Page 56 of Maybe in Another Life

I laugh and correct him. “I am merely helping Charlemagne find her true family,” I say as we head into the restaurant. “But the stable guy and the full-time job, those are...” I find myself intending to finish the sentence by saying “for keeps,” but I quickly realize I don’t want to do that.

It’s too early to be talking about how serious Ethan and I are or may be in the future. We have a history together, and we have potential to be something very real, but we just started dating again. I think the best thing to do is allow myself to imagine the future in my head but not put it into words just yet.

Which is to say that I think it’s very possible that Ethan is the one for me. But I’d rather be dead than say it out loud.

Luckily, Ethan appears to be on the exact same page, because he looks at me, grabs my hand, squeezes it, and says, “I hear you.”

The hostess asks if we want to be seated in the dining room or at the bar, and we go for the bar. As we sit down, Ethan orders guacamole.

“I’m very proud of you,” he says when the waitress leaves.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m proud of me, too. I mean, I didn’t like where my old habits got me, you know? And I feel really motivated to turn over a new leaf.”

I think things have been working out for me so far partly because I have people believing in me. Gabby and the Hudsons and Ethan are so encouraging that it makes me feel I can do all the things I set out to do. In other cities, I never had a true support system. I had plenty of friends and, at times, caring boyfriends. But I don’t know that I ever had someone truly believing in me even when I didn’t. Now I do. And I think maybe I need someone in my corner in order to thrive. I think I am one of those people who need people. Because my family left and I was OK with it, I always thought that I was more of a lone wolf. I guess I thought I didn’t need anyone.

“Well, I admire it,” Ethan says.

The waiter sets the guacamole down in front of us. I grab a chip and dip in. But before I can even bring it to my lips, it smells awful. I put the chip down.

“Oh, God,” I say. “Is it rancid or something?”

“Uh,” Ethan says, genuinely confused. “The guacamole?”

“Smell it,” I say. “It smells funky.”

“It does?” He dips a chip in, brings it to his nose, and eats it. “It’s fine. It tastes great.”

I smell it again and can’t stand it. I hold my stomach.

“Are you OK?” Ethan asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “I just need to get away from that.”

“You look really pale. And you’re sweating. On your forehead a bit.”

Just like last night, a wave of nausea runs through me. My throat constricts and turns sour. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold this in very long. I run at full speed to the bathroom, but I don’t make it to the toilet. I puke in the sink. Luckily, it’s a private bathroom.

Ethan comes in and closes the door behind us.

“This is the ladies’ room,” I tell him.

“I’m worried about you,” he says.

“I’m fine,” I say, although I am seriously starting to doubt that.

“You said you puked last night, too,” he says.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “And this morning.”

“Do you think maybe you have the flu? Should you see a doctor? I mean, why else would you be puking all the time?”

The minute he asks the question, I know I don’t have the flu.

I understand perfectly now why everything in my life has been going so well. The universe is just lining everything up in perfect order so that I can roll through and ruin it the way I always do.

Classic Hurricane Hannah.

I’m pregnant.

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