Page 112 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
When I think about having a drink, my stomach turns. It’s been doing that a lot lately. I’ve gone off half a dozen foods; everything from salad dressing to the tofu I usually love disgusts me. And I’ve been craving meat, for the first time in years.
A.J. not only broke my heart, he broke my appetite.
“I’ll just have a sparkling water, thanks.”
Grace stares at me as if I’ve just told her I’m plotting a government coup. “Sparkling water?” She looks at Kenji. “What language is this strange woman speaking? I don’t understand a word coming out of her mouth.” She turns her attention back to me. “Is this, or is this not, a bachelorette party?”
The argument isn’t worth it. I can always dump my drink down the sink when no one’s looking. “Fine, I’ll take a vodka rocks.”
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“That’s my girl!”
From somewhere deep in the bowels of the villa, Kat shouts, “You guys! Come check out the bedrooms! They’re huge!”
Before I make a move, a bout of nausea hits me so hard I’m slapping my hand over my mouth as I run to the bathroom. I hear Grace calling my name, but I can’t stop; the contents of my stomach are coming up, and they’re on the express train. I barely make it to the toilet before I’m bent over, retching into the bowl.
“Jesus, honey, what did you eat?” Grace has followed me into the bathroom. Like the good friend she is, she holds my hair away from my face as I cough and spit.
“Nothing. I haven’t had anything to eat all day.” Those strange, unemotional tears that always accompany vomiting stream down my cheeks. I slump to the floor and lean against the wall, panting, my stomach in knots. Grace hands me some tissue and I blow my nose. I drag the back of my hand across my face, wiping at the wetness on my cheeks. “Whoa. That just hit me out of nowhere.”
“You should see your face, it’s totally green.” Grace turns on the sink faucet, runs water over a hand towel, and passes it to me so I can wipe my face. She jokes, “It’s not morning sickness, is it?”
The world comes to a standstill.
Clocks stop ticking, birds stop singing, the earth stops spinning under my feet. A noise like a thousand wolves howling swells inside my head.
I count, then recount, then count again. Slowly, I raise my gaze to hers. My eyes, which I’ve just wiped dry, fill again with water. I whisper, “Grace.”
Her lips part. She stares at me in wordless horror. She shakes her head in disbelief. “No.”
“I don’t know. I think . . . I think I missed my period. I can’t . . . I wasn’t paying attention. I’ve been so . . . I’ve been so . . .”
My mind blinks offline. It can’t stand the possibility of what it’s putting together, so it just shuts down completely, leaving me staring stupidly at Grace with my mouth hanging open.
She kneels on the floor in front of me. Her face is white. She grips my wrist so firmly it hurts. “Think. When was your last period?”
I swallow. In a thin, wavering voice, I say, “May. The beginning of May.”
Her eyes go very wide. “And this is the beginning of August.”
I start to shake. “No. It can’t be. I’m . . . it’s just because I’ve been depressed, and not eating right, and working too hard, and . . . and . . .” When I run out of implausible excuses, I look at her pleadingly, begging her with my eyes for another explanation.
She blows out a slow breath and slumps to the floor beside me. “There’s only one sure way to find out. You need to take a pregnancy test.”
Please, God. Please. Don’t let this be happening to me. Not now. Not after everything I’ve been through. Not this, too.
“We can’t tell Kat. It’s her big weekend. I can’t ruin it for her.”
Grace and I look at each other, and I can tell by the look on her face she understands exactly what I’m referring to. There’s an awful story in Kat’s past about a pregnancy that didn’t end well. There’s no way I can bring up my fears without being one hundred percent certain either way.
Grace reaches over and squeezes my knee. “You’re right,” she says softly, “we’ll wait until Monday to deal with this.” Her eyes are so sad I feel like bursting into tears. “But, honey, you can’t wait any longer than that. If it’s really been since May, there are decisions you have to make . . .”
She keeps talking, but I stop listening, because I’m filled with a sudden, inexplicable relief.
I’ve gotten a reprieve from reality. For another two days, I don’t have to face the possibility that I’m pregnant with A.J.’s child.
Yippee.
