Chapter 25 Not Butterflies
not butterflies
RILEY
My stomach rolls slightly as I push the salad around my plate with my fork. My appetite over the last few days has been nonexistent, probably because of the heat and the humidity. It’s almost too hot to be out on the terrace tonight, but with the sun setting, we decided to go for it.
According to Nastya, the weather in New York is worse, so I should be grateful.
“…your orientation for the company went well?” Piper says to my right.
I look up at Story. She’s playing with her food, wearing an expression that probably matches mine, though in her case, it’s likely because of nerves.
Her life is about to change completely. At only sixteen, she’s already accomplished so much, but now that she’s been accepted into this dance company, she’ll have to postpone her college plans.
“It was great,” she mutters. “But I don’t know what I think about the homeschooling part.”
Piper’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “We’ve talked about this before, and you never seemed to mind. What’s changed?”
Story’s only response is a shrug. My sister peers at me, silently begging for help.
So, I put my fork down and steeple my fingers.
“The training will be intense,” I tell Story. “The days will be long, and you’ll meet so many professional dancers. It’s a lot, but think of how fulfilling it will be when you get to perform. Homeschooling is the only way to make it possible, though. Or is there something else bothering you?”
She puts her fork down and collects her dark brown hair into a neat bun. “It’ll mean missing out on my senior year with my friends. And I’ve always wanted to go to college in New York. You know how much I want to follow in your footsteps, and now, it won’t be the same.”
“Story.” I reach across the table and cover her hand with mine.
“You don’t need to follow in my footsteps.
Your story is different from mine. It always has been.
You are exceptionally talented, way more talented than I’ve ever been.
” I squeeze her hand. “You deserve this opportunity. You’ve worked so hard.
Homeschool won’t be that bad, trust me. You’ll be with other kids your age at the company.
You’ll still have plenty of opportunities for fun. And I’m only one call away.”
Her lips tip up in a relieved smile. “Thank you so much, Ry. You will always be my inspiration.” She narrows her eyes at me. “But if you ever say you are less talented than me again, I’ll throw hands.”
There’s a pause at the table before we all burst out laughing.
“When is your flight?” Nastya asks, her voice muffled.
“On Sunday. I land at seven.”
“And you don’t have a spare key to your apartment?”
“Nope. You have both keys. You did get the spare from the cleaning company, right?”
“Yes.”
I trace my finger over the rim of my wineglass. It’s my favorite rosé, but it tastes off tonight. Too sweet. I took one sip, and now it’s sitting here, getting warm. “Why?”
“Grant and I are going to the Hamptons tomorrow. We won’t be back till Monday. Want me to drop your keys at Hayden’s?”
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. Hayden is picking me up from the airport, and I’d rather not trouble her by asking her to drop it off across town. I’m sure I can stay in the penthouse another night. “I’ll stay at his place and get my keys from you on Monday.”
“Sounds good. How are you? Has your vacation been everything you hoped for?”
I let out a soft huff. “Aside from the stress that came with caring for my dad and rescheduling my plans, I’d say it’s all going great.”
“How is Hayden?” she asks. “Does he call you? Or text? I need details.”
A pang pierces my heart. He’s been distant these last few days, like the Hade I spent time with before has disappeared. He’s behaving like he used to: like my sister’s best friend. Friendly, but without the warmth I’ve become accustomed to.
“He’s been…fine,” I lie. “He’s been in the studio, so he’s busy.”
She’s silent for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, she says, “He’s acting up, isn’t he?”
“A little. At first, he texted a lot. He even told me he missed me. But then, one day, it was like a switch flipped, and he’s acting the way he did before I came to stay with him. I don’t know what to make of it. Maybe he’s in one of his moods again and doesn’t want me to know.”
“I really hope that’s the case. If he hurts you, he’ll have to deal with me.”
I clear my throat, desperate to change the subject. “Why the Hamptons? I didn’t think you were a fan.”
“I’m not.” She laughs. “Grant’s mom insisted we visit, and I’d rather not suffer her wrath. Good thing my period just ended. It’ll make spending the whole weekend in the pool much easier.”
Unease creeps through me, though I can’t place why. So, I ignore it and continue the conversation, asking more about her plans.
When I end the call, the sensation I’ve missed something important lingers.
“Good morning. Want coffee?” Piper asks.
The kitchen smells like fried eggs, bacon, and coffee. Typically, I love waking up to the scent of breakfast. This morning, though, a wave of nausea crashes over me. I grip the cupboard and breathe in and out, worried I’ll vomit.
Piper watches me. “Ry, are you okay? All the color drained from your face.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “My head is spinning.”
She rushes to me, loops her arm around my waist, and leads me to the couch in the living room. Once I’m lying on my back with a pillow under my head, she towers over me, hands on her hips.
I lick my dry lips, squinting up at her. “I don’t know what came over me.”
She presses her hand to my forehead, her lips twisting. “Hm, you don’t have a fever. Still feel dizzy?”
I shrug. “I think I’m okay.”
Hunter comes in from the kitchen and stops by Piper’s side, wearing a look of concern.
Cheeks heating, I sit up. I hate causing a scene. It brings back memories of when I was fourteen, when my thyroid betrayed me and I couldn’t get out of bed.
“Ry, maybe you should lie down?” Hunter suggests.
The front door opens before I have a chance to reply, and Story and Hudson filter in. They’re both smiling from ear to ear, carrying donut boxes. The scent that follows them—cinnamon and caramel—makes me nauseous all over again.
I launch myself to my feet and scurry to the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before I vomit up the meager contents of my stomach.
When the nausea subsides, I creep into my bedroom and crawl under the blanket. I’m flying home in two days. Whatever this is—a stomach bug, maybe? Food poisoning?—needs to go away by then. To ground myself, I pull my phone from my shorts pocket and type a new message to Hayden.
Me:
Tell me something good about your day. Literally anything will work.
Hade:
I woke up.
I snort.
Me:
Come on. You can do better than that.
Hade:
In my circumstances, the fact that I woke up means it’s a good day.
Me:
Okay. Then I’m really glad you did.
Hade:
What happened?
Me:
Food poisoning is ruining my life.
Hade:
So dramatic.
Me:
I’m blocking you if you don’t start being nice.
Hade:
- This is me begging for your forgiveness.
Hade:
And I’m sorry you don’t feel well. Food poisoning sucks.
Me:
Thank you.
Me:
Can I stay at your place on Sunday night? Nastya is out of town, and she has the keys to my apartment.
Hade:
Are you really sick, or were you just softening me up before you asked?
Me:
Did it work?
Hade:
I would’ve said yes regardless. But only if you promise to make pancakes for breakfast.
A knock on the door startles me, and with a trembling hand, I stuff my phone under my pillow. Goodness, I’m acting like a schoolgirl who got caught passing notes.
“Can I come in?” Piper asks.
“Sure.”
She steps into my room, holding a glass of water and wearing a concerned frown. “How do you feel?”
“I’m not throwing up anymore, so that’s good.” I try to smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. “At least for now.”
With a slight shake of her head, she sits on the edge of the mattress. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Memories are a bitch, aren’t they?”
“You have no idea.” She presses her palm to my cheek. “The image of you lying in bed, so drained, is practically engraved in my mind.”
“My thyroid is fine. I haven’t had issues in years. It’s probably food poisoning.”
Teeth in her bottom lip, she studies me. “But we all ate the same thing last night. Except for the ice cream.”
“Yup, I’m the only one who had vanilla.” I shrug. “Let’s just hope I feel better before Sunday. I want to spend more time with you before I go home.”
“Get some rest.” She kisses my forehead and stands. “I’ll tell the kids not to bother you.”
With a nod, I curl under the blanket and fall into a dreamless sleep.
I woke up around lunchtime, and since then, I’ve felt perfectly fine. It’s a relief to know whatever that was won’t ruin the last couple of days I have here.
“Oh my God.” Story jumps off the sunbed, her eyes round.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She presses a hand to her abdomen. “I’m on my period, and I think…” Her cheeks flame, and her eyes dart around. “I need to go to my room.”
She makes a beeline for the house, leaving me alone by the pool. I close my eyes, resting the back of my head on the sunbed, soaking in the silence. Naturally, my mind wanders, and when Nastya’s words from our call replay in my mind, I jolt up straight.
No.
It can’t be.
I pluck my phone from the coffee table and frantically navigate to the calendar app. Then, my heart plummets. I’m two weeks late.
Could it be because of stress?
I went through the wringer when my dad ended up in the ER, and my worries about Hayden surely don’t help.
It’s possible.
But I know myself too well. I won’t survive tonight without knowing for sure. I need proof it’s not what I’m afraid of.
Panic works its way through me as I rush to Story’s room. When she sees me, her brows knit together.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“Can I borrow your car? I need to go to the store.”
“Just text Piper. They’re probably still out.”
I shake my head. “It’s better if I go myself.”
She tilts her head. “Can I go with you? You look like you’ve had the scare of your life.”
Not wanting to worry her more than I already have, I agree. At the store, I ask her to pick out snacks, and then I sneak away and throw three tests in my basket, hiding them beneath other items.
The rest of the family is still out when we get back, so I make an excuse and slip into my bedroom. I take all three tests and then sit on the floor, eyeing the sticks as if they’ve personally offended me.
I have an implant. We used a condom every time. I can’t be pregnant.
When all three tests show a positive result, I deflate, and my eyes sting with tears. Every result is perfectly visible, even through my blurred vision.
I’m pregnant. My stomach flutters, but not in a good way. This is anxiety, not butterflies.
Fear and uncertainty overtake me, but after a moment, I discover that beneath them, there’s a quiet, almost shy hopefulness. For years, I believed this was impossible. Yet, here I am. It feels like a miracle.
A slow smile creeps over my lips, though it dies when another realization hits me like a hard blow.
I’m pregnant…with Hayden’s child, and I have no idea how he’ll react.