30. OLIVIA
CHAPTER 30
OLIVIA
I’m lying on the couch, one arm draped over my face, trying to will away the nausea that’s been tormenting me all morning.
The nausea hits again, and I barely make it to the bathroom before I’m doubled over the toilet. It’s the fifth time this morning, and I’m officially over it. My head rests against my arm as I kneel on the cold tile floor, the lingering taste in my mouth making me gag all over again.
When I finally manage to get back to the couch, I flop down with a groan, willing my stomach to settle. The sound of the door opening catches my attention, and I lift my head slightly, blinking through the haze of exhaustion.
Heather steps inside, dropping her bag near the door and looking around. “Olivia?”
“Heather!” I push myself up, my fatigue momentarily forgotten as I cross the room to hug her. “You’re back early!”
“Got an earlier flight, the project finished three days earlier and with whatever’s been happening with Jax lately, I felt it was only right to return him early.”
I nod. “Makes sense.”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t call you since…” she says, squeezing me tightly. “What you said, it was a lot. I was already stressed with Jax going to court.”
I shake my head. “No, I totally get it. You’re his sister. You’re allowed to be protective. And I’m glad you came home early.”
“Good thing too, because you look like death warmed over.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, pulling back. Before I can say more, the nausea swirls up again, and I’m bolting for the bathroom. The sound of my retching fills the small space, and I vaguely hear Heather behind me.
“Liv?” Her voice is closer now, followed by the soft creak of the bathroom door. She crouches down beside me, her hand rubbing small circles on my back. “You’re really not okay, are you?”
When it’s finally over, I sit back against the wall, panting. “Must be a stomach bug or something.”
Heather helps me to my feet, steadying me as we move back to the living room. She sits me down on the couch and disappears into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a steaming mug of herbal tea.
“Drink this,” she says, handing it to me. “It’ll help settle your stomach.”
I take a tentative sip, the warmth soothing against my lips even though my stomach protests. “Thanks.”
Heather sits down beside me, her eyes scanning me like she’s trying to figure out what’s really going on. “When did this start?”
“A few days ago,” I admit. “But it wasn’t this bad. I’ve been throwing up all morning, though.”
She tilts her head, her brow furrowing. “Jax mentioned you threw up earlier this week too. He thought it was a one-off.”
I blink at her, surprised. “He told you that?”
“Of course he did. We were catching up. But this doesn’t sound like a stomach bug, Liv. Have you considered… you know, if you could be pregnant?”
The suggestion makes me laugh, even though it’s a weak, breathless sound. “No way. That’s not possible.”
Heather raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Because,” I say, setting the mug down on the coffee table, “I get contraceptive shots every few months. And they’re the kind that make me barely have periods, which is great because it lets me focus on work. Plus, my doctor told me ages ago that I wouldn’t be able to have kids unless I lost a significant amount of weight. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t exactly been shedding pounds.”
Heather doesn’t look convinced. “Liv, nothing is one hundred percent. And doctors aren’t always right. I think you should see someone—just to be sure.”
I shake my head, but the way her eyes bore into me makes it hard to argue. “It’s not that, Heather. I’m sure.”
“Humor me,” she says, her tone softening. “You’ve been sick for days, and it’s not like you to brush something like this off. If it’s not pregnancy, fine. But at least let a doctor rule it out.”
I sigh, leaning back against the couch. My head feels like it’s swimming, and the idea of dragging myself out to a clinic is the last thing I want to do. But Heather’s right—I need answers. “Okay,” I say finally. “Let’s go.”
Heather smiles, standing up and grabbing her bag. “Good. I’ll drive.”
Heather’s car smells faintly of vanilla and old coffee, the air freshener swaying gently from the rearview mirror as we drive. I stare out the window, my thoughts swirling as fast as the city blurring past us. Could Heather be right? Could I actually be… pregnant? The idea feels ridiculous, impossible even. But as the miles stretch on, the tiny voice in my head grows louder, demanding to be heard.
“Have you spoken to Jax about this? Or the others?” Heather says.
I shake my head. “No.”
She sighs. “I haven’t had the chance to see him either. I came straight to you.”
Tears prick at the corner of my eyes and I squeeze her hand in mine. Heather gives me a nod.
I’ve spent the last few days consumed by everything—Jax, Charlie, the fallout from the court case. I barely had time to eat, let alone think about myself. But now, with Heather driving silently beside me, my mind circles back to the moments I brushed off: the sudden exhaustion, the strange food aversions, the nausea that refuses to quit. What if?
Heather parks the car in front of the hospital before turning to me.
“You ready?” Heather asks, glancing at me as she parks the car.
“Not really,” I admit, unbuckling my seatbelt. “But let’s do this anyway.”
The reception area of the hospital is sterile and efficient, with rows of beige chairs and a potted plant that looks too perfect to be real. Heather takes the lead, speaking to the nurse at the front desk while I hover behind her, feeling out of place.
Minutes later, we’re led to a small examination room tucked away down a long hallway. The walls are a pale green, decorated with generic watercolor paintings of flowers. A padded chair and a small sink occupy one corner, while a neatly arranged counter holds an assortment of medical tools.
I sit down on the exam table, the paper crinkling beneath me as Heather pulls up a chair next to me.
The doctor arrives, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a calm demeanor. She introduces herself as Dr. Patel, asking me a series of questions that make me squirm slightly in my seat. When she finally mentions running tests, I nod mutely, unable to muster words.
The process is clinical but quick—blood work, a urine sample, and a brief physical examination. Heather holds my hand through it all.
When it’s over, Dr. Patel tells us to wait while the results are processed.
“You okay?” Heather asks softly.
“Not really,” I say, managing a shaky smile. “But thanks for being here.”
“Always.”
The door opens, and Dr. Patel steps back in, a folder in her hands. Her expression is professional but gentle as she sits down across from us.
“Well, Olivia,” she begins, her voice calm but firm, “I have your results.”
I hold my breath, my grip on Heather’s hand tightening.
“You’re pregnant.”
The words hit like a shockwave, knocking the air out of me. For a moment, I can’t speak, can’t think. Pregnant?
“Are… are you sure?” I finally manage
Dr. Patel nods, her expression patient. “The tests are conclusive. You’re about six weeks along.”
Six weeks. I try to wrap my head around it, but the math feels impossible. Heather’s hand is still in mine, her grip grounding me even as my world tilts on its axis.
“Liv,” Heather says gently, her voice pulling me back to the room. “You okay?”
I blink, nodding slowly. “I… I think so. I just… wasn’t expecting this.”
Dr. Patel offers a small smile. “It’s a lot to process. Take your time. If you have any questions, I’m here.”
Questions. I have a million of them, but none seem to form into coherent thoughts. All I can do is nod again
The ride home is quiet at first. Heather keeps glancing at me. “You want me to text Ethan or Marcus? I think I have Ethan’s number,” she finally asks, breaking the silence.
I shake my head, staring out the window at the blur of passing buildings. “No, I’ll tell them myself. But thanks.”
She nods, but her eyes flick to me again. “And Jax?”
My stomach twists.
“I… I don’t know. I’ll have to figure out how to tell him.”
Heather hesitates. “He’s going to take it hard, what with everything going on. Do you know whose it is?”
Her question hangs in the air, making my cheeks flush. I let out a humorless laugh, rubbing my temples. “No. I’ve been with all of them, Heather. I have no idea.”
Heather doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I brace myself for judgment. But when she speaks, her voice is soft. “You’ll figure it out, Liv. You always do.”
I give her a weak smile.
“Thanks for everything.”
“Anytime. And Liv?” she calls out as I step out of the car. “Don’t overthink it. Just tell them. They love you.”
Do they? They haven’t actually told me they do, and I’m too afraid to ask.
I head inside and quickly grab my phone. My fingers hover over the screen before I text Marcus: Meet me at Ethan’s apartment. It’s important.
I hesitate, staring at Jax’s name in my contacts. My thumb hovers over it, but I can’t bring myself to type anything. Not yet.
An hour later, I’m standing outside Ethan’s door, a box of donuts in hand. The smell of sugar and frosting does little to settle my nerves. Taking a deep breath, I knock twice before letting myself in.
Ethan and Marcus are lounging on the couch, their conversation cutting off when they see me. Ethan raises an eyebrow at the box. “Donuts? What’s the occasion?”
I just shrug. “Just because.”
He reaches for a donut. “Must be a special occasion. Did you finally fire that annoying guy who tries to bypass your executive decisions?”
I frown. “Matt? No, this isn’t about or even Death Crunch.”
“Well, I’m definitely not complaining,” Marcus says. “I used to love buying these for Jill.” There’s a pang in his voice. I know his ex-wife is still making it difficult for him to meet Jill. But since he last spoke with Charlie, she’s been surprisingly supportive and even tried to talk to Amber on his behalf.
I take a deep breath, my palms clammy. “I’m pregnant.”
Ethan freezes mid-bite, powdered sugar dusting his shirt as he stares at me, wide-eyed. Marcus, on the other hand, chokes on his donut, coughing violently until Ethan thumps him on the back.
“What?” Ethan blurts, the powdered sugar puffing out with his words. “Did you just say?—?”
“I said I’m pregnant,” I repeat, my voice firmer now. “And yes, I’m serious.”
Marcus clears his throat, his voice hoarse. “You’re… sure?”
I nod, meeting their stunned gazes. “I went to the doctor this morning. It’s confirmed.”
Ethan sets his half-eaten donut down, running a hand through his hair. “Wow. Okay. Um… congratulations? I think?”
“Thanks?” I reply, my tone unsure. “I know this is a lot. Believe me, I’m still processing it myself.”
Marcus recovers enough to lean forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Do you… know whose it is?”
I swallow hard, shaking my head. “No. I don’t. I mean… I’ve been with all of you.”
“Oh my God, this is huge,” Marcus says.
“No kidding,” I mutter. “And before you ask, it wasn’t intentional. I tried to be careful, but…”
“Liv, we’re not blaming you. This is on all of us. We were reckless, and now we’ll deal with the consequences. Together,” Ethan says, stressing on the last word.
The tension in my shoulders eases slightly. They’re not panicking, they’re not moving away from me. They want this, they still want me. “I don’t know what this means for us. For everything.”
Marcus’s gaze meets mine, steady and reassuring. “It means we figure it out. Together.”
“And we take it one step at a time,” Ethan adds
“Well,” Marcus says, grabbing another donut and taking a bite. “Aren’t we supposed to be feeding the pregnant one instead of letting her feed us?”
I know I’m going to be alright.