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“I was just going to call you. Everything okay?”
Both he and Elijah look over at me, concern evident in their gazes.
“Yes. I’m fine. Sorry.” I walk to Elijah, who’s at the kitchen island. “Just weird stomach issues. Probably shouldn’t get too close in case I’m sick.”
Elijah pulls back with a face, and I can’t help but laugh.
“It’s not the plague, buddy. I’m sure it’s just a little bug. Let’s get going, huh?”
He hops off the stool and grabs his backpack from off the island. Noah puts his phone in his pocket and snags his briefcase.
“You sure you’re alright? I’m not Stalin, you know. If you need a sick day, you can take one.”
His brows are pinched together with worry, and I nod as I put my hand on my chest.
“Honest. I’m sure it’s fine. I didn’t have the best dinner last night.” I turn to Elijah. “Salt and vinegar potato chips with a side of chili. So I’m sure my gut is just protesting.”
“Eww. Did you eat them together?” The look on Elijah’s face has me cracking up, and I walk him to the front door.
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, kiddo. Let’s go.”
“Gross.” He mock shivers as I open the door. “See you later, Dad. Love you!”
Noah shouts back from the garage door with a chuckle. “Love you, too!”
* * *
Elijah is off at school, and I’m back at the house doing laundry when my stomach decides to throw a fit again. All I’ve had is toast and water at this point, and still, it’s decided everything must go like a blowout sale.
I’m completely worn out afterward and go to Noah’s guest room to lie down for a bit.
Two hours pass before I wake up, and I’m frantic when I realize what time it is. I can’t believe I slept for so long.
Running around the house in a mad dash to tidy up, my head starts to spin again, but the idea of food is so revolting, I actually gag.
“Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
I sit on the couch for a second to regain my composure, scrolling on my phone to distract myself from the continued churning of my gut.
That’s when I see an old college friend’s social post celebrating the birth of her new baby girl, and I nearly throw up again.
I haven’t gotten my period yet.
Probably looking like a damn fool, I scramble through my apps to find the calendar and double-check the date. I’m five days late.
“Oh, fuck.”
Flying off the couch to start pacing, I drop my phone onto the sofa and put my hands over my mouth.
“No, no, no. Don’t puke. You’re not pregnant. You took the emergency thing. You’re okay.”
But then I remember the effectiveness rate and the other times we fooled around. Looking at the clock, I see I still have about an hour before I need to pick up Elijah.
“Okay, I’ll just run to that convenience store near the school and get a test. No harm in checking. I’m sure it’s fine.”
But I can’t convince myself of the words even as I speak them.
Trying to collect myself as best I can, I drive to the mini-mart a block or two away from the school and go inside.
