49
I wake in Brooks’ bed. It takes a second for the memories of last night to come flooding back.
Why do I let myself get that drunk? At least this time, my hair was up in a bun, so I couldn’t get vomit in it.
The last time I woke up in this state in Brooks’ bed, he ended the day by dipping his hand into my pants and making me orgasm hard and fast. I doubt that’ll happen today.
He was so angry last night, and I don’t blame him.
I should have taken the mature option and moved away from that guy.
I was just worked up and drunk, so drunk.
I struggle to lift my thumping head from the pillow.
I feel Brooks’ spot on the bed, but he’s not there.
A panic begins rising inside me. What if he’s left me?
He could have put me to bed and gone back to be with Harper.
I bet she would never embarrass him like that in front of everyone.
But to my relief, I finally spot him sitting at the kitchen island, hunched over a mug of coffee.
“Brooks,” I say softly. He doesn’t react. I clear my throat and try again. “Brooks?”
“I heard you,” his raspy voice grunts.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, trying to keep the tears from falling.
He looks at me and sighs, standing from his seat and making his way over to the bed.
He sits on the edge, not facing me. I reach out and touch his back, expecting him to pull away like he did last night, but he doesn’t.
With my hand on his body, I can breathe again.
“I was drunk, and the way you were with Harper. It hurt,” I say, trying to defend my actions, but I know if the shoe were on the other foot, I would be inconsolable.
“So, you chose to hurt me back?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I reply, pulling myself to sit up in the bed. “You forgot about me. I was trying to get your attention to remind you that I was there.” Brooks turns to help adjust the pillows around me.
“I didn’t forget you.” He cups my face in his hand. “And you need to stop drinking like that. I was worried about you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I won’t be drinking that much ever again.
I still feel so sick.” I put a hand on my stomach as if that would help make it settle.
Brooks gets up from the bed and walks into the kitchen to get a glass of water.
He comes back, passing me the glass, but doesn’t sit down.
I expect him to say something, but all he does is stand there looking at me, his eyes unreadable.
“I’m so sorry, Brooks. Please get into bed. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just. I don’t know. You’re too good for me, and when I see you with her, I just get so jealous.” The tears start to fall from my eyes, and the water sloshes in my shaking hands.
“Let’s not talk about this anymore. I’m tired,” he says. I move over to give him room to climb in beside me, but he just looks at me. “Why don’t you head back over to your apartment?”
“You want me to leave?” I ask, my words quivering.
I thought he was going to get into bed, let me spoon him and tell him that I’m sorry and that I’ll never do anything like that again.
Then he’d turn around, forgiving me as he pushed his hand into my panties.
He’d ask me to tell him that I loved him, then make me scream his name as I came around his fingers, letting him know that I am his and that no one could ever make me feel the way he does.
“I need some space. I just need to crash for a bit,” he replies with a sigh. I can see the dark circles under his eyes. I put those there. My heart sinks as the reality sets in. He’s tired, and not just from last night.
“Brooks?” I’m too scared to leave, desperate not to move from this spot. What if I give him space and he realises he wants to be with someone low-maintenance? Someone like Harper? The second my foot hits the ground, I’m going to lose him.
“It’s fine, we’re fine. Just, please, give me some space.” He covers his eyes with his hand and lets out a defeated, deep sigh.
I reluctantly slide off the bed, grab my shoes from the floor and begin to walk towards the door. “I love you, Brooks,” I say quietly, my hand on the door handle, hoping he changes his mind and tells me to come back to bed.
“I know. I’ll see you later.”
I open the door to my apartment slowly, trying not to wake Luna and Gaia, but after entering, I see them sitting on the couch.
Luna is lying down with a heat bag on her tummy and her feet in Gaia’s lap.
They’re watching some bake-off reality TV show.
I’m not in the mood to talk, but Luna looks pale.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one who drank too much last night.
“Are you ok?” I ask her.
Luna groans. “I feel like shit. Worse than usual."
“Usual?”
“Just one of the delightful perks of being a woman. But at least I have this.” She pats the heat bag affectionately.
I remember the day our periods first synced. We thought it was the final event that solidified our best friendship. For years, we’ve sat together, eating chocolate with our matching heat bags, and now the fact that Luna has hers before mine only proves how far we are from what we were.
“If yours didn’t come early, we could have suffered together.” I grimace in sympathy. “I’m just going to jump in the shower.”
I walk straight into the bathroom and close the door.
The image of Brooks’ face when he asked me to leave plays through my mind.
He doesn’t want me anymore. The vomit begins to rise in my throat, and I dart to the toilet, making it just in time as burning liquid spills out of my mouth.
His face cuts through my retching, and I’m reminded of all the pain I’ve caused him.
My stomach empties into the toilet, and I’m left dry heaving into the bowl as the door bursts open, and Luna comes rushing in.
“Abs, are you ok?” she asks, crouching down beside me and rubbing my back.
“I had too much to drink last night,” I reply, not wanting to tell her that Brooks kicked me out of his apartment. If I can get him to forgive me, everything can go back to normal, and no one will ever have to know how I almost screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me.
“Hey, Abs. Something you said out there. My period isn’t early.
It was actually a few days late…” Her words spread panic through my body.
She’s right. I was supposed to have my period last week.
Luna’s not early. I’m late. I sit down on the floor in disbelief.
Surely the vomiting is from the alcohol.
I mean, I drank so much. But I can’t be pregnant.
We used a condom every time. I think back to all the times Brooks and I have made love over the past couple of months, giving myself a mental tick whenever the memory of the condom packet being ripped pops into my mind.
The time in his car after he picked me up from work, we couldn’t wait until we got home, nope, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom, tick.
The time we bought the body syrup from the sex shop, we were so sticky.
No, I remember putting the condom on with my mouth, tick.
The time he was taking a shower before work, and I snuck in to surprise him, nope, he reached out and grabbed one out of the drawer before he pushed me up against the wall, tick.
Shower, wait, we did it in a bath. The spa bath.
The romantic bed and breakfast. I was trying to be sexy, we’d had champagne.
I climbed on top, and he put himself inside me, with no condom.
“Shit.”
“I’ll go to the pharmacy. Do you want me to ask Gaia to leave?” she asks, pulling me up from the floor.
“No, it’s fine. You can tell her. But don’t tell anyone else, please. Please don’t tell Sam.”
“Of course.” She nods her head. “Take those clothes off. Have a hot shower, and I’ll be back with a test.” She rubs my shoulder gently before leaving the bathroom.
I can’t believe this is happening. How could we be so stupid?