22. Billie

CHAPTER 22

BILLIE

T he thumping on the door gets more insistent, and I groan. “I’m coming!” I yell. “Hang on!”

Fortunately for my head, the banging stops. I force myself to get up off the bathroom floor, my stomach lurching. I take a deep breath, desperately trying not to throw up again.

I’ve been sick for a few days now, ever since I got back from meeting with Dr. Matthews and her team. I’m blaming all this on the lunch they took me out to. It’s the only time I’ve been out of the house recently, and all it takes is one weird bit of seafood to put you out of action for a while.

It’s annoying, though, because I’m supposed to be meeting with Ella today. Right now, in fact; she’ll be the one at the door.

I should have told her not to bother coming today, feeling like this, but if I’m honest I kind of forgot she was coming.

She rings the doorbell again just as I’m approaching the door. Trying to ignore the rush of nausea that floods through my stomach, I yell, “Oh my God, calm down! I’m coming!”

Fumbling with the latch, I finally swing the door open to let Ella in, and she sweeps me into a great big hug, squeezing me so tight that everything seems better already.

“Did you dye your hair again?” I ask as she releases me. It’s only a week or so since I last saw her, but her previously mid-blond bob has turned platinum. It suits her. It makes her blue eyes sparkle.

“I was bored,” she says with a shrug, then looks me up and down. “And you look terrible.”

“Thanks a bunch,” I scoff.

“Sorry, hon. But you do. You’re sick, aren’t you?”

I grimace. “It’s just a stomach bug, I’m pretty sure.”

“Should I not come in?”

“No, please. I’m okay really, and I don’t think it’s contagious. It’s great to see you. I’ve been stuck in on my own for days.”

“Sweetie, why didn’t you say? I live literally just down the road. You can just come over anytime you want. You don’t even have to ask.”

“I know,” I say. “I just?—”

“You just nothing,” she says firmly, inviting herself in. “Don’t you dare ever feel like you’re not welcome.”

“Okay,” I sigh, knowing I’m defeated as I follow her through to the living room.

“Let me make some coffee,” she says, gesturing for me to take a seat.

“Oh, no, let me. Stop mothering me.”

And that’s when my stomach betrays me again, making me double over as I attempt to keep it together.

Ella points firmly at the sofa. “Absolutely not.”

Defeated, I sink onto the sofa and don’t bother protesting as she heads into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two mugs of coffee. Mine’s full of cream and sugar, just the way I like it.

“Okay, tell me everything,” Ella says, handing me my mug and sitting next to me. “Tell me all about these scientists. Have they bought all your photos already?”

I chuckle. “Not all of them. But a few. Enough. And I’ve been in some really interesting talks with people. Do you remember Dr. Matthews?”

“She’s the one who likes birds?” guesses Ella, and I grin.

She doesn’t really know that much about my work, but I love her for trying. She always makes me feel so listened to.

I tell her all about the red-footed boobies, and how Dr. Matthews and her team are inviting me along on their next tour, which is such a privilege I can’t even begin to believe it. They want my photos! They want to teach me all about their work! It’s unbelievably exciting to me.

And then nausea rises up my throat, and I can’t keep it down any longer.

I excuse myself to dash to the bathroom, where I promptly throw up.

“Are you all right, honey?” Ella calls from the living room.

“Yeah,” I lie, swallowing thickly, my eyes streaming. “I just keep throwing up. Stupid bug.”

I hear Ella’s footsteps approaching, and I know then that I’m not going to keep denying just how bad I feel. It’s not like she hasn’t seen right through it already.

Ella chuckles. “You know, if you hadn’t just been trapped on a desert island for weeks, I might have assumed you were pregnant.”

All the blood drains from my face as her words sink in. It’s a stupid joke. Unless…

It was one night. It was just one stupid night with Jensen, and I’m on birth control. Things like this aren’t supposed to happen.

The symptoms I’ve been having would kind of make sense, though.

My hands start to shake.

“Billie? Are you all right?” Ella calls again, but my head is rushing too much to be able to answer. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” I say weakly.

At once, Ella opens the door. She rushes over to me and crouches down beside me on the floor, stroking my hair. “Sweetheart, what’s going on?”

“It wasn’t a desert island,” I say softly, closing my eyes and seeing the luscious green of Mostaza in my imagination. “I had company, remember?”

“What?” asks Ella, but then her face drains of all color as she puts two and two together. “No way. Prince Jensen and you… You and him…”

“Well, thanks a lot,” I scoff, trying to wiggle out of the conversation. “Do you think I’m not good enough for him or something?”

She shakes her head apologetically. “Oh, God, no. I didn’t mean it like that. He’d be lucky to have you. But you looked so angry in the photos. You told me he was a jerk! How did this happen?”

“It was just one stupid night,” I groan. “One really stupid, really, really good night.”

“Uh-huh,” hums Ella, raising both eyebrows playfully.

I roll my eyes and sit back on my heels. “It wasn’t like that at all. I didn’t even know who he was. He lied to me. He pretended he was just some guy from some foreign country, and I guess I let myself get swept up in it all. It was my own stupid fault for being so out of touch. It was stupid — and I guess I must have forgotten to take the pill that morning or something… I don’t know.”

“That’s not how birth control works, sweetie,” says Ella gently, squeezing my shoulder.

“I know,” I whisper. “But I just can’t think of any other explanation.”

“Well, we don’t know yet for sure,” coos Ella in her very best situation-defusing voice.

But it’s too late because I’ve already started spiraling. “What am I going to tell my mom?” I choke, trying not to burst into tears.

A blind panic starts gnawing away inside my chest. I can’t breathe anymore. My rib cage is tight like it’s being squeezed. My throat is closing up like a hand is around it. My heart pounds. My palms sweat. I think I’m going to vomit again.

Ella keeps stroking my shoulders, massaging them to stop me having a breakdown. “Hey, look at me. Deep breaths. We don’t know anything for certain yet, so we’ll just stay calm until we do, okay?”

I nod, looking into her eyes to anchor myself back to reality.

“Let’s get some facts before we panic,” she says. “Most likely, this is a weird blip, and you can wait until you’re married to have kids, just like you always wanted. And if not?—”

“If not then I’m gonna be a single mother to a prince’s child,” I sob, crumpling into her arms.

She holds me for a while, then says, “Okay, let’s get this settled. Let me get my bag.”

I sit up and squint in confusion as Ella leaves the room, and then a few seconds later she reappears with a pregnancy test. “Do you just carry those things around with you?” I ask, my mouth dropping open in disbelief.

She shrugs. “You never know what you’ll need to be prepared for.”

“I guess,” I frown, “But pregnancy tests aren’t one of those things that you put in your emergency bag usually, you know? You don’t exactly say to yourself, okay, I’m going to pack ibuprofen, some pads, and a pregnancy test just in case!”

“Well, if you don’t want it…”

“I didn’t say that.”

I hold out my hand, and Ella places the cardboard box on my palm. It’s lighter than I was expecting it to be. I guess it’s only a tiny piece of plastic, really. Nothing much to it at all.

Amazing that it has the power to change someone’s life forever.

Ella slips out of the bathroom and lets me pee on the stick in peace.

My body suddenly feels like it’s not my own. All this could be happening to somebody else instead of me and I wouldn’t even notice the difference. One part of me feels light and panicky. But the rest of me is floating away, detaching from the reality that seems to be taking root inside me.

I can’t stay here like this. Instead, I walk back out into the living room where Ella is waiting, and we sit in silence as the seconds tick past, staring at the stick on the table.

Eventually, Ella says, “That’s two minutes.”

It’s not really a question, but I understand what she’s asking anyway, so I nod slowly, looking away as she reaches forward to pick up the stick. She looks at it and takes a sharp breath, and before she even utters a word, I know exactly what she’s going to say.

“Oh my God, Billie. You’re pregnant.”