Page 98 of Faking with Three

“Got an earlier flight, the project finished three days earlier and with whatever’s been happening with Jax lately, I felt it was only right to return him early.”

I nod. “Makes sense.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t call you since…” she says, squeezing me tightly. “What you said, it was a lot. I was already stressed with Jax going to court.”

I shake my head. “No, I totally get it. You’re his sister. You’re allowed to be protective. And I’m glad you came home early.”

“Good thing too, because you look like death warmed over.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, pulling back. Before I can say more, the nausea swirls up again, and I’m bolting for the bathroom. The sound of my retching fills the small space, and I vaguely hear Heather behind me.

“Liv?” Her voice is closer now, followed by the soft creak of the bathroom door. She crouches down beside me, her hand rubbing small circles on my back. “You’re really not okay, are you?”

When it’s finally over, I sit back against the wall, panting. “Must be a stomach bug or something.”

Heather helps me to my feet, steadying me as we move back to the living room. She sits me down on the couch and disappears into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a steaming mug of herbal tea.

“Drink this,” she says, handing it to me. “It’ll help settle your stomach.”

I take a tentative sip, the warmth soothing against my lips even though my stomach protests. “Thanks.”

Heather sits down beside me, her eyes scanning me like she’s trying to figure out what’s really going on. “When did this start?”

“A few days ago,” I admit. “But it wasn’t this bad. I’ve been throwing up all morning, though.”

She tilts her head, her brow furrowing. “Jax mentioned you threw up earlier this week too. He thought it was a one-off.”

I blink at her, surprised. “He told you that?”

“Of course he did. We were catching up. But this doesn’t sound like a stomach bug, Liv. Have you considered… you know, if you could be pregnant?”

The suggestion makes me laugh, even though it’s a weak, breathless sound. “No way. That’s not possible.”

Heather raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because,” I say, setting the mug down on the coffee table, “I get contraceptive shots every few months. And they’re the kind that make me barely have periods, which is great because it lets me focus on work. Plus, my doctor told me ages ago that I wouldn’t be able to have kids unless I lost a significant amount of weight. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t exactly been shedding pounds.”

Heather doesn’t look convinced. “Liv, nothing is one hundred percent. And doctors aren’t always right. I think you should see someone—just to be sure.”

I shake my head, but the way her eyes bore into me makes it hard to argue. “It’s not that, Heather. I’m sure.”

“Humor me,” she says, her tone softening. “You’ve been sick for days, and it’s not like you to brush something like this off. If it’s not pregnancy, fine. But at least let a doctor rule it out.”

I sigh, leaning back against the couch. My head feels like it’s swimming, and the idea of dragging myself out to a clinic is the last thing I want to do. But Heather’s right—I need answers. “Okay,” I say finally. “Let’s go.”

Heather smiles, standing up and grabbing her bag. “Good. I’ll drive.”

Heather’s car smells faintly of vanilla and old coffee, the air freshener swaying gently from the rearview mirror as we drive. I stare out the window, my thoughts swirling as fast as the city blurring past us. Could Heather be right? Could I actually be… pregnant? The idea feels ridiculous, impossible even. Butas the miles stretch on, the tiny voice in my head grows louder, demanding to be heard.

“Have you spoken to Jax about this? Or the others?” Heather says.

I shake my head. “No.”

She sighs. “I haven’t had the chance to see him either. I came straight to you.”

Tears prick at the corner of my eyes and I squeeze her hand in mine. Heather gives me a nod.

I’ve spent the last few days consumed by everything—Jax, Charlie, the fallout from the court case. I barely had time to eat, let alone think about myself. But now, with Heather driving silently beside me, my mind circles back to the moments I brushed off: the sudden exhaustion, the strange food aversions, the nausea that refuses to quit. What if?

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