12. Leah

CHAPTER 12

LEAH

E ven before opening my eyes, I feel sick.

Really sick.

The nausea rises in my chest, and I roll over on my side, groaning. My alarm clock blares, and I fumble for it, desperate to make the grating noise stop.

I have to get dressed. Have to get to work. And yet I feel like I can't do any of that. All I want to do is lay in bed and sleep.

But I can't. I know it's just one day, but I don't trust Jack to run GourmetGlobal for even an hour without me. He's already doing everything he can to push me out without directly firing me.

Even though I feel like shit, I trudge to the bathroom. Maybe a shower will make me feel better.

I don't make it to the shower, though. A few seconds later and I'm vomiting into the toilet.

After a few good heaves, I stand up and look at myself in the mirror. I look exhausted, with heavy bags under my eyes and my hair all over the place.

And I feel like I could use about five more hours of sleep.

There's no way around it. I'll have to call in sick to work. Obviously, I have a flu or something.

Disappointed, I trudge back to my room and unhook my phone from its charger, then call GourmetGlobal's front desk.

"GourmetGlobal," the new receptionist — one that Jack picked out — answers.

"Hi, Michelle. It's Leah. I have the flu and won't make it in today. Will you let Jack know?"

She murmurs in response, and I can hear her keyboards clicking as she multitasks. "Gotcha. We'll see you tomorrow, Leah."

"What's with Leah?" a familiar voice asks on Michelle's end.

My stomach sinks. Nice. I happened to call at the exact moment that Jack is walking past the front desk.

"She's sick," Michelle tells him. "She's out today."

He scoffs. "Did she drink too much again?"

I grit my teeth. Seriously? No, I didn't drink too much! I haven't even had a drink since that night when Taylor and I saw him at the bar.

Except I was also nauseous then.

Which is weird. I don't drink much, but I should be able to hold down a shot or two.

"Tell him I'll be in soon," I say through my still-gritted teeth. "Tomorrow at the latest."

I hang up, feeling a mix of anger and embarrassment. He's been trying to paint me as an unreliable employee for weeks now, and it's starting to work. But I haven't touched a drop of alcohol since that night.

Maybe I should go see a doctor. Right now, I feel like I can't even sit in a waiting room, so the first stop is the drugstore.

Grabbing my purse, I head out of my apartment and down the street to the nearest pharmacy. As I wander the aisles, I can't help but feel like something is off. My body feels different, but in a way that I can't put my finger on.

I pick up a box of flu medicine and make my way to the counter, swaying slightly. The cashier gives me a concerned look as I fumble with my wallet, struggling to find the right card.

"Are you okay?" she asks, handing me my bag of medicine.

"I'm fine," I say, trying to sound convincing. But I'm not fine. I'm far from it.

As I make my way out the door, I pass the travel toiletries lined up along the wall. Toothbrushes. Mouthwash. Tampons.

Tampons.

I should pick up some tampons, I realize. My period is due…

I freeze in my tracks, the automatic doors wide open.

My period was due weeks ago.

And it's never late.

A cold fear washes over me.

"Excuse me," a woman says in annoyance behind me.

Mumbling something close to an apology, I step to the side. Why would my period be late? Is it because of stress? Or some sort of hormonal imbalance?

Even as I ask myself the questions, I know the truth.

Jack and I used a condom, but I'm not on birth control. If the condom had failed, isn't it logical that we might not have noticed?

I walk back into the store, feeling like I'm half out of my body. At the family planning aisle, I stare at the rows of pregnancy tests.

My mind is racing. I can't be pregnant. What will Jack say? Will he think I'm trying to trap him?

I grab a test and rush to the counter, my heart pounding in my chest. The cashier gives me a sympathetic smile and rings me up.

As I walk back to my apartment, I try to calm myself down. It's probably nothing. I'm just overthinking things, and my period is late and I'm nauseous and tired because I'm stressed. But the more I try to reassure myself, the more my anxiety grows.

Finally, I make it home and rush to the bathroom. My hands shaking, I follow the instructions on the box, then put the test on the counter to wait three minutes.

My eyes find my reflection in the mirror.

I look pale and sickly, with dark circles under my eyes. I feel like I'm in a daze, barely able to process my thoughts.

As the three minutes tick by, I take deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself down. But it's no use. The seconds feel like an eternity.

Finally, the timer goes off. I take a deep breath and steel myself before looking at the test.

Positive.

I wait for my heart to drop into my stomach, but it doesn't. I'm pregnant.

And I'm not crying. I'm not terrified.

I'm excited.

A smile spreads across my face. I am going to be a mother. A small life is growing inside of me, and I can't help but feel grateful. The weight of the world lifts off my shoulders as the happiness spills over me. I run my hand over my belly, and tears prick my eyes.

But there's Jack, the other part of this equation. The man is a complete asshole — not the person I would have picked to be the father of my child at all.

So what will I do?

I've always wanted to be a mother, and even though this isn't how I imagined it coming to fruition, I'm happy. I just need to figure out Jack.

Then again, this isn't just up to me. It's his kid too, and if he wants to be involved, then he will be.

I suck in a deep breath, anxiety washing over me. I don't want to tell him about this, and at the same time, I'm harboring this fantasy that he'll be thrilled when he hears the news. That he'll take me in his arms and tell me that he wants to be with me and the baby, that he wants to be a family.

But that's not him. The man is cold and might not even have a heart. I need to be realistic.

My front doorbell rings, making me jump. Whatever choice I make when it comes to Jack will have to wait.