But hiding in my kitchen, pretending to pull some food out of the oven is only delaying the inevitable.
I need to go back out there.
And I’m going to accept the job.
Because in this economy and with this much overhead and with a fucking baby on the way, I can’t afford not to.
I suck in another breath, and unfortunately, this draws the scents of my kitchen into my nose again and…
Suddenly I’m right back to queasy.
No.
More than queasy.
“Dammit,” I whisper, clamping a hand over my nose and mouth, trying desperately to block out the smell.
But the garlic and onion odor is even stronger on my fingers and I fling my hand away, slamming it into the metal table.
A cutting board clatters to the floor, scattering chopped hardboiled egg in all directions.
Egg salad.
Bile rises in the back of my throat and I gag, searching the space for any bit of relief.
Spotting a basket of oranges, I sprint over to them, banging my hip on the sharp edge of the table and sending more items dropping to the floor.
Fuck.
“Harper?” Leo calls, concern evident in his voice, the bastard.
“Just a second,” I call back, stifling another gag as I reach for a knife then hurriedly cut an orange in half and all but shove it up my nose.
Fresh citrus.
Thank God.
But that relief lasts for only a moment.
Because then I can smell the onion again, the garlic, the eggs.
Bile does more than burn the back of my throat, and I slam the orange down, sprint for the bathroom…and barely make it in time to lose my cookies in the toilet.
A-fucking-gain.
But I can’t stop retching.
“Shit,” I hear mid-puke, a hand settling lightly on my back for a moment before it lifts away and then the sink turns on as Leo murmurs, “Let me get you a cool paper…”
He trails off but I’m too busy losing my breakfast—and maybe last night’s dinner to immediately understand why.
Then I hear him say, “What the fuck?”
And I know, without a doubt, that I’m an idiot.
Because every single—positive—pregnancy test is sitting on the counter next to the sink.
“How the fuck could this happen?” he snaps, pacing across the kitchen and back again.
