Forbidden Grumpy Boss (Damaged Daddies #2)

33. Leah

Chapter thirty-three

Leah

I stare at the ceiling from where I’m lying flat on my back in bed, feeling like I’m somewhere between a human and a shriveled slug. Heartbreak isn’t supposed to feel like this, is it? A raw, gnawing emptiness in the pit of my stomach that not even chocolate or Penny’s terrible pep talks can fill.

“Leah, babe, you can’t keep lying in bed like this. I’m starting to forget what the bottom half of your face looks like,” Penny says, pushing my bedroom door open with her hip, hands full of a steaming mug that smells vaguely like ginger.

The smell’s instantly nauseating. Nowadays, everything’s nauseating. I can’t explain it.

Her hair’s pulled back in a messy bun, golden curls spilling every which way, and she’s in her usual oversized band tee and sweatpants. She’s trying for cozy and encouraging, I can tell, but her brows are drawn together in worry.

I hate that I’m putting her in this position, but I’m too depressed to do anything about it.

I muster up the strength to raise an eyebrow. “It’s a look,” I murmur. “I’m setting a new trend. ‘Depressed yet fashionable.’”

“Ugh.” She scoffs, setting the mug on my nightstand and folding her arms. “It’s been days, Leah. Days. You will merge with the bed soon, like osmosis or something. Isn’t there, like, a textbook rule about heartbreak where you’re supposed to at least attempt to shower after day two?”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“I could’ve sworn that’s a thing.”

The thought of moving, let alone standing under a stream of water, makes me cringe. “Maybe tomorrow,” I say, pulling the covers tighter around me, even though I’m sweltering.

Can I just be, like, just exist?

“Come on,” she says, jostling my shoulder. “It’s just a shower, not an Olympic event.”

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus. A double-decker one. One of those tourist ones in London that stop every two seconds so everyone can take pictures.” I make a sound that sounds like a dying toad. “Then a plane just happened to crash on my mangled, barely-breathing body in the middle of the highway.”

“Jesus.”

“ Jesus is right, Penny.”

Penny snorts, then sighs, leaning against the bedpost and fixing me with that serious look of hers that makes me feel like she’s about to diagnose me with something terrible. “Leah, you knew this might happen,” she says gently. “You knew Silas was, I don’t know, complicated. We talked about it from the beginning, remember?”

“I was so stupid.”

“Leah—"

“Complicated is an understatement,” I mumble, shifting under the covers, though her words are like tiny pinpricks of truth. Of course, I knew. I saw the signs flashing in neon. And yet, I walked right into it. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

Penny sighs again, sits at the edge of the bed, and picks at the loose thread of my comforter. “Okay, enough with the self-hate. You’re not an idiot. Just a . . . let’s call it a highly optimistic person.”

“Optimistic? Right. That’s just another word for a dummy,” I say bitterly. “The girl who thought she could waltz into the life of Silas Waverly and come out unscathed. Dad was right. A man who isn’t married at that age is a giant red flag.”

She nudges me with her shoulder. “Or maybe just a girl who wanted a little happiness. No crime in that, yeah?”

I groan, rolling onto my side. “Happiness? Or a front-row seat to my own downfall?”

“Are you going to spin everything I say into your own little prophecy of doom?”

I rub my eyes. “Maybe?”

“Whatever it is, you don’t deserve this,” Penny insists, pulling me into a half-hug.

She smells like lavender and peppermint and the faintest trace of the fabric softener we both use on our laundry. “But lying here, looking like you’re auditioning for a zombie flick, isn’t going to change anything. So, come on. Let’s get you up. We can go out and get some fresh air. Hit the gym, go for a walk, whatever you want.”

“The gym?”

“Best thing to do after a heartbreak. I read that on BuzzFeed.”

“Ugh. Who still uses BuzzFeed?”

“So, when next he sees you in your banging body, he’d be kicking himself with regret.” Penny beams. “And then, you’d be with the absolute love of your life, and Silas would rue the day he fumbled you.”

“But he’s the love of my life.” I hate how pathetic I sound. “Or, at least, I hoped he was.”

“Oh, baby. I thought Steve in fourth grade was the love of my life, too. And then, I thought it was Greg, then Jude, then Ringo, then—”

“What do you mean,” I cock my head, “you dated a guy named Ringo?”

Penny bursts into laughter. “What can I say? I was going through a Mexican papi phase.” She shrugs and does a little shoulder dance. “My point is who we think we’re going to spend the rest of our lives with isn’t necessarily who we end up spending it with. Some are lucky to have their last love be their only love. But the rest of us? We gotta go through a bit of trial and error, love.”

“I hate trial and error.”

But I know she’s right. Silas and I just aren’t meant to be, and it hurts to admit that to myself. It hurts to think about the fact that Caleb is just gone from my life, and that’s it.

Finito.

Penny shakes my shoulder. “Come on, a bath and then a walk, and you’ll feel a little more like yourself. I promise, babe.”

I know she’s right.

I should be doing anything but lying here, wallowing in my own mess of emotions. But every time I try to think about getting up, there’s this overwhelming wave of nausea that settles in my stomach. And if I’m honest, I can’t tell if it’s Silas or something worse.

I force myself to sit up to make her happy. The room spins for a second, and my stomach churns. I squeeze my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. Penny’s hand finds my shoulder, steadying me.

“You okay?” she asks, and even though my eyes are closed, I know her eyebrows are knitted with concern.

“Yeah. Just a little dizzy,” I mutter, brushing it off. “And nauseated.”

I’ve felt like this for days now—bloated, queasy, and tired. It’s as if my body’s taken on my emotional weight and decided to add a few extra pounds for fun. Maybe Penny has the right idea about joining a gym.

“You sure?” Penny presses, watching me closely.

“I’m fine. Probably just . . . the breakup.” I shrug as if my stomach isn’t flipping like a roller coaster.

“Breakups don’t usually make people feel like they’re gonna barf,” she says skeptically. “You look pale, too. When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t half-melted ice cream?”

I think about it, and the answer isn’t great. I can’t remember the last proper meal. “Ice cream counts as a food group, doesn’t it?”

Penny sighs and helps me to my feet. The moment I stand, my stomach revolts. A nauseating wave hits me, and before I can even register what’s happening, I’m rushing to the bathroom, Penny hot on my heels.

“Leah!” she calls, her voice echoing behind me.

I barely make it to the toilet before I’m retching, my stomach emptying itself in the most humiliating fashion. Penny’s right there, holding my hair back, murmuring comforting nonsense while I grip the edge of the toilet, waiting for the nausea to pass.

I don’t get sick. Even as a kid, my mom always said I was the best kid to have for a new mother because I took whatever came my way and kept on playing. I don’t get sick—ever .

So, what the hell is going on?

When I finally pull back, wiping my mouth, I lean my head against the cool wall tiles. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

Penny’s hand is on my shoulder, rubbing soothing circles. I meet her eyes, and I can almost see the gears turning in her head. There’s something on her mind.

“What?”

“What do you mean?”

“Out with it, Pen, or I’ll squeeze it out of you.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re in no position to be making threats, babe.”

“Talk!”

“Fine.” She purses her lips, and I feel my pulse hastens.

Penny isn’t one for tact, so if she’s thinking before she speaks . . .

“Have you considered that you might be pregnant?”

“What?” I freeze, staring up at her in shock. “Pregnant? Me?”

“Yes, you,” she says, a small awkward smile breaking through her concerned expression. “I mean, when was the last time you—you know.”

“Had sex?”

“Had your period.”

I frown, trying to recall the last time my period made an appearance. And it hits me. It’s late. Really late. But no, that’s ridiculous. It couldn’t be.

“I’m not pregnant,” I say flatly, shaking my head. “It’s just stress, or a stomach bug or—”

“Or you’re pregnant.”

“I’m not pregnant, Pen.”

“Leah, do you really want to bet on that? ‘Cause I happen to have a pregnancy test right here.” She reaches into the drawer under the sink and produces one with a flourish.

I blink at her, stunned. “Why do you even have that in here?”

She shrugs, grinning cheekily. “A girl’s got to be prepared. Plus, I’ve been, well, let’s say I’ve been busy.”

“You sure have.”

“So, are you going to take it?” She stretches it to me.

“I am not pregnant.”

“Then you should have no problem taking the test.”

I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Fine. But this is a waste of time.”

“Come on,” she urges, pushing the test toward me. “Worst case, you’re right, and you can get back to feeling miserable without a tiny human complicating things.”

Her logic is absurdly sound, even though I don’t want to admit it. With a resigned sigh, I take the strip off her hands, feeling ridiculous as I stare at it.

“What, are you going to watch me take it?”

“I’ve seen you pee, babes.”

“Out.” I push her half-jokingly, lock myself in the bathroom, and follow the instructions. My heart pounds in my chest as I pee. The seconds feel like hours as I wait, my mind a chaotic mess of disbelief, anxiety, and a sliver of . . . fear?

The timer on my phone goes off, and I glance down at the little strip. My heart stops. The world around me narrows down to the tiny, unmistakable symbol.

Two pink lines.

No, no, no, no, no.

I blink and shake the test, as if that will somehow change the result. But there it is, staring back at me, stubbornly real.

I stagger back, sinking onto the closed toilet lid, test clutched in my hand, mind blank with shock. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Oh my God! This can’t be happening.

There’s a knock at the door, and Penny’s voice filters through, gentle, hesitant. “Leah? You okay in there? I heard the timer. What’s the test say?”

I take a shaky breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “Penny, about that banging body?”

“Yeah?”

“We may have to put a pin in that.”