22. We Can’t Tell Anyone
WE CAN’T TELL ANYONE
ANNELISA
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OLD
A wave of nausea hits me as soon as I open my eyes, and I move my hand around in the early morning light until I make contact with my phone.
I feel like I haven’t slept, but looking at the time, I’ve been asleep for nine hours.
I’d barely been able to keep my eyes open all day yesterday and crashed super early last night.
“What time is it?” Will asks groggily, his chest pressed against my back while he spoons me.
“Just after five,” I reply, putting the phone back down before reaching for my water bottle, hoping that a drink will help me with the nausea.
Will groans and rolls onto his back. “I don’t want to go to work today,” he says, rubbing his eyes.
“Yeah. But at least we have Jake’s party to look forward to tomorrow night. Are you still going to the apartment to have dinner with him tonight?” I ask, sitting up to take a sip of water .
“Yeah. We’re meeting him after work. I still can’t believe he won an actual apartment. Wish we could win an apartment,” he grumbles.
I smile. He’s so cute in the mornings. The only time he’s okay with waking up this early is when he’s going surfing, but he hasn’t been in a few weeks.
I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s part of the reason why he’s so grumpy about going to work.
We’ve been toying with the idea of moving closer to the beach, but it would suck being so far away from everyone, and his job would make the commute difficult as well.
Maybe once he goes out on his own, we can think about it again.
“I think we need to buy tickets in order to actually win anything,” I state before closing my eyes for a moment, and take a deep breath.
The nausea grows more intense, and I rub my stomach a little
“You okay?” he asks, watching me closely.
“I feel a bit sick, actually. I hope I haven’t caught a bug. I’ve been looking forward to this party for a few weeks.”
It’s been ages since we had the entire group together, now that Jake lives out in Stanthorpe. And Morgan mentioned that Bri is moving back after her shitty break-up earlier this week, so it really will be just like the old days.
Will sits up beside me and rubs my back. “I think we have some ginger-ale in the fridge. Want me to grab you some?”
I nod, closing my eyes again. He kisses my shoulder before climbing out of bed and heading downstairs to grab my drink.
I lie back down, wondering why I feel so tired.
Where would I even have caught a bug? I don’t really go anywhere during the week at the moment, as I’ve been deep in first draft hell for the past few months, determined to get my fourth novel to my publisher early.
I need a break soon though, because I can feel the signs of burnout creeping in. That’s probably all this is. My body telling me I need to take better care of myself .
Will pads back into the room and places the can of ginger-ale next to me. “Here, babe, drink this. It should hopefully help.”
“Thanks,” I say, propping myself up on my elbow and taking a sip.
The fizzy, cool liquid hits the back of my throat, and I sit up abruptly.
“Shit. Not good?” Will steps back as I push past him and race for the ensuite.
I make it just in time, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet while he holds my hair back. A cool sheen of sweat forms on my face, and I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.
“I would ask if it was something you ate, but I feel fine,” Will says once I sit back on my heels.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve felt a bit off all week, but I just thought maybe I was a bit rundown,” I reply in a hoarse voice.
He heads out of the bathroom before returning with my water bottle in his hand. “Here. Rinse your mouth out.” He leans over to flush the toilet while I slide backward to lean against the wall, pulling my legs up to my chest.
After a few moments, he clears his throat, and I look up when he starts digging around in the top drawer of the vanity.
“What is it?” I ask when a troubled look crosses his face.
“I don’t want to be that person who asks this every time a woman is sick, but… When did you last have your period?” He pulls out a full packet of tampons. “Pretty sure this is the one I got you two months ago, right?”
I lean my head back against the wall while I silently try to do the math.
I’ve been so preoccupied with work lately that I’ve lost track, but I think he’s right, it’s been at least seven weeks since my last period…
I reach up and touch my breasts, realising that they’ve been super sensitive for the last couple of weeks.
I look back up to meet Will’s gaze, certain my expression is as freaked out as his .
“I can’t be pregnant… right?” I whisper.
He crouches down beside me. “I want to say no, but…”
I nod. “We need to get a test.”
Will goes to the grocery store as soon as it opens, telling his boss he’ll be in a little late. But when he comes home with the packet of pregnancy tests, I just can’t deal with it.
“You don’t need to do anything until you’re ready, babe,” Will says, taking a seat on the couch next to me while I stare at the box on the coffee table.
“How about never? Does never work for you?”
He pulls me to his side and presses a kiss to my temple. “Whatever works for you. But just so you know, if you take the test and it comes back positive… We’re in this together, okay?”
I nod slowly, knowing he means every word. But I’m not sure I’m ready to consider anything other than a negative result.
Eventually, he leaves for work and I attempt to get back into the Christmas romance I’m writing, but my gaze keeps drifting back to the white box in front of me. The nausea has completely disappeared, and I manage to convince myself that it was all just in my head.
I get through the rest of the day. Will comes home briefly to shower before heading to Jake’s new apartment, leaving me to fend for myself for dinner.
As I get up from the couch, another wave of nausea sets in, and eventually all I can stomach is Vegemite on toast. With a heavy feeling in my chest, I finally admit that I need to take the test.
Convinced that it’s going to be negative, I rip open the packet, pretending to be completely at ease. Trying to fool myself into believing it will all be fine.
But when the second line appears, a numb feeling sets in.
When Will gets home a few hours later, he finds me curled up on the couch, staring at the used test while I try not to think about how much my life is about to change.
And how much I’m not ready for it.
“Come here,” Will says, opening his arms as he sits down beside me. I turn and burrow into his side, letting myself draw comfort from his embrace. “We will work this out, Annie. I promise.”
I nod, squeezing my eyes shut as tears start to form.
A baby. I can’t have a baby. I’m not ready. We’re not ready. There’s still so much I want to do before I even think about a family, if I even want one at all…
“Did you want to call your mum? Or Tara? Do you need Morgan? What do you need, babe?”
I pull away and shake my head frantically. “No. We can’t tell anyone. Not yet.”
He studies my face for a moment. “You’re right. Aren’t we supposed to keep it to ourselves for like the first three months? I feel like that’s something I’ve heard.”
I let out a breath, relieved that he’s as clueless about all of this as I am. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what people say to do.”
“We should make an appointment to see your doctor next week, though? In case there’s something special we’re supposed to do.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and before long, he’s fallen down a complete rabbit hole of pregnancy articles.
While all I want to do is pretend that nothing has to change.