Page 73 of Duke
“Those two and their fucking Epsom salt baths.” Wheeler shakes her head. “Mollie and Cash are obsessed.”
“Mollie recommended you try it. Supposed to calm your nervous system or something. And then I grabbed Gatorade and some sparkling water. Reese’s eggs too. They didn’t have the pumpkins, obviously.”
She looks at me, eyes bright. “How’d you find the eggs after Easter?”
“Discount pile at the drugstore.”
“Ah.” She pauses. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did.” My chest swells. I didonething right at least. “And then Mollie recommended these lozenges that are supposed to help with the nausea. Cherry flavor, because you liked those Twizzlers so much.”
Wheeler blinks. For a horrible second, I think she’s going to cry again.
Wait, she is crying.
Fuck.
What the hell do I do? Did I get the wrong things? Does she need a hug? Maybe she wanted real food. I should’ve asked Patsy to pack up some leftovers.
“Hey.” I keep my hands in my pockets, but I move closer. Close enough that our arms brush. “If there’s anything else I can get you, just say the word—”
“That’s not it.” She puts one hand on her nose and waves me away with the other. “You’re just…so fucking sweet to bring me all this. You came all this way—”
“You really thought I wouldn’t come after, well…” I swallow the moon that’s suddenly risen in my throat. “Surely you have a higher opinion of me than that?”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she shakes her head. “No. I mean yes, Duke. I think the world of you. I just wasn’t prepared.”
She wasn’t prepared for those positive pregnancy tests.
She wasn’t prepared for me to show up like this.
It dawns on me that she wasn’t prepared for me, period.
It’s killing me not to reach for her. “I tried calling.”
“I know. I’m really sorry I didn’t pick up. I’ve been trying to keep boundaries clear, you know? I don’t want to lead you on or give you mixed signals—”
“But you’re pregnant, Wheeler, and you’re scared out of your fuckin’ mind.” I take my hands out of my pockets. It’s the only way I can seem to get air in my lungs. “You can’t deal with this on your own. No one can. So let me be there for you.” She opens her eyes, and I search them. “Tell me what you need from me, because it really bothers me to see you so upset.”
A pair of indents appears between her eyes. “So you’re not mad?”
“Am I mad you’re pregnant?” I shake my head. “No, sweetheart. But I am bummed I wasn’t your first call when you found out.”
The indents deepen. “Really?”
“Well, yeah. Takes two to tango, but I’m one of the two. This is scary, Wheeler. I’m scared too. When you run like that…doesn’t make me feel any better, I’ll say that much.”
Her throat works on a swallow. “I get how me running left you alone too. I’m”—she lets out a breath—“really sorry. Guess part of me thought you might not want to deal with any of this.”
I flatten my palm over my chest. “Ouch.”
“I’m an idiot.” She shakes her head for the millionth time.
“You’re not an idiot. You’re not yourself, and it’s hard to make good decisions when that happens. What do you need?” I repeat.
“Honestly?” She takes a deep inhale. “I don’t know. I feel so miserable. I’m hungry, but when I eat, nothing tastes good. I’m exhausted, but when I try to sleep, I can’t. I’m bored, but I’m also totally overwhelmed.”
“Sounds awful.”
