Page 63 of The Girlfriend Game
Thirty
Kendall
Whether it was my subconscious nerves, or perhaps the heat of the late afternoon sun, that had my stomach doing aerial acrobatics while I was chatting with Zeke and Marek, I was feeling a little dizzy and found the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face and neck.
As I finish up in the restroom, I check my reflection in the mirror and see that the makeup under my eyes is slightly smudged from my earlier tears.
The minute I closed the bathroom door behind me, I had burst into tears. I know I’m overreacting to a situation I have yet to confirm as positive or negative, but my emotions are all over the board and it feels like I’m in a no-win situation.
On one hand, I want so badly to be pregnant. To experience the glow of pregnancy. To watch my belly grow with a child of my own. I wistfully place my palm over my flat core, turning sideways to stares at my profile. If I am indeed pregnant, I’m not more than a few months. There’s no visible sign of it, yet my heart squeezes with hope.
But then on the other hand, if I am pregnant and tell Zeke, he might not want to have a baby with me. Our relationship is still new. He’s been adamant about not wanting children. He might think I’m trying to trap him into being a father. I can’t do that to him. Especially if he’s reluctant about the idea of ever being a father in the first place.
A light, but urgent, knock on the door jerks me from my thoughts.
“Just a minute,” I call out, quickly drying my hands before swinging the door open to find a beautiful young woman standing outside the door. Her wavy sunflower blonde hair cascades over her shoulders like a mermaid.
She looks up at with terrified blue eyes. “Excuse me…I’m sorry, but…”
I’m just about to say hello when she bolts past me, rushing to the toilet. I gape in surprise at her presumptuous entrance, but then a wave of compassion hits me when she drops to her knees to barely make it over the bowl in time.
Without a second thought, I grab one of the hand towels from the basket on the counter, engraved with gold-leaf initials of MT, and wet it under the sink. Turning back around, I scoop up her loose hair that’s fallen around her face and pull it out of the way.
The woman retches several times, quietly sobbing in both agony and relief. Finally, when the convulsions stop, she falls back onto her heels with a quiet groan. I offer her the wet towel to clean herself off.
She slowly lifts her head up toward me, accepting it with a small smile of gratitude. “Thank you,” she says weakly, dabbing at her mouth. I notice her cheeks are now a rosy pink, instead of the green that colored them when she flew through the door.
“You’re welcome. Can I get you some water?” I offer, gesturing toward the doorway. But she grabs hold of my wrist and plops down on her butt with her back against the wall, her head thudding against the tile décor.
“No, I’ll be okay. My husband should be here any minute. He dropped me off, but had to find parking when I knew I couldn’t make it.”
I take the towel from her hands and rinse it out in the sink, wetting the other end for her to blot against the sweat beads that formed over her forehead and neck.
“Are you ill?” I ask cautiously, hoping not to pry, but wanting to offer what assistance I can.
She lets out a choked laugh and smiles brightly. “Nope. Just pregnant.”
She drops her chin to her chest and rubs at her belly, which bulges with a barely-there baby bump underneath the material of her loose-fitting dress.
A sudden pang hits me in my own gut, my eyes misting over at her news. Good grief, I’m an emotional wreck.
“Oh, wow, that’s wonderful,” I coo. “Well, not about the havoc it’s wreaking on your body, but the baby. Congratulations.”
The woman looks at me again with tears in her own eyes, sparkling with a shimmering blue full of hope and happiness.
“Thank you. We are so excited.”
A knock on the door interrupts our conversation and both our gazes swing to the door.
“Logan, baby? Are you in here?” The male voice is desperate and anxious.
“I’m in here, Carver. Come in.”
The door swings wide and in steps one of my former patients, Carver Edwards. Our eyes lock momentarily—his startled and completely devoid of recognition—and then they move to his wife’s as he rushes in and falls to the floor in front of her.
“Baby, are you okay?” He cups her cheeks in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Lo. I shouldn’t have made you come today. It was stupid of me.”
The tenderness he offers her does something weird inside my chest. Twisting and squeezing at my heart over the love they share between them.
