Chapter Thirty-Two Emma
Day by day, I get closer to settling on what decision I should make for my future.
Truthfully, the future still looks pretty blurry to me, but I know that I don’t want to raise the baby alone away from New York City. It’s not a feasible or an attractive option, so I’ll keep my work remote or in the city.
But that leaves me with the most difficult part.
I have to tell people that I’m pregnant, starting with the guys. Who knows how they’ll take the news, especially since I don’t know who the father is? They might be excited. They might be spooked or upset.
And that won’t even be the end of that craziness because I’ll have to figure out how to tell my family how this baby came to be.
All I can see is a domino effect of chaos, and I don’t know who will be happy or if anyone will be at all. What if I end up alone regardless?
“Em?”
I snap out of my thoughts and look over the top of my laptop. Max sits across from me at a small table in a local coffee shop. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“I was asking how your work is coming along,” Max replies as he lowers the screen of his laptop a little to get a better look at me.
I take a breath and nod, forcing myself to tune back into my work. That’s the reason I’m here. I needed a little bit of normalcy, so when Max offered a work session here at Cozy Grind, I agreed.
It’s just work with company, and I feel fine being around Max because we’re out in public focusing on work. We’re not talking about our feelings or our desires or our worries. Just work.
“Fine. Just deciding on what color scheme works best,” I tell him.
Max nods with a small smile. “I’m glad you came out with me today.”
His words make a fluttering sensation fill my stomach. They’ve all been so kind and caring to me, which is sweet, but they’re making it harder for me to figure out the best way to tell them the truth. There have been moments when I was prepared to blurt it out, but my fear stopped me.
I don’t know what to do, and the pregnancy symptoms haven’t been kind to me in the slightest on top of it all.
“I almost cancelled,” I admit as I subtly rub my upper stomach under the table, trying to soothe the vortex of nausea wanting to work its way upward. “I wasn’t feeling too good this morning.”
Max frowns. “Is that why you’re drinking tea instead of coffee? I’ve never seen you order tea before.”
My heartbeat stutters for a moment. Did he really notice that? What else might he notice before I have the chance to tell them all the truth?
“Oh, uh, yes. It’s easier on my stomach,” I reply with a casual shrug. “Definitely doesn’t beat the taste of coffee, though.”
“And the four pumps of caramel syrup that you like in it,” Max says with a wry look on his face.
I hold up a finger. “That’s only for a big coffee, thank you.”
Max laughs as he leans back in his chair, his shirt stretching across his chest.
My eyes linger where I can see the lines of his muscles until my stomach suddenly churns, the sour sensation within it growing more prominent. This morning sickness is going to be the death of me.
I grimace as I lower my head, pressing my hand against my stomach.
Max’s laughter immediately dies out. “Are you okay?”
I breathe in and out slowly, fighting the nausea as bile tries to rise up my throat. This is driving me insane! It’s bad enough that I have to deal with pregnancy symptoms, but on top of that, I can’t tell anyone that they’re pregnancy symptoms.
“I don’t feel well,” I tell him as I press my hand against my forehead, shielding my eyes.
Max shuts his laptop and stands up. “Maybe you need to lay down for a little while. My apartment is around the corner. Let me take you there.”
I don’t think I’ll make it home. Maybe he’s right. Maybe if I just lay down, I can get through this.
With a nod, I shut off my laptop and let Max pack it into my laptop bag for me. After he tosses our trash and gathers our bags, he holds his arm out to me, helping me out of my chair and out of the coffee shop.
“I can get you some ginger ale or something,” Max offers as he takes me down the sidewalk.
Even the smell of people’s cologne and perfume as they walk by pushes me closer to the point of losing my breakfast. I haven’t even been pregnant for long, and I’m ready to deliver this baby so that I can escape the symptoms.
“I just want to lay down,” I tell him.
Max doesn’t make any other offers. He gets me to his fancy apartment building and takes me up to the top floor where his large unit is located. When he opens the door and leads me toward the couch, I think I’m safe until another wave of nausea hits me.
“Bathroom?” I manage to say before clamping my hand over my mouth.
“First door on the left,” Max says as he points to a nearby hallway.
I rush into the bathroom and lock the door behind me before throwing myself over the toilet seat, barely giving myself a second to spare before I lose my breakfast. My entire body aches as my stomach clenches, nearly all of my strength leaving me by the time that I’m finished.
I manage to drag myself over to the sink and wash my mouth out before slumping back down to the ground, feeling shaky and cold. I still feel sick. This nightmare still doesn’t feel over.
“Emma, are you okay?” Max asks as he gently knocks on the door.
Maybe it’s the stress or the hormones or the guilt that I feel about everything, but tears immediately fill my eyes and start spilling down my cheeks. I place my hand over my mouth to try to stifle my sobs, but they burst from me regardless.
“Are you crying?” Max asks. “Emma, open the door.”
I can’t. I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.
Instead of answering, I bury my face in my hands, wishing that I could hide or disappear. There’s no escaping my reality, though. I’m harboring the biggest secret of my life.