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It smelled of fresh baked cookies, expensive candles and my mom’s perfume, a cocktail of scents that normally made my whole body relax and pretty much all of my troubles melt away. Normally, I wasn’t pregnant, so even in my sleep deprived state, I almost threw up.
Almost.
“Are you hungry, sweetie?” Mom asked. “I can make you something, whatever you want.”
“Sleep,” I murmured, fighting against my unpredictable stomach.
Mom walked me all the way back to my room where I slumped onto the bed without thinking.
I even let her pull my shoes off for me. She fussed with the blankets until I was all the way under them.
Her hand brushed the hair from my face as I lapsed between sleepiness and wakefulness.
“You’re working too hard at that school,” she pouted. “Or partying too hard,” she sounded like she was frowning, but my lids were too heavy to see if I was correct.
I smiled sleepily. “I’m fine.”
“I have to agree with my husband... No woman is fine when she says she’s fine.”
“Iwillbe fine,” I amended, half asleep.
“I know, sweetie.” Mom kissed my head. . “Love you endlessly.”
“Love you,” I mumbled.
Then my mom tucked me in for the last time. Though neither of us knew it then.
I was at the club.
With Colby.
Trying not to vomit.
Half of that was because of the pregnancy, half of it was because of my nerves. I’d spent the entire morning under the watchful eye of my mother, and had somehow managed to convince her that I was indeed okay and not carrying an illegitimate biker’s child. It was a good thing she had Declan’s party to organize along with a restaurant to run.
I had a biker who needed to be told I was in love with him and carrying his illegitimate child. I was nervous. Very fucking nervous. I’d spent two hours deciding what to wear for this meeting. It didn’t help that three quarters of my suitcase was lingerie, thanks to Sariah. And then there were the five pairs of jeans I’d inexplicably packed.
Luckily, I kept a well-stocked closet at Mom’s place. Mom and I had done a lot of shopping. Unfortunately, we had not been shopping for this particular scenario.
I decided on a long, silk skirt in a deep shade of red. Knee-high leather, heeled boots in a deeper shade of red. My sweater was tight and almost black but with a tinge of maroon. My hair was dead straight, a dark curtain against my pale skin. Makeup hid the dark circles, and I tried to offset my general paleness with a soft blush and a pink gloss.
Yes, I looked good, or I did when I left Mom and Swiss’s house for the club. I stopped three times to vomit, so my lip gloss was ruined by that point. My hair disheveled. My face likely a disturbing shade of green.
Then there were the sweaty palms and the general air of panic that settled over me as I set my booted foot inside.
“Violet!” Colby exclaimed, getting up from the bar and rushing over to give me a hug. It was so tight he lifted me off the floor.
I did my best to steady myself and not vomit all over him when he placed me down.
“College is making you too skinny,” he frowned. “We need to get you a cheeseburger.”
“Why does everybody keep saying that?” I whined, pouting.
“Because it’s fuckin’ true,” he grunted, dragging me from the door to where he’d been situated at the bar.
I peered around the room, trying to be subtle about it. There was no one else in the vicinity. Music played quietly over the speakers.
“Sit,” Colby ordered.
