The doorbell rings. I rush over, and there’s Gina, earlier than expected, cheery as ever. Over her shoulder, Josie waves from the passenger seat, beaming.
“Let me grab my purse and coat,” I say, grateful I snagged Friday off. We’re going to do a bit of shopping before the airport. I don’t need a new bathing suit, but Josie wants a maternity one and asked if I’d tag along.
I return and lock the door, dropping the key into my purse. I notice the faint rubbery residue I’d meant to investigate, but like everything else lately, I push it aside. One more thing I don’t have the energy for.
“I am so excited,” Josie says as I settle into the back seat and buckle in. “I’m just bummed I can’t have wine or champagne.”
We laugh. Gina pats her leg. “It’s worth it. And because Rowyn and I are such good friends, we’ll have a couple of glasses for you.”
“You two are ridiculous,” Josie says with a playful eyeroll.
“Ugh,” Josie groans as we start down the street.
“You okay?” Gina asks.
“This morning sickness. Even the car moving feels like a carnival ride.”
I press a hand to my temple. “Well, I’m not pregnant, and I feel kind of the same.”
Gina’s eyes catch mine in the rearview. “You’ve been looking pale, Row.”
“I know.” I exhale slowly. “I’m exhausted. Burned out. I need this weekend like… oxygen.”
“Then let’s fuel up,” Gina says brightly. “Food, then sexy new suits.”
“Maybe shopping first,” I joke weakly. “So we’re not bloated from lunch.” My pants have been tighter lately—probably because Jaxon’s an annoyingly good cook, and I’ve been stress-eating comfort food. With the playoffs over, his guard’s dropped a little and I think mine has too.
“You make a good point,” Josie grumbles. “But I need food before I start fainting in a changing room.”
“Fair,” I say. I don’t actually plan to buy anything new unless something insists on being taken home.
“There’s a cute café downtown near the shops,” Gina suggests. “Want to try it?”
“Sure,” Josie and I say together. A short while later, Gina finds a parking spot and we head into the café. The moment the door opens and the smells hit—garlic, onion, something buttery—my stomach tilts hard. That’s what I get for running on caffeine this morning.
I swallow down the sudden burn at the back of my throat as the hostess leads us to a table. “Can I get a water, please?” My voice comes out thin.
“Of course.” She hands over menus. “Your server will be right with you.”
I look up and catch Gina watching me too closely. “I’m starting to worry you’re actually sick, Row. You’re not just pale anymore, you’re green.”
I touch my face. I do feel warm. Too warm. “I’m a little… nauseous,” I admit, breathing carefully.
“Maybe you really are pregnant,” Josie teases—lightly—until she looks at me properly. Her expression shifts. “Row…”
“I can’t be.” I stare down at the table. “I’ve been using protection. IUD…” My words drop off when the server returns with the water, and I drink it like I haven't tasted water in days.
When I lower the glass, Josie reaches across and rests her hand on my arm. “When was your last period?”
I stare at the menu as my mind scrambles, working to understand what she’s asking me. I use an IUD. I can’t be pregnant. Right.
Or maybe…wrong.
“Oh God,” I whisper, my stomach twisting harder.
“Row,” Gina says softly, setting her menu down. “Do you want to go get a test?”
“I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.” Panic rises. “I'm not pregnant. I use an IUD. That would be…impossible.”