Chapter 46 Blake
BLAKE
IN TEN DAYS, I HAVE to go back to school.
In eight days, I have my seven-week scan.
Coincidence? I think not.
The universe is forcing me to choose. I see you, universe. Transparent bitch.
The idea of not finishing my senior year feels like a waste. I mean, it is a waste. It’s a waste of my parents’ money, because they paid for my tuition. Which means I have to finish college.
While possibly pregnant.
Ugh. And, what, have a baby in the middle of my graduation ceremony?
I mean, Sabrina Tucker did it. She got pregnant with Jamie right before she started law school. That woman is a rock star, though. Her work ethic isn’t sustainable for us mere mortals. I don’t know if I have that kind of discipline.
Wyatt and I are taking the boat out for a few hours, so I put on a pair of shorts over my bathing suit and look for my tote bag.
We’re eager to escape the grandfathers, who’ve been very politely asked not to discuss anything baby-related until a decision has been made, yet they’re constantly sneaking off, and we can hear them giggling together.
I fear they’ll be devastated if we choose not to continue with the pregnancy.
An if that continues to haunt me.
The kitchen smells like pancakes. Usually, it’s an aroma I’d welcome, but it triggers a twinge of nausea. Stupid morning sickness. There’s also a dull ache low in my stomach today. It’s been there since I woke up, this knot of discomfort. But Mom says some cramping is normal.
I hold my breath as I pass the stove and go to the fridge to grab some water.
“You want pancakes?” Dad offers.
“No. It’ll make me throw up.”
“At least try one.”
“Dad, seriously, the smell is so awful.”
“Aw, and I thought these were my best batch.”
“No, it smells fantastic, but it still makes me want to vomit.” I shut the refrigerator door. “Anyway, we’re going out on the boat now.”
“Without eating anything?” He folds his arms. “You’re eating for two now, sweet pea.”
“I’m also puking for two,” I reply, and he chuckles before his expression snaps back to serious.
“Also, are you sure you should be going out on the boat? It’s too dangerous.”
“Dangerous how? It’s not like we’re going cliff diving.”
“I know, but you still need to be careful. What if the boat capsizes?”
I glance at him over my shoulder. “You and Wyatt need to get together and discuss your irrational fear of boats capsizing in Tahoe.”
Mom wanders in from the deck, carrying two empty plates. She and Hannah were eating their breakfast outside. “Leave her alone, John,” she chides.
I set down the water bottle when I feel another cramp. Sharper than before. Taking a breath, I press my hand against my lower abdomen.
Mom notices instantly. “Are you okay?”
“I think so. It’s just, I don’t know, it’s this weird feeling. Like a stretching sensation. But I read that’s normal.” I’m kind of embarrassed to admit I’ve been reading up on early pregnancy, but they know me. I’m not going into any situation without a healthy amount of research.
Mom relaxes, but a flicker of concern remains. “Cramping is normal, yes. Do you have any spotting?”
I shake my head.
“You’re a touch pale,” she says, scrutinizing me. “Are you sure you’re not overdoing it?”
“See!” Dad says triumphantly. He glances at Mom. “And she’s going on a boat ride.”
I glare at him. “Don’t look so proud of yourself for snitching. Also, there’s nothing to snitch. Yes, we’re going out on the boat for a while. It’ll be fine.”
Mom shrugs. “All right, have fun. Just try to take it easy. Don’t swim if you have cramps.”
“I won’t.”
The ache doesn’t subside during our lazy cruise of the lake. By afternoon, it’s deepened, radiating to my back and down my thigh. Deciding maybe I do need to take it easier, I lie on the couch after lunch, scrolling on my phone while Dad watches a movie and Mom and Hannah clean up in the kitchen.
Wyatt is fishing with his dad, which I was quick to encourage. They’ve been hanging out a lot this week, and I can see how happy it makes Wyatt to connect with Garrett over something that isn’t hockey. I wonder if he’ll ever tell his father about all the times he hit up the rink this summer.
My phone buzzes with another message. I’m texting with Little Spencer, who’s back in New York and just sent a picture of his home podcasting studio.
LITTLE SPENCER
See, I can totally get a second chair in here!! And we’ll design a professional backdrop behind the table so it looks like a real studio. OMG I can’t wait for you to move to the city!!!
For the last time, I’m not moving to NYC.
LITTLE SPENCER
Fine, we’ll stick to our weekend plan. FOR NOW!
I grin at my screen, but all of a sudden, the words blur as a wave of nausea hits, forcing me to sit up abruptly.
“You okay?” Dad glances over.
“I’m fine. Just feeling queasy again.”
“Grace, get the bucket,” he calls.
“I don’t need a bucket. There’s a bathroom, like, fifteen feet away.”
I get up, and the room tilts when that sharp pain radiates through me again. My skin feels clammy, and my heartbeat is now pounding in my ears, making me lightheaded.
“What’s going on, kiddo?” Alarm laces his tone.
I hold on to the back of the couch, my vision blurring again. As my knees buckle, I try to steady myself. “Something’s wrong,” I say.
Dad stands so fast that the remote clatters onto the floor. “Talk to me. Where does it hurt?”
I gulp through the nausea, and the pain stabs me deep in the side. White hot and relentless.
A wave of dizziness overtakes me. And then everything goes black.