12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Tasha
The shrill blaring chime of my phone startles me awake, its light piercing through the early morning darkness, reminding me that I’m supposed to be up and moving.
But the second I crack my eyes open, a wave of nausea crashes over me, sudden and fierce.
My stomach twists and turns, and I clamp a hand over my mouth, barely having a moment to brace myself before I’m scrambling out of bed.
The room blurs as I dash toward the connected bathroom, the coolness of the floor under my bare feet a small mercy as I push the door open and drop to my knees, barely reaching the toilet in time.
Gripping the edges of the porcelain, I squeeze my eyes shut as my stomach convulses, heaving until there’s nothing left but an awful burning in my throat and a sour taste in my mouth.
I press my forehead against the smooth, cold surface of the toilet tank, breathing through the nausea as it finally begins to subside.
The bathroom light feels harsh and bright, cutting through my foggy vision, and I can’t decide if the light is making my head pound harder or helping me stay grounded. I take in a shaky breath, my forehead now damp with a cold sheen of sweat that feels clammy against my flushed skin.
My muscles are like jelly, and all I want to do is to curl up under warm blankets and shut out the world.
I don’t have time for this, I have too much to do today.
Forcing myself to stand, I catch sight of my reflection in the bathroom mirror, a grimace forming along my lips. My hair’s tangled, my eyes shadowed and tired, while there’s a paleness to my face that makes me look like I’ve seen a ghost.
With a deep breath, I turn on the faucet and splash cold water over my face, trying to wash away the dizziness that lingers. The water feels refreshing against my feverish skin, but it’s not enough to shake the lingering queasiness.
Slowly, I make my way back to my bedroom and sink down onto the edge of the bed. My phone is still glowing on the nightstand, and I reach for it, pulling up my messages to send Brody a quick text.
My fingers hover over the screen, guilt tugging at me as I type out a message.
Brody, I’m really sick. I’m so sorry, but I can’t make it in this morning.
The words feel heavy as I stare at them, feeling like I’m letting him down. I hate calling in sick. I’d rather push through and make that money, but this sickness is kicking my butt.
Still, Brody’s been so understanding, so supportive, and here I am, missing work at a crucial time. But there’s no way I can face a full day at the office like this.
With a sigh, I hit send and slump back against the pillows, the cool sheets soothing against my skin as I close my eyes, hoping the nausea will fade.
I lie there for a while, eyes closed, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the heater kicking on. My phone chimes loudly, but before I can reach for it, there’s a light knock on my door, gentle but firm.
I manage a faint “Come in,” and when the door opens, Brody steps inside, looking calm and steady as always.
He has my laptop tucked under his one arm and a small stack of papers in the other, and his presence fills the room with a comforting warmth.
Stepping closer and setting my laptop and notes on the bedside table, he gives me a warm smile. “Here,” he says, his voice soft and soothing. “I made some notes to help with your assignments. If you’re feeling up to it later, just text me, and I’ll let you know where I’ll be.”
His thoughtfulness catches me off guard, but I manage a weak smile, my heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you. Really, you didn’t have to do this.”
My voice sounds small, but I mean every word; his kindness, his willingness to help, have become a lifeline I hadn’t expected.
“Just focus on resting,” he says, his eyes meeting mine with a soft warmth. He reaches out, giving my hand a gentle squeeze that sends a calming warmth through me before he steps back, leaving me with a soft smile before he quietly closes the door.
Alone again.
I pull my laptop onto my lap and open it, the screen glowing with the carefully organized notes he’s made. Each page is simplified, broken down in a way that’s easy to understand, and as I scan his handwriting, I can see the effort he’s put into making sure I’d grasp each concept.
My throat tightens, and despite the nausea still lingering in my stomach, I try to focus on the work he’s laid out for me, grateful for the small comfort of his thoughtfulness.
After a few minutes, I feel my phone buzz with a new text. I glance down and see a message from Jasmine, a familiar pang of homesickness tugging at my heart as I read her words.
Hey, girl! How’s the new gig? Miss you.
I close my eyes for a moment, remembering our last conversation and how she’d encouraged me to go for this new life, this chance to build something for myself. I shoot her a quick reply, my fingers trembling slightly.
Miss you too! Things are…good. Can I call?
Waiting for her response, I lean back, letting my head rest against the pillows. Her reply comes almost instantly, and Jasmine’s familiar voice fills the room before I know it, the familiar warm and lively tone, like a comforting blanket on a cold day.
“Tash, you sound awful! What’s going on? Are you sick or something?”
I laugh, weak and airy, and it sounds more like a cough. “Yeah, I’ve been down for about twenty-four hours now. I don’t know if it’s a bug, something I ate. I just can’t shake it.”
“Aww, that sounds miserable! You need some soup and a cozy bed,” she says, her voice soft with sympathy. “So, where are you staying? You got a tiny apartment over there or what?”
I hesitate before answering, glancing around the spacious, warmly decorated room that’s worlds away from any apartment I could’ve afforded.
My fingers twist the edge of the blanket, feeling the plush fabric beneath them as I grapple with how to answer. “Actually, I’m, um…well, I’m staying with my boss.”
There’s a pause on the other end, followed by Jasmine’s sudden burst of laughter, incredulous and delighted. “No way! You mean that CEO guy you told me about? Mr. Suit and Tie?”
“Yes, that guy,” I say, giggling with her, though my cheeks are burning with embarrassment.
“After he hired me, he offered me a room at his place until I found something of my own. It’s…it’s huge, Jasmine. I feel like I’m living in a magazine. The house has everything: multiple fireplaces, a library, a sunroom. I couldn’t say no.”
“I mean, who could?” Jasmine practically squeals with joy. “This is wild, Tash! Next thing you’ll tell me, is that you’re his personal chef or something. What’s it like living in a place like that?”
I nervously laugh again, feeling a mixture of excitement and anxiety fluttering in my stomach. “Oh, it’s crazier than that, trust me.”
I want to tell her more, but I can feel the exhaustion creeping in, and my head’s pounding from the relentless nausea that’s refused to leave. Still, her voice gives me the strength to keep talking, just for a little while.
Jasmine’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, as if someone else could overhear. “All right, spill! You’re living with him, this gorgeous CEO with a giant mansion. Tasha, come on, there’s gotta be more to it than that!”
I hesitate, biting my lip with an awkward pause. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and for a moment, I feel that thrill of sharing a secret, the one only a best friend can understand.
“Okay, well…there is more,” I say, lowering my voice as if the walls have ears. “We’ve, um…we’ve been seeing each other, Jas. Sleeping together.”
There’s silence on her end for a heartbeat, and then she gasps, “Oh my God, Tasha! Are you serious? What happened to the sweet, innocent Tasha who wouldn’t dare cross any lines? Girl, I’m shocked! Are you even for real?”
“It just…happened. He’s nothing like I thought he’d be. He’s thoughtful, kind, and…he takes care of me in ways I didn’t know I needed. Even today, he left me notes for my school assignments when he saw how sick I was.”
Jasmine squeals again. “So, he’s like, actually doting on you? You’re living with him, working with him, sleeping with him…you’re a total romantic cliché!”
“Stop it!” I say, laughing and rolling my eyes. “But…yeah. He’s been amazing to me. It’s strange, but he makes me feel…important. Like I actually matter.”
Jasmine’s laughter quiets, her tone shifting into something softer, more serious. “Well, I’m happy for you, Tash. But…are you sure about all of this? You sound pretty far gone, girl.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, exhaling slowly, nerves fluttering in my stomach. “I know I’m in deep. It all just happened so fast, you know? But I can’t imagine pulling away from it now.”
“Okay, real talk: how long has this been going on?”
I think back, realizing it’s only been a few weeks, though it feels like a lifetime of changes have happened since then. “Not that long, really. Just…a few weeks, maybe? But it feels like so much more.”
“All right, but let me ask you something,” she says gently. There’s a careful pause, and her voice drops to a tone I know means she’s about to hit me with something heavy. “Have you…had your period recently?”
I blink, the question hitting me like a cold splash of water to the face. “I mean, I…it should come soon, I think.” My voice wavers with fear as I try to brush it off, but a sliver of doubt creeps in, tingling at the edges of my mind. “I haven’t been keeping track that closely. My schedule’s been crazy.”
“Tasha,” she says firmly, her tone sharpened with a serious edge, “think about it. When was the last time you actually had it?”
The weight of her words sinks in as I start mentally counting back the days. I’ve been so caught up in everything, this new job, new life, Brody, that I haven’t paid attention to something as basic as my cycle.
My heartbeat quickens, and I feel a cold sweat prickling at the back of my neck as realization dawns. It’s been too long.
“Oh God, Jaz,” I whisper, pressing a hand to my mouth. “What if…?”
There’s a silent pause, then Jasmine’s voice, calm and steady. “All right, don’t panic. Just go get a test, okay? A couple, actually. Find out for sure. Don’t let this eat you alive when you’re not even certain yet. And call me the minute you know.”
After I hang up with Jasmine, I notice my hands trembling as I grab my keys and head out the door, desperate to get to the store. My mind spins with every possibility, every “what if”, and the nausea in my stomach only intensifies with each step.
When I reach my car, I slide into the seat and try to steady my breathing, but the second I turn the key in the ignition, my old car lets out a sputtering groan and dies completely.
I try again, pressing the gas pedal, whispering a desperate prayer to get it to start, but each attempt brings the same result: a lifeless, stubborn silence.
Frustration boils up, and before I know it, I’m hitting the steering wheel with the heel of my hand, letting out a choked, helpless scream.
“Of all days, why now?” I mutter, slumping back in the seat. Tears form in my eyes, but I can’t just sit here, drowning in this storm of fear and what-ifs. I need to know, and I need to know now.
Taking a shaky breath, I remember there’s one more option. Brody’s daughter-in-law, Gemma, gave me her number “just in case”.
This definitely qualifies for me, even if she didn’t really mean just in case I thought I might be pregnant with her father-in-law. I scroll through my contacts, my hands still trembling, and hit her number. It only rings twice before she picks up, her voice warm and chipper as usual.
“Hey, Tasha!” she says, her tone bright. “Everything all right?”
“Hi, Gemma…sorry to bother you, but my car won’t start,” I say, forcing my voice to stay calm. “I just…I really need a quick ride to the store. Do you think you could help?”
“Of course! I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she replies without hesitation, her kindness easing the tension just a bit.
Gemma pulls up in no time, true to her word, and ushers me into the car with a friendly smile and a reassuring pat on the hand. The drive feels both endless and too fast, every thought tumbling over itself in my mind.
I stare out the window as my heart pounds, watching the world pass by, knowing that soon enough, everything in my life could change.