13. Indie
INDIE
JUNE
Between the relentless cramping in my lower abdomen and the effort it takes just to lift my head enough to aim for the toilet, I’m a complete fucking disaster.
My sundress sticks uncomfortably to my body from the sweat, the fabric damp and clinging and awful against my skin, making me want to tear it off just to breathe.
But I don’t have a change of clothes, and I’m in the guest bathroom at Dawn’s house, emptying my guts into the toilet like some tragic after-school special—stupid enough to eat food I didn’t watch being made, foolish for lowering my guard around people who’ve never earned my trust.
Teddy presses a cold compress to the back of my neck. It feels like relief for one second before my stomach tightens again, violently, and I lurch over the toilet and throw up once more.
I dry-heave after, my whole body trembling with the effort, my stomach spasming painfully until tears sting the corners of my eyes.
Blindly, I reach up and flush, then fall back against the side of the tub, shaking. The porcelain is cool against my shoulder, but not cool enough to soothe my overheated body.
“Oh, baby…” Teddy gently pushes my hair back from my sweaty forehead. “Jesus Christ.”
My brain already feels sluggish, my joints already aching, and the rash on my fingers keeps itching. I’ve had these symptoms before—not for a while, because I’m always careful—but I know exactly what this is.
Teddy’s mother specifically requested my presence for dinner tonight. I didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t use the excuse that I had work, since my residency is complete.
I’m officially an oncologist.
Boards passed.
Bluewater is waiting for me.
It’s been months since the dinner incident in February, where I snapped at Dawn. I haven’t seen her in person since then, but Teddy said she wanted to apologize to me. That alone took me off guard. I have never heard Dawn sincerely apologize to anyone for anything.
And I guess sick curiosity won out, because after Teddy asked me to come, I said yes.
It was a barbecue for Judd’s birthday. Dawn went all out—streamers, balloons, a beautiful, elaborate cake that Judd immediately scrunched his nose at.
“You should’ve gotten a Carvel cake, Dawn, fucking Christ…”
It seemed fine at first.
Danielle and Stephanie weren’t available to come, but I sipped my wine and laughed with Teddy.
Lily kept her distance, just lingering with the aunts and her mother, and Dawn was…
strangely pleasant. She rushed over to greet us, and instead of greeting Teddy first, as always, she pulled me into a hug.
“Oh, I’m so happy to see you, sweetheart,” she blubbered in my ear.
“I am so sorry for my behavior these last few months. I’ve just been so torn up over my mother’s death, and I’ve felt like I’ve been losing my baby boy.
Please forgive me. I want us to have a good relationship—a mother-daughter-in-law relationship, if you’d have me. ”
When I pulled back to look at Dawn’s face, shock registered. She was crying—actual tears, with red-rimmed eyes and snot at her nose. Her expression looked genuinely upset. It was only the second time I’ve seen her this undone, and my surprise left me nodding mutely.
Teddy beamed.
Dawn kissed my cheek.
That should have been a warning sign, but unfortunately, my optimism has grown louder than my pragmatism.
Later, Dawn handed me a plate of pasta salad and steak with a wink.
“I made sure it was that chickpea pasta you’ve mentioned before,” she said brightly. “And I checked—twice—to make sure it’s gluten-free Italian dressing.”
“Oh,” I murmured, startled. “Thank you, Dawn.”
She smoothed my hair down and floated away to speak to the next guest.
For a couple of stupid hours, I had actually felt touched by the care. Teddy had the brightest smile on his face. I thought maybe it was an olive branch. I thought maybe she was coming around.
I was so, so wrong.
“Is this a bug or something, honey?”
My sharp, hoarse laugh is my response, and my eyes snap open.
“Your mom gave me gluten, Teddy. That’s why I feel like this,” I groan, pressing both hands to my sore stomach.
I slip into my doctor voice and present the facts like I’m presenting a case, because apparently that’s what it takes.
“My immune system is attacking my small intestine. Nausea and stomach cramping and—” I gag, wincing at the ache in my gut.
Teddy looks more horrified with each word, and there it is—that familiar torn look. The one that always comes right before he reaches for an excuse on her behalf.
“It… I don’t think it was on purpose—”
“Look at me and say that again,” I hiss, pausing to breathe through the cramping. “Look at the state I’m in.”
Teddy keeps his gaze down.
“Teddy,” I bark, patience long gone.
He looks at me, opens his mouth, closes it, and does that three more times before he sighs. His face collapses, and he cradles my cheek, thumb brushing in a way that would be soothing if I didn’t feel this misery.
“Lily said her pasta tasted weird,” he says slowly, like he’s trying to build logic where there is none. “She said maybe the plates got mixed up, remember? Maybe yours ended up with hers, and hers ended up with yours.”
Of fucking course.
Dawn is smart, always calculating in how she handles things.
The thing is, this excuse works so goddamn well. It’s believable to someone who doesn’t know her, or to someone who isn’t aware that I’ll be taking Teddy away next month and that she’s running out of chances to stop it.
The sick thing is that some part of me keeps wondering if I’m just paranoid. What if it was a mistake? What if she did mix up the plates? That happens. It’s why I’m so particular about what restaurants we go to, why I ask questions, and why I’m careful.
“Maybe,” I say dryly.
Teddy looks at me sadly.
Grabbing a fresh hand towel, he wets it in the sink and dabs it over my face and neck. His touch is so soft, so tender, his gaze so loving.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
And that is what keeps ruining me.
How can those two men exist in the same body?
And then, always, the cruelest question comes next.
Why am I still here?
The answer is easy, even if I wish it weren’t.
Because, despite everything, I love Teddy more than I’ve ever loved anyone.
When I’m in, I’m in. I am committed. I didn’t become a doctor because it was easy. And I’ve put so much time, effort, and emotion into this relationship that some ugly, miserable part of me doesn’t want to throw it away because of the difficulty with his mother.
Sunk cost, my mind hisses.
I love Teddy.
Is that enough?
I don’t like the answer to that either.
“Knock-knock!”
The door to the bathroom swings open, and there they are. I groan and turn back to the toilet, instantly feeling sick again.
Dawn and Lily stand in the doorway. Lily wrinkles her nose the second she sees me, sweaty and shaking on the floor, paling in comparison to her in her pretty little dress, hair, and makeup still flawlessly done.
“Mom, can you give us a minute—” Teddy starts to close the door.
But Dawn just steamrolls right past him.
She steps into the bathroom, her mouth twisting in disgust at the lingering stench of my vomit.
Yeah. Breathe it all in, Dawn.
I don't even get to enjoy the twisted look on her face when another stomach cramp hits, and I gasp. Teddy’s face screws up—his eyes flash anger, frustration, and beneath that, irritation.
The shift in his body language is visible as he clenches his jaw.
“Oh, you poor dear,” Dawn coos, holding up a bottle and shaking it loud enough to make me wince. “I brought some Tums. That should help with your tummy issues, right?”
Tummy issues, like I’m not turning myself inside out. Taking a Tums for this is like putting a bandage over a knife wound. I stare at the bottle. It looks old enough that I wonder if it expired sometime in the last decade.
“It’s fine,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m fine—”
The cramp in my stomach tightens so hard I fold over with a broken sound, and Teddy is immediately there, his hand rubbing over my back.
“Jesus, baby…”
“Aw, poor thing. Teddy, why don’t you come back downstairs? Bindi is the doctor, after all,” Dawn says, all sweet. I almost laugh that even now, she’ll call me by the wrong name. “I think she knows how to take care of herself—”
“Come on, Teddy,” Lily adds, stepping farther into the room. “I wanted to show you more pictures from—”
She reaches for his arm, and Teddy yanks it out of the way so fast she startles. He stands in front of me, physically blocking me from them.
“It’s Theo, Lily. Theo. And her name is Indie,” Teddy snaps, his voice short and sharp; the edge in his tone shocks me. I freeze, a dangerous hope rising.
Lily laughs awkwardly, “Theodore—”
“I’ve told you both countless fucking times by now,” he says, voice hard. “Her name is Indie. Dr. Miller, if you can’t remember that.”
Dawn and Lily both gape at him, stunned into silence. I feel the corners of my mouth quirk upward before I can stop them.
“Did you hand her the wrong plate on purpose, Mom?”
Dawn’s jaw drops, and she looks genuinely offended at the question.
“Theodore, how could you even ask me that? I would never harm anyone like that. What kind of person do you think I am?”
“I don’t know, Mom,” Teddy throws his hand up, exasperated. “But look at Indie—the love of my life—look at her!”
Dawn’s eyes drift over me for only a second before she looks back to her son.
“Did you do this to her?” he hisses.
“Theodore James, I promise I did not give her the wrong plate. I think they may have gotten switched in the chaos of the day—”
My stomach rebels again. I gag toward the toilet, and both Dawn and Lily jump back so fast it’d be funny if I didn’t feel like I was dying.
Teddy immediately comes to my side, pulling my hair back and barking at them over his shoulder.
“Get out!”
Dawn and Lily look stunned, staring at him in shock.
“Theodore James—”
Teddy turns his head and roars, “Now!”
Dawn sends me a look; I return it with a small smile before my stomach rebels again. Teddy stays, rubbing my back and humming.
Teddy wipes my mouth after, his tender gaze trailing over my face. No doubt I look awful, and briefly wonder if I have vomit on my face, but Teddy still looks at me like I’m beautiful.
“Hi, honey,” he murmurs.
“Hey, Teddy bear,” I moan, giving him a small smile.
He grins and leans forward, kissing my forehead and breathing me in.
These are the moments that ruin me.
The ones that make me believe we’ll make it.
As Teddy supports me, pressing gentle kisses to my hair and promising comfort, I let myself believe again that we’re strong enough. Maybe these moments matter more than the bad.
That maybe, just maybe, we can still make it out of this.