Chapter 9
Nine
Harper
“Ugh,” I groan, resting my forehead on the toilet seat and waiting for my stomach to settle.
Morning sickness.
They fucking lie.
It’s morning sickness and mid-morning sickness, lunchtime sickness and early-afternoon sickness.
It’s dinner sickness and going-to-bed sickness and once on a truly awful night three days ago, it was wake me at a godawful hour of the night to have me running through my bedroom and gagging into the toilet.
A-fucking-gain.
This is going to end, right?
Because I’m only a week into knowing about this baby and I want to curl up in the corner and cry.
The nausea wells up, and I retch again, tears streaming down my cheeks, my bladder doing its level best to turn itself inside out while I attempt to not pee myself.
I succeed—but it’s a close thing.
Standing when it feels like I’m finally empty, I make a pitstop at the sink to rinse out my mouth and brush my teeth.
With my puke delay, I need to kick it into gear.
But it’s better than me watching the clock like I’d been before this baby sent me scurrying to the bathroom, worrying my way into premature frown lines.
Worrying about the decision I’d made.
Worrying that something might be wrong.
Worrying that I did something wrong and this baby I’m already in love with might be—
I gag again, christen the porcelain goddess even though there is absolutely nothing left for my body to expel.
Then I repeat the whole rinsing and brushing routine.
“Okay,” I say to my reflection. “Enough for a few minutes, yeah?”
My reflection doesn’t reply, just stares back at me, pale and a little sweaty.
And I sigh, know that’s as good as it’s going to get.
I grab my things, making sure to snag my planner with its list of questions, and drive over to the clinic, arriving a little breathless and only ten minutes early.
My mom would be so disappointed.
On time is fifteen minutes early, baby girl.
The raw edges of the wound in my heart throb.
Maybe I won’t take it to that extreme, but hopefully I’ll teach my kid to be punctual, to respect other people’s time.
I finish with the paperwork, hold the clipboard close, and try to calm my racing heart.
But as my appointment time ticks closer, my pulse doesn’t settle. Questions are swirling through my head and my mouth is dry and my stomach is queasy.
None of which abate when my appointment time comes and goes.
Of course, the doctor is running late.
Then again, I suppose babies come on their own timeline.
As I wait, I pull out my planner, start running through my questions.
Before I can get more than a few in, the outside door opens and—
I suck in a breath as Leo strolls into the clinic.
He looks completely out of place in the quote-unquote traditionally female space—all masculine strength amongst the pink walls and black and white pictures of babies, the magazines with Covergirls and makeup ads and sex advice.
But I barely have a chance to process that before his eyes lock with mine.
Then he’s crossing over to me, sinking down into the empty chair next to mine.
“Hey,” he says casually, as though this is the most obvious place in the world for us to cross paths.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss, the churning in my stomach back with a vengeance.
“Here,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wrapped candy.
“What—?”
He presses it into my palm. “Ginger candy,” he explains, unwrapping it and lifting it up to my mouth when I just stare at him. He touches it to my lips. “It’s supposed to help with the nausea.”
“I—”
He plunks it into my mouth before I can finish forming my protest. “I’m here because…” His voice gentles. “I’m here because I told you I’d be here.”
My heart spasms.
My head says, And how long will that last?
I take a breath as the candy begins to melt on my tongue and I don’t know if it’s Leo distracting me or if the ginger sweet is actually helping, but my nausea begins to ease.
“No,” I say, trying to focus on the infuriating and confusing man currently taking up residence beside me, “you’re here because Luna can’t help herself and butted in. ”
“Actually, she didn’t.”
I lift my brows. “She didn’t tell you when and where my appointment was—” I shake my head. “Is—” Another shake. “Or rather, is going to be because the doctor is behind?”
He studies me like I’m an intricate puzzle he’s desperate to solve.
I steel my heart against the way it wants to go soft, wants to roll over and expose its vulnerable underbelly.
That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.
“I’m just glad I didn’t miss it,” he murmurs.
And there my heart goes again.
I scowl at him.
“And no,” he says, ignoring my glower. “Luna didn’t tell me—or not directly, anyway. She and the girls were worried about you. I just happened…to overhear the details.”
“That’s convenient,” I mutter.
“Okay, so maybe it’s more like I purposely eavesdropped, but I meant what I told you, Harp. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Except…I do.
I’m the one who’s puking my guts up.
I’m the one who has an alien—okay, fine, a tiny embryo that’s going to, hopefully, turn into a full-fledged human someday—growing in my womb.
I’m the one who has to make the tough choices.
I’m the one it falls to—
His fingers cover mine. “Breathe, baby.”
I snatch my hand back. “I’m fine,” I snap.
“You look like you’re either going to puke your guts up again or pass out.”
“I’m not going to do either of those things.”
And I hate that the not puking portion is because of Leo and his damned candy.
“Works for me,” he says. “My arms are kind of tired from the gym yesterday—catching you so you don’t crack your head on the floor and/or cleaning up puke isn’t high on my priority list at the moment.” He rubs his biceps. “It’s a recovery day, after all.”
Okay, now I’m convinced the man is trying to piss me off.
Especially when he tosses me a half-smile, his eyes dancing with humor.
Ugh.
Why does he have to be so hot?
“You need to go,” I grind out.
His smile fades.
Ha. Take that.
“I’m not leaving, Harp. I don’t have to go back with you, but I’ll at least walk you out to your car when you’re done.”
I open my mouth—
“But I hope you’ll let me come with you. The books say a lot of information is covered, especially at a first visit, and they recommend having a second person around to help take it all in.”
“The books?”
He shrugs, the barest hint of pink appearing on his cheeks. “Books on pregnancy. I figured I’d better read up in case you—”
“Harper?”
My gaze whips to the side, and I spot the nurse standing in the doorway, a clipboard in her hands.
Quickly jumping to my feet, I hurry over to her.
“Harper?” she says as I come close.
I nod. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Good. Let’s go on back.”
She turns, starts heading down the hall.
I take a step after her then stop, my gaze drawn back over my shoulder.
Leo’s still in the chair, but he’s watching me, those deep brown eyes blazing with emotion.
“Dammit,” I whisper.
Then I do something that’s probably incredibly stupid.
I gesture for him to follow me.