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CHAPTER THREE
In my twenties, there would be a completely different reason for the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl being my closest companion as of late.
Now, I’m here because there’s a little being inside me who can’t stand for me to have a midday meal.
I sit on the bathroom floor, my knees pulled tightly to my chest, forehead resting against the cool rim as a wave of nausea rolls through me.
My entire body trembles from the exertion, it’s enough to make me cry.
Whoever came up with the term morning sickness is a liar and deserves a swift kick in their nether regions.
I’ve spent the last couple of weeks waiting for the proverbial afternoon fog to lift, expecting to feel human by the time three o’clock rolls around.
Except my body has written its own script, it didn’t give a damn about my work hours, Zoom or in-person meetings, or the fact that I’m starving yet the thought of food sends me into a revolt that rivals a thousand and one hangovers.
“Stupid, misleading medical terminology,” I mutter into the empty bathroom, my voice a raspy whisper.
The digital clock on the counter tells me I need to get a move on or I’m going to be late to my appointment with Harbor View.
Thankfully, they called earlier this morning and asked if they could push the time back by an hour.
When I made the appointment, my afternoon sickness hadn’t reared its ugly head.
Now that it has, Tracy calling me truly saved me from doing this in the office.
“Ugh.” Still, I can’t be late, yet the residual nausea is trying to keep me down.
I can’t let my temperamental stomach lock me inside my apartment again.
I haul myself up off the tile floor, my legs feeling like jelly, but I force them to move.
I go through the motions of rinsing my mouth out with cold water, then brushing my teeth for the third time today.
When I’m through, the taste of mint finally masking the bitterness, I splash some cold water on my face before staring at my reflection in the mirror.
Wow, I look pale. The shadow-bruised skin beneath my eyes is all too telling.
My usual vibrant complexion is muted. I look like a ghost of the girl who used to breeze her way through the day without a care in the world.
Makeup is definitely going to be my friend today.
I dab concealer beneath my eyes, plotting it in, swipe some blush on my cheeks, and pull my hair up in a cute top knot of a bun.
I trade my sweatpants for a pair of loose, comfortable linen pants that I pair with a soft knit top.
I grab my purse, small notebook where I jotted down all of my frantic, probably ridiculous questions for my doctor inside.
“I can do this,” I tell myself then take a deep breath, shove my feet in a pair of slides, slip my phone in my pocket, grab a light denim jacket, and walk out.
After locking the door, I head down the hall to the elevator.
The doors open up entirely too soon for my liking.
Even the ride down has my stomach churning, whether it’s from the nerves over my appointment or the remnants of afternoon sickness, I have no idea.
What I do know is when the elevator doors slide open and I walk across the lobby of my building, I’m feeling relatively steady.
It must be the breathing techniques I read about and used on the way down here.
I push through the heavy glass door to exit the building and step out in the warm afternoon air.
My hand is ready to hail a cab. I could have used the app to hire a driver, but after watching one too many documentaries, I’ve switched to using the yellow car service, at least for appointments such as these.
I don’t even make it to the curb.
Standing next to concrete planter outside the entrance, arms crossed over her blazer, is Alexandria.
I freeze, and my heart leaps straight into my throat.
I grip the strap of my purse so tightly my knuckles turn white.
For weeks, I’ve been successfully avoiding everyone, staying away from certain floors of Sterling Capital, ignoring the group chats, buried my head in the sand.
Yet here Alex is, looking at me like a stunning roadblock.
“Alex, what…what are you doing here?” I fail at holding back my shock.
“I’m waiting for you.” She doesn’t look angry, just incredibly knowing.
“How did you know I’d be coming out and right now? How did you even know I was home?” I swallow hard, trying to play it cool even though I can feel my complexion paling and giving me away.
“Romy, please. I may not have known the exact time, and I may have been waiting for a neighbor to come down so I could slip through, but Vik is my boss. The man has the emotional subtlety of a brick wall.” She sighs, shaking her head.
“His mood swings have been a nightmare to deal with. He went from being uncharacteristically happy, almost too pleasant to deal with to a brooding, terrifying pain in my ass in the span of a couple of weeks, drinking vodka in his dark office and glaring at anyone who dares to get in his way.” A sharp pang hits me in the chest at the mention of Vik.
I close my eyes for a brief second, the image of his dark, tortured eyes flashes behind my eyelids.
God, I miss him. I miss him so damn much it feels like a physical ache deep in my bones. Fear. The fear of telling him my news and what it would do to us, to him, kept me from spilling my heart and soul to him.
“And besides,” Alex continues softly, her tone shifting from the corporate dry humor she usually carries to genuine concern, “you’ve gone radio silent.
You never do that, Romy. You’re the one who usually spams the group chat with memes, checks on everyone, and plans our girls’ night.
When you disappeared into thin air, I noticed.
Plus, two plus two equals four. Or, in Vik’s case, two plus two equals an absolute emotional crisis. ”
“I just needed… I, ugh, just needed some space. I haven’t been feeling well.” I bite my lower lip, looking down at the sidewalk, feeling exposed, stripped of the armor I’d been building.
“Clearly,” Alex replies gently. She reaches out, resting her hand softly on my forearm. “Because looking at you right now, seeing how pale you are, and watching the way your hand is practically glued to your stomach… it all clicks. One plus one equals three.
“Three?” I blink, a tear finally escaping and slipping down my cheek. I don’t have the energy to wipe it way.
“Yeah, because I’ve been in your shoes before, Romy,” Alex whispers, eyes softening with a deep, profound empathy that catches me off guard.
“You have?” She nods as a shadow of an old and heavy grief crosses over her features.
“Years ago, before Sterling, before any of this, I found myself exactly where you are right now. Terrified, overwhelmed, and completely alone. I made a decision, one that I know was the right one for that time my life. Still, it’s a decision that eats at me once a year, every single year, on the anniversary of what could have been.
” Alex is the epitome of strength, composure, and unbreakable resolve, so to see her like this, it’s jarring.
A heavy silence hangs between us, then a sob catches in my throat. I’ve felt so isolated, so broken, but hearing Alex speak her truth makes the crushing weight on my chest lift a fraction of an inch.
“Alex.” I place my hand on top of hers.
“I’m not here to tell you what to do. And I’m sure as hell not going to report back to Vik. This is your story to tell, when and if you’re ready. So, where are you heading by yourself?” The tears are flowing freely now.
“I’m going to my first OB appointment,” I confess, my voice trembling. “To set up a plan. I’m keeping the baby. I’m scared, but I’m keeping the baby.” The relief of not having to keep this secret entirely to myself, if only for the time being, helps tremendously.
“Then let’s grab a car. I’m going with you, and I’d like to see you try and stop me.” When Alex gives me a warm smile, some of the sorrow erases from her face.
“Thank you.” I let out a wet, breathless laugh and wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand.
Alexandria steps toward the curb, hailing a yellow taxi, and I look at the sky for a moment.
My stomach is still uneasy, and the future still has a massive question mark, but at least I’m not alone anymore, and for the first time in weeks, that’s enough.