4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Marketa

I lifted my head, groaning as I wiped my face and mouth. That was so not like me. But then again, nothing the last few months have been like me.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t come near me, Shawn. I don’t know what this is, and I can’t afford for you to get sick.” I closed my eyes as I leaned back against the wall and gave him a weak smile. “I’ll be okay. Go ahead and go with your mom. Thanks for checking up on me.”

I peeked an eye open, seeing the indecision on his face and waved my hand at him.

It’s not the first time I had a stomach bug, sure it won’t be the last.

After a few minutes of sitting on the floor, making sure nothing else was coming back up, I slowly stood. I rinsed my mouth out the best I could then headed back out, eyeing the treats once more.

Mentally, I shook my head. They looked good, but I didn’t need to cause any more issues.

“Do you have some Ginger Ale?” I asked the clerk who handed me a bag.

“The gentleman paid for it. Hope you feel better.”

“Thanks.” I took it, a smile on my face. Shawn didn’t have to do it, and I made a mental note to thank him for it when I could.

“I’m leaving, Marketa,” my dad hollered, pounding on the door. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him.

“Have fun,” I called back, switching from one side of the bed to the other, looking out the window. The sun was shining in all its brightness. In fact, I had watched the brilliant sunrise, thanks to once more, having an upset stomach.

“Stop being so lazy and go out and do something.”

I clenched my teeth, not wanting to say something I couldn’t take back. I loved my dad, but this was yet another reason I hated living under his roof. He thought just because I slept in one morning, I was a lazy ass who did nothing with her time. That I was someone living off the measly funds we got in the WNBA.

That was not the case.

“Open the door.” With a groan, I got out of the bed, yanking at the door to stare at him. “You look like shit.”

“Lovely pep talk, Dad. I’ll do something, don’t-” I slammed a hand over my mouth, effectively cutting him off as I ran to the bathroom, groaning as everything from yesterday came back out.

What the hell? All night I had no problem. Held things down with ease. Sure, my stomach got a little twisted this morning, and okay, a little last night, but it wasn’t like this.

I washed my mouth then my face before opening the door to the bathroom, my dad right there before me with his arms crossed.

“I’m not sure you’re okay. You don’t throw up, and this happens twice in two days?”

“Just go to work, dad. I’ll be okay. I’ll take an easy day, but still get some stuff done. There were things I was looking at earlier that might get me out of my funk and still allow me to be in basketball.”

“You’d make a great assistant,” he reminded me again.

I couldn’t help but lift my brow at him.

I did agree, I’d be great at a job like that. I didn’t have the tough exterior that was needed for a head coaching job, even with little kids, but I would be a great asset for anyone as a minor coach, no doubt.

However, just not his.

Ever.

We’d kill each other before the first practice was done.

“I didn’t say mine.”

“Didn’t think you meant yours.” But we both know he did. The thought was sweet, but he was a lot smarter than that. “Go, Dad. I’ll be okay. You can call and check up on me like I was a little girl again.”

“Okay.” He stepped over to kiss my cheek and I shook my head. Whatever this was, I didn’t need him or Shawn getting it.

Shawn.

How was I going to get his number to send a thank you?

I made my way back to my room and laid down on the bed again, listening to my dad’s car pull away.

I could go to the court, but my dad would kill me. And if this was some type of nasty stomach bug, or flu, or whatever, I didn’t need to pass it around.

But then why would it come only at certain times? I didn’t feel anything else but nausea. Speaking of , I jumped out of bed once more and ran to the bathroom. Really, what the hell was going on?

I cleaned myself up and instead of heading to my room, I walked downstairs. I wasn’t sure if another Ginger Ale would help like the last one, but I was willing to try.

I opened the fridge, grabbed a can, and then looked around for a string cheese. Not my go to breakfast, in fact, not something I really liked, but it sounded good. And hopefully it was light enough to not cause too many problems.

I popped the can and took a sip, before turning around and leaning on the counter. I needed to get stuff done, stuff I had to push off yesterday since I felt like shit. I looked around the house, wondering how much longer I could stay here when my eyes landed on the calendar.

I walked over, seeing the big red circle on the day I moved in, along with a happy face. I know we had moments, but I was glad my dad was happy about this.

Damn, hard to believe that was over a month ago. Such a crazy time in my life, with the job loss, the move, the crazy….one….night…stand…where…. my mind came to a shuddering halt on those thoughts.

No, no, no. It couldn’t be.

I ran back upstairs, ignoring the twisting motion, and looked over my menstrual app. I should have started about three weeks ago. With that, I checked my birth control pill container and realized there were days I missed.

A lot, in fact.

Holy fucking shit.

This could not be happening.

I swallowed hard then I quickly changed, threw my hair in a ponytail, and raced down to my car, hurrying to the nearest drug store. I couldn’t be pregnant, I just couldn’t. And even better yet, how the hell did I tell Shawn?

I mean, it wasn’t like I slept around, and he’s the only guy I’ve been with.

Within twenty-five minutes, I was back in my house, in the bathroom, staring at the test in my hand that had two bright, very distinctive, pink lines.

Two and pink , I repeated.

Fuck me, I was pregnant.