Chapter 21 - Diana
I groan into the toilet, and it echoes back at me. I hate puking. Fucking hate it. Half the reason I don’t drink much is to avoid throwing up. It’s the worst thing possible in my humble opinion.
After work, I did as I told Karter—came straight home and slept.
That was nine hours ago. I thought I was fine and ate some peanut butter and apples.
Big mistake. I think part of the apple came up my nose while I was trying to spew everything into the toilet.
Now my nose burns, my stomach is empty, and my throat is sore and tastes horrible.
Not the best way to wake up. Like ever.
Nana sticks her head in the door and looks down at me. “I think you need to call in again.”
I shake my head but make no move to get up, just in case I get another “attack.” That’s what I’m calling whatever this is.
An attack on me. Something unplanned and completely out of left field.
There were zero signs leading up to this.
Not only is this an attack, it’s a damn terrorist assault on my immune system.
“Vicky will kill me,” I mumble.
“Better that than dealing with this at the hospital. You could spread it or just feel like shit away from anything that makes you feel remotely comfortable.”
She has a point. Throwing up in your own bathroom is ten times better than in someone else’s. Especially at a hospital. They get cleaned every few hours, but can it really be that clean with that many people using it?
“Fine. Hand me my phone.”
“Let’s get you in bed, and then you can text. I’m going to go pick you up a few things that might help from the store.” She helps me off the floor. For a woman her age, she’s strong as shit right now. I might even bruise from the force of it, but that pain is welcome compared to whatever this is.
She gets me a water, a throw-up bag in case I can’t make it to the bathroom, and a washcloth for my head. She might not have been trained as a nurse, but she’s one hell of a caregiver.
“Be back soon. Text me if you think of something you need.”
I just nod, though I doubt I actually moved. Parts of my body hurt more than ever, but I’m not tired. I still close my eyes and pray for sleep to take over so I can just be done with whatever this is.
I text Vicky, and surprisingly, all she sends is the okay sign. However, it’s Ashley who has something more to add.
I can’t believe you’re faking sick. I told you I don’t like anyone else here. This is beyond rude of you to “pretend” sickness just so you can get hot HOT sex with your silver fox.
Silver fox?
Yeah, hello. The guy you’re dating. He has silver fox written all over him.
I watch three dots appear and disappear before the next text comes in.
Or do you prefer to call him Daddy?
If I were feeling better, I might be blushing. But I don’t even have the energy for that. Or to talk much.
You’re delusional. Going back to bed. Try to make friends and talk to someone, and don’t piss off Vicky too much. She might force you to work with others just out of spite.
Fine, go rest. But you better be back at work tomorrow, or I’m coming over and making you chicken soup. And trust me, you don’t want that. I suck at cooking, and that will get you out of bed and back to work in no time if I have to force it down your throat myself.
I huff and close my eyes as I set down my phone. The nausea seems to be passing if I don’t move.
A ping from my phone has me sighing as I open my eyes and look at the screen.
How you feeling, Babygirl? You still sleeping or back at work and forgot to let me know?
Oops, I forgot to text him earlier. I roll to my side and slowly type my message, as it takes a lot out of me right now to even do that.
Still sick. Called in again.
Oh no. I’ll be over in just a little bit.
Please don’t.
Three dots. A pause. More dots. Another pause. He doesn’t know what to say, so I do it for him.
I have good and bad moments. I’m hoping I just need more time. If I’m contagious, I really don’t want you to catch it. Then we’ll just be sharing it back and forth between us, and that will be no fun for anyone.
Might be a little bit of fun.
I laugh at his humor.
Seriously, this sucks. Puking is the second thing on my list that I hate most in the world. I don’t want to go through this again once I get over it.
What’s the first?
I knew he would ask, and a smile forms as I type my response.
Being away from you. Lol. It’s cabbage.
Don’t joke like that. Well, I get the cabbage shit, that stuff sucks. But I’m starting to put being away from you as something I hate most in the world. It’s already moved up to the number three spot.
What are the other two?
Not getting to be between your thighs.
Karter!
Hehe. Thought you’d like that.
And the other?
Cabbage.
I send him an eye-roll emoji and then tell him I’m going to sleep for a bit. He lets me go easily, knowing that the sooner I get better, the sooner we can spend time together.
I roll to my other side and look out the window. It’s a cloudy day, but I can see the trees swaying from the breeze and a few birds flying by. Not sure how long I stay like that, but soon Nana is back with a bag of stuff she sets on my bed.
I push up to a sitting position and surprisingly feel a little better as I open the bag and pull out what she got.
Ginger ale, crackers, Pedialyte—and a pregnancy test.
I look at her as I hold the last item like it’s a grenade about to go off.
“Wha…?” My brain isn’t firing like usual. Nothing happens. I just blink at the box and then at Nana.
“Your mama came home feeling the same way you do once. She was seeing someone too. Not someone serious or anything. Took us a while to try one of these, so I figured we’d start with this and rule it out first before moving on to figure out what else it could be.”
I shake my head. “But I’m… but we….”
She sits on the corner of my mattress and puts her hand over mine, pushing the box to the bed as she uses her other hand to lift my head to look at her and not the other thing.
“You have someone special in your life, honey. I know you ain’t saving anything for a white dress. No use in pretending otherwise. And it’s only a test. Something that, till we know differently, is nothing but a test that means nothing.”
“Or it could mean everything.”
She nods. “Yes.” No false truths with Nana. She lets go of my hand and stands. “Now, you going to pussyfoot around this all day, or are you going to go in there and pee on a stick to rule this out?”
Nana might not lie, but she also doesn’t sugarcoat anything either.
I debate for half a second before the choice, as usual, is taken out of my hands.
Nana rips open the box, reads over the instructions, then hands me the stick.
“Pee on this end and set it on the counter. We look after three minutes.”
Three minutes. Seems silly that it only takes that long for your plans to change.
I stand and head to the bathroom, stick clenched in my hand. My legs tremble, but I have no clue if it’s from being sick, fear, or the possibility of something more.
Guess I’ll know in three minutes.
“What are you going to do?”
I shrug at Nana’s question. I’ve got no clue.
She glares at me. “Diana Jane, I did not raise you half your life to sit and watch you screw up the rest of it. I taught you better than that.”
I sigh. She’s right, but I still don’t know what to do.
I’m pregnant. I already know that I’m keeping it. That’s not the question. The debate is what I do about Karter. Do I tell him? Would he care? Would he even want this?
We’ve been dating for a few months now, but he has baggage, as do I. Hell, last time I was around his family, he got in a fight, and half of it was simply because I was there. The tension with me in his life isn’t good.
Do I love the man? With every part of my body and soul.
When I said it the other day on the phone, I freaked out not because of the slip, but because that wasn’t how I wanted to tell him the first time.
I wanted it to be as magical of a moment as my feelings for him are.
Not something that we would forget about years down the line when someone asks who said it first and we can’t even recall.
Or worse, we do, and it becomes a big joke that I didn’t mean it when I said it.
Might not have been half as bad if he’d said it back, but all I got was a “Night, Babygirl” from him.
Which is better than just a hang-up, I guess, but not by much.
The doorbell chimes, and I look at Nana with panic in my eyes.
With a shake of her head, she goes to the door.
Karter already said he was coming over with dinner for the three of us.
It’s been an entire day, and while morning sickness isn’t restricted to the morning, I haven’t gotten sick again since earlier today.
We’re still aiming for mild food, though, nothing too spicy—and nothing that could hurt the baby.
Being a nurse has benefits I never thought of before.
Like knowing instantly what not to eat when pregnant and what to take to ease the nausea.
Still, while I might have read all the books, done all the training, and watched so many other people have babies, having one growing inside me freaks me out a bit.
But in a good way.
I’d never really thought about being a mom, and now I’m going to be. I just have to decide whether I’m raising them like my mom did, single-handed, or if I’ll have a partner to help.
“Hey, ladies, how we feeling?” Karter comes into the kitchen, setting the sealed bags on the table before leaning down and kissing my forehead.
Then he checks my temperature with the back of his hand.
“You don’t feel hot. You doing okay? Should you be back in bed?
I can carry you up and bring you some food. ”
I grab his hand off my forehead and hold it close to my heart with a smile. “I’m okay. Feeling better, actually.”
“Good. I didn’t like not being able to see my girl.”
I beam at his words as he turns to grab the plates. He’s been here long enough to know where most everything is, and soon, with Nana’s help, the three of us are sitting at the kitchen table and dishing up food.
“So, Karter, how’s that kid of yours?”
I’m not sure who spits out more food, me or him. I kick her under the table, but Karter yelps in pain.
“Ow.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Foot slipped.” I lower my head, but not before catching Nana’s eyes and glaring. She plays innocent as she sips her water between bites.
“Good, actually. We had a bit of a breakthrough last night.”
I perk up at the news. “You did?”
He smirks and rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “Yeah. First time we’ve spoken to each other, just her and me, since I woke up. We both said shit that needed to be said without the pressure of others around. Think it was good for us. We agreed to start over, sort of.”
I reach out and grab his hand on the table, squeezing it tight before letting it go and picking up my fork again. “That’s great to hear. I’m happy for you. Both of you.”
He nods, then shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling. “Fuck, she told me she’s pregnant.”
The fork freezes halfway to my mouth. My heart stutters. I look at Nana, who’s also gone still.
“I’m going to be a grandpa. Can’t fucking believe it.” He looks back down with another shake of his head, and I quickly set my fork down and put my hands under the table to keep the tremor in them out of his line of sight.
“Pregnant?” I can barely say the word.
“Yeah. Her and Kooper, her old man who I decked, are going to raise a kid together. I’m still trying to process all of it.
I’m happy for her, for them. And I told her I might not remember shit about her childhood, but I’ll make sure that my grandkid knows me well enough that if I lose my memory again, I’ll remember them.
” He shakes his head again and then smiles.
“Shit, I can’t believe it. I’m going to be a grandpa. ”
I lick my lips and blink back tears that have a mind of their own.
“Sorry,” he mutters as he looks at me and then Nana. “Don’t mean to keep cursing, but I’m still wrapping my head around this. And she told me to keep it a secret for a few weeks to make sure shit is together or something.”
“The first trimester,” I whisper on autopilot.
He nods. “Yeah. They want to make sure they’re past that stage before the club finds out.
I wanted to tell someone, and since I can’t tell them, you guys are stuck with me rationalizing all this till they take off my gag order.
Me, a grandpa who can’t remember his own kid.
How about them apples? Fuck, I’m just happy it’s that way and not me finding out someone I was seeing was pregnant who I didn’t remember.
Can you imagine? Being a grandpa is going to take some getting used to, but being a new dad? Ha, that would be trippy.”
“Yeah, trippy.” I reach for my water and drink before I say anything else.
“Very trippy.” Nana gives me a sympathetic look and a nod of understanding before drinking from her glass as well.
Looks like we’re both on the same page. Not telling Karter he’ll be a dad, at least right now, feels like the best option.
At least I hope so.