Page 63 of One Pucking Surprise
Lainey rolls her eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Great. My plans for a girls’ night just went right out the window.”
Wyatt lets out a hearty laugh, followed by Chloe, who nudges Lainey playfully. Janelle joins in, adding her own laugh to the mix. Lainey finally relents, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Fine. You guys can stay.”
“Wouldn’t want to ruin the fun,” I say, raising an eyebrow at her. She shoots me a look, but there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes.
We dive into the evening, dancing, laughing, and toasting to Wyatt and Chloe’s upcoming wedding. Everyone’s letting loose.
Half an hour later, I realize that Lainey and Chloe are missing. I glance around, scanning the crowd, but they’re nowhere in sight. A small pang of worry hits me, and I weave through the crowd toward the bathrooms, figuring I’ll check there first.
Just as I’m about to head down the hall, I spot them emerging from the bathroom together. Chloe has an arm wrapped around Lainey’s shoulder, and Lainey looks a little pale, her brow furrowed.
I step up to them, my concern growing. “Everything okay?”
Chloe gives me a reassuring smile, but there’s a hint of worry in her eyes. “Yeah, we think Lainey might’ve eaten something that didn’t sit right. She’s been feeling sick all week.”
Lainey waves a hand dismissively. “It’s fine, really. I’m not going to let a bug ruin Chloe’s night.”
Chloefrowns, clearly not convinced. “Lainey, it’s been a week. I think you should go to the ER. The urgent care is probably closed by now.”
Lainey tries to brush her off, but I can see how exhausted she looks. “Chloe, it’s your night. I’m not going to bail just because of some lingering bug.”
Chloe’s expression softens, but her tone is firm. “I’d feel better if you got checked out. Seriously.”
I step in, my own worry solidifying. “I can take you, Lainey. No need for Chloe to leave.”
Lainey opens her mouth to protest, but after a beat, she lets out a sigh, clearly too tired to argue. “Fine. But let’s make it quick.”
Chloe gives her a grateful hug, and I guide Lainey out of the club, helping her into the car. The drive to the ER is quiet, a mix of tension and uncertainty hanging in the air. I keep glancing over at her, trying to read her expression, but she’s too focused on staring out the window.
When we arrive, the ER is relatively quiet, and Lainey gets checked in quickly. I wait with her, resisting the urge to tap my foot as we settle into the waiting room chairs. Lainey leans back, closing her eyes for a moment, looking as exhausted as I feel.
Lainey sighs, rubbing her forehead. “This is so ridiculous. Chloe’s probably going to worry all night.”
I give her a reassuring squeeze. “She’ll be fine. I’ll text her once you’re feeling better.”
She protests, but just then, a nurse calls her name. She looks at me, as if to say I don’t have to come, but I shake my head. “I’m not staying out here alone, Lainey.”
She doesn’t argue, just gives me a soft, grateful smile as we follow the nurse down the sterile hallway to a small examination room. She hands Lainey a gown and tells her the doctor will be in shortly.
When Lainey’s ready, I sit beside her on the examination bed, holding her hand as we wait. She leans her head back against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. I keep quiet, letting her rest, my own mind racing with the possibilities.
A few minutes later, there’s a soft knock, and a doctor steps in, clipboard in hand, wearing the kind of calm, practiced expression that suggests he’s done this a thousand times. He introduces himself, giving Lainey a quick examination and asking about her symptoms. She describes the nausea, the tiredness, the lingering sickness that won’t seem to go away.
The doctor nods, jotting down notes. “We’ll do some routine tests,” he says, “just to rule things out. We’ll start with bloodwork. It shouldn’t take long.”
Lainey nods, giving him a small smile as he leaves the room. The silence stretches as we wait for the results, Lainey’s hand gripping mine a little tighter than usual. Her expression wavers between nervous and tired, and I squeeze her hand back, hoping it offers some comfort.
“Maybe it’s just stress,” I say quietly. “You’ve been doing a lot for Chloe’s wedding and juggling work, too.”
She shrugs, looking unconvinced. “Maybe. But something doesn’t feel right.”
The doctor finally walks in, clipboard in hand. His expression is unreadable, professional, and he greets us with a polite smile.
Lainey stiffens beside me, her hands gripping the edge of the exam table like it’s the only thing keeping her steady.
“Ms. Carrey,” he begins, his tone measured, “we’ve reviewed your test results, and they explain the symptoms you’ve been experiencing.”
Lainey leans forward, her voice tight with worry. “Am I okay? Is it… is it just a stomach bug?”
