over to see what was going on.” He eyes me, his frown growing. “We should go.”

He’s right. I can’t vomit in any more bushes, and I certainly can’t watch any more of Alvina’s nighttime activities.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Let’s go.”

And I try to stand up—I really do. I give it a brave, valiant effort.

But all that happens is my legs give out, and I topple instead right into Dominic’s arms.

I hit him with an oomph—his or mine, I’m not sure—as his arms close automatically around me.

I know it’s automatic because if he had a chance to think it through, he’d probably let me fall.

“Careful,” he says, his voice startled and breathless as he takes most of my weight. “Berkeley—get off me.”

“I’m not on you,” I say.

It’s a lie. I’m clinging desperately to his jacket, because my head is somewhere around his sternum now as I slide slowly down his body—in the least sexy way possible, I might add. I squeeze tighter as I try to find my feet, my hands clasping.

Dominic tenses at my searching grip. “I’m letting go of you.”

No! my body says.