21. Clara

21

CLARA

S ix weeks. How had six weeks passed in what felt like a blink? Christmas with Mom took up almost a whole week as Summit gave us time off for our families. We’d opened presents together, laughed and talked and I’d caught her up on everything happening at work. She was more than proud of me for taking on a major project so early in my career. I’d wanted to tell her how much it weighed on me, the pressure of success, but that was for me to carry. She’d asked about Alexander, and I held back the truth of our relationship…such as it was. If she suspected there was more, she kept quiet.

“Ready?” Ethan straightened his tie, his hands sure and quiet as we made our way into the restaurant and over to the table where Harrington waited with Alexander and Liam.

My smile remained firmly in place. “I’m always ready.”

His quick glance in my direction sent heat spiraling through me. We hadn’t been together since the movie theater, and that look fueled a need to feel him inside me again. Later. That was the promise I gave myself every time we were sidelined by Harrington’s project. I couldn’t be mad about the situation. Work was supposed to come first.

I focused on Alexander, then Liam, and finally Harrington. They were calm, relaxed, and fully invested in my upcoming presentation. I’d worked hard to get every detail correct and perfected. Mom listened to my speech four times over the last two weeks, until I had it exactly right. “Thank you all for coming.” Like they had any choice, but still, I opted for a polite approach. I opened the laptop I’d brought and placed it in the center of the table as I launched into the virtual walk-through.

Their faces fell away. The walk-through took up every molecule of my concentration. I’d repeated the report often enough that I had it committed to memory, but I made sure I kept the pace and tempo on point to draw Harrington into the reality of his design.

I had an hour. Plenty of time to take things slow and leave room for questions at the end. At the forty-five-minute mark, a bolt of nausea rippled through me. I swallowed it down without missing a beat. “As you’ll see here, the office buildings will have the option to open up into conference spaces should the need arise. This allows Mr. Harrington to optimize space for multiple practices but have the ability to bring in larger numbers for work conferences and seminars. Silverbrook is enough of a tourist attraction to warrant the extra attention.” Another surge of nausea clamped down. I had a harder time ignoring this one and paused, turning my back on the table and inhaling slowly through my nose.

“We’ve gauged interest in the animal shelter angle as well.” Alexander stepped in after a beat of silence. “The community is fully supportive and I dare say even excited to have the shelter in place. It’s been asked several times if we would consider a soup kitchen or a similar endeavor for those in need on the outskirts of the area.”

“Done.” Harrington slapped a palm to the table. “This is magnificent. High class but not ostentatious. Your ability to bring it all together is superb.”

His praise helped rid me of the last bit of nausea. I sank into my chair and settled my hands in my lap. “Thank you. You made it easy, but I’m grateful you like the plan.”

“Well, now that we have business out of the way, does anyone have special plans for Valentine’s Day?” Harrington leaned forward, his eyes lighting up.

Alexander’s gaze slid over to me.

A waiter wheeling a silver cart approached our table. He rattled off the dishes and whipped the platters onto the table with a flourish.

The smell hit with the force of a hammer blow to my stomach. “Excuse me.” I barely managed to get the words out through the bile rising in the back of my throat. It filled my mouth, forcing me to cover it with one hand on my way to the bathroom.

Liam called my name, but I didn’t dare slow down. The door banged open under my hand, slammed into the wall, and closed.

My stomach writhed against the astringent smell of cleaner, and I knew there was no holding back. I turned on the cold water and vomited into the sink, wave after wave of nausea sending everything up and out until nothing remained but dry heaves. Those stopped after a while. My entire body shook with exhaustion. I gripped the sides of the sink with both hands and let my head hang until my vision stopped spinning. Then and only then did I risk raising my chin to the mirror. Pale skin shone almost translucent beneath my makeup. My eyes were bloodshot, my mascara wrecked by the tears I’d shed from the overwhelming urges to puke.

“Clara?” Ethan’s voice sounded through the door.

I shoved both hands into the cold water and splashed it onto my face. My makeup was already ruined, and I needed the shock to snap me out of the stupor that had muddled my brain.

Soft male voices continued outside the door. I ignored them, all three of them, and concentrated on making myself as presentable as possible. Their worried tones gave me courage. I had to reassure them I was fine, even when I knew for damned sure that something was different. I’d noticed it last week, a kind of heaviness that settled around me.

The nausea pretty much confirmed my thoughts, but I hesitated to say anything to Ethan and the others until I knew for sure. They were amazing men, but their concern for me seemed to stop the minute I had an actual complaint.

I wiped my face, scrubbed a paper towel over my teeth, rinsed and spit until all traces of bile vanished, and smoothed my hair back into a loose bun. Time to face them. I imagined putting on armor that would help me hide my suspicions and get them to go back to work without trying to convince me to see a doctor.

Three concerned men greeted me as soon as the door opened. They’d blocked off the whole damned space with their bodies, preventing anyone else from coming in. One woman walked behind them, her eyebrows high enough to disappear into her hairline.

“What’s wrong?” Alexander’s controlled tone shook me to my core.

I made a sour face. “Must have been the deli meat on my sandwich last night.” Please believe me. I silently wished, crossed my fingers, and prayed. I did not need them questioning me.

“Deli meat?” Ethan’s nose wrinkled. “It sounded like you vomited up your whole stomach.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. I’ve had food poisoning before, so I know what it feels like.” I tried a smile, but it felt forced and changed into a grimace. “I still don’t feel well.” I rubbed a hand over my stomach then let it fall to my side. “We should go back to Harrington.” I dipped my head toward the table they’d abandoned.

Liam crossed his arms and shook his head. “Do you need me to take you home?”

“No.” A deep breath in and my stomach settled. “I’ll be fine.” Another breath and I made my way between Ethan and Liam. “Let’s finish our meeting.”

“Clara.” A warning rang in Alexander’s stance and the low-level glare he locked onto me.

“I’m fine.” Damn it. I refused to fall apart in front of them, and especially in front of Harrington. “I’ll go home once this is over.” With my shoulders locked in place, I marched over to the table and sat.

Liam, Alexander, and Ethan followed my example, as I knew they would. None of them wanted to risk this project, and an upset stomach was nothing to worry about. I asked the waiter for a glass of water with lemon and settled gingerly onto the seat.

“Are you okay?” Concern laced Harrington’s voice and his expression tightened. “Should we stop for the day?”

“No.” I drove the single word out with conviction and picked up the glass the waiter rushed over. A small sip of lemon water helped soothe the slight edge of nausea. “Do you have any questions about the design? The layout is pretty basic. We considered adding a few nuances to the angles of the stairwells and hiding the elevators in alcoves, but those are details we can change without compromising the overall effect.” Unless he decided he wanted elevators in completely different areas, that would require a redesign. I tugged the hem of my skirt over my knees and cursed the tremble that sent another bubble of nausea rippling through my stomach. I’d hold it together if it was the last thing I ever accomplished. This meeting was too important.

Harrington watched me over the rim of his glass. The sushi was gone. Either he’d eaten it or had it taken away while I puked my guts up. “I’d like to take another look at the office space. Your idea for conferences brought up another point I’d like to discuss. And we should talk about security.” He directed his attention to Ethan, and the two of them delved into a conversation about security cameras, tech, and what equipment he would need.

I allowed my mind to wander until he needed me to answer another question. When Harrington stood and congratulated us all on a job well done, I gathered my things and made my way to the door.

Ethan caught up with me before I made it halfway across the room. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“I’m fine, Ethan.” I had to get rid of him without hurting his feelings or making him suspicious. “I’m going home to lay down.”

“Someone should be with you. Food poisoning can be dangerous. What if you get worse?” He opened the door for me and cleared a path to my car, using his body as a shield against the surge of shoppers and couples headed out for romantic dinners. There would be none of that for me today. I might have slept with them, but I had no claim to candlelit dinners and romantic notions of forever.

I slid into my car. “I’ll call if anything changes. But seriously, I’ll be fine.”

Something in my voice or how I looked at him must have convinced him because he moved away from the car. “I’ll call later to check on you.”

“Okay.” It was the best I could do. Whether I answered the phone or not…well, I’d see how I felt at the time. I gave him a cheerful wave and pulled away from the curb. He stood on the sidewalk and watched me leave.

I drove until I reached a part of town where no one knew me, my job, or my bosses, then pulled into a pharmacy with a sign that promised speedy checkout and delivery with a smile. I could use a smile today considering the news I suspected I was about to discover.

My steps were heavy as I crossed the parking lot and entered the building. It smelled old but clean, and a friendly white-haired man greeted me from behind a brown counter where an old cash register dinged and popped open. The man handed a woman some change and called out a goodbye when she walked away. His attention spun to me. “Is there anything I can help you find?”

Might as well get it over with as quickly as possible. “Do you have any pregnancy tests?”

His bushy white brows furrowed. “Sure do. Aisle three.”

I turned and found the aisle in question, grabbed the most expensive test on the shelf, and rushed it to the counter before anyone else came through the door. He rang up my purchase while talking about the recent weather, how nice it was for Valentine’s Day, and how his wife had reminded him to bring home a bouquet of flowers. “Know where I can find some nice roses? I stopped by my usual shop, but she was already sold out.”

“Check on the corner of Brady and Ninth. The shop there has hothouse roses year around.” I took my bag and ran out the door amid his thanks.

Every breath was a battle through the rest of the drive home, up the sidewalk, and into the house. I rushed to the bathroom and dropped onto the edge of the bathtub to read the directions. I went through them three times just to be sure, then did my business and set the stick on the sink. Ten minutes. It said it was best to use first thing in the morning when the hormones were the strongest, but there was no way in hell I could wait another eighteen hours. Ten minutes felt like an eternity. Each second ticked down on my phone. My feet jiggled back and forth across the linoleum, my shoes clacking a rapid beat. When I couldn’t stand sitting, I stood and paced back and forth across the bathroom. It was too small for a good pace, so I headed into the hall and marched up and down, up and down. A photo of me and Mom the previous Christmas at the town festival during the tree lighting ceremony stopped me in my tracks.

I straightened it and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in and blowing it out slowly. Fuck this. Mom would not hide from reality. She would face it the same way she faced everything, even cancer. I ran back to the bathroom and grabbed the stick off the sink. Tears blurred my eyes. I dashed them aside, but they filled again, streams coming too fast to wipe away. I slid down the wall and wrapped my arms around my knees, bawling into my legs as I clutched the stick.