Page 156 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

The question hits me in a wave.

No.

No, no, no.

Because if he stays, I will say it.

And if I say it, the world will tilt even harder.

“No,” I say quickly. “You’ve got work. I’m not dying. I’m just mildly dehydrated and tragically fragile.”

He does not look amused.

“June—”

“I’m fine,” I repeat.

My voice almost cracks.

He hesitates, then nods slowly.

“Call me if you feel worse.”

“I will.”

Another lie.

Once Wayne has gone, I allow the emotion to get the better of me. I bend double and feel all of this.

Pregnant.

My future is already uncertain, and now this? I haven’t even talked to the guys about us, and now this has added another layer of stress and confusion to all of it.

Shit.

Then I burst into tears—full, ugly, hiccupping sobs that make me question every decision I’ve made since approximately birth.

There’s only one place I can go without spontaneously combusting.

The Redwood Run Café.

The bell above the door jingles when I rush in, and I’m halfway to the counter before I realize I’m still crying.

Millie looks up and freezes.

“Oh, no,” she says immediately, rounding the counter. “Who do I need to fight?”

I laugh and sob at the same time.

“That’s not comforting,” I manage.

She grabs my shoulders. “June. What happened?”

I open my mouth.

Close it.

Open it again.