Come to think of it, other than the anxiety over telling Tris about the babies churning her stomach she hadn’t felt sick at all. She’d passed the twelve-week mark on Tuesday last week and since then she’d pretty much felt normal.
Well, except for the clumsiness. And the urge to eat anything she could get her hands on. And the need to pee every other minute. And the sudden bulge of her belly. And the…
Okay. Maybe not so normal.
“Covington.”
Her gaze snapped to Tristan’s. “Huh?”
“Do you have to go to the bathroom before we go?” he asked as though he’d been asking the question for hours.
Damn. She was doing that a lot too. Zoning out. Her mind would get on a track and like a train it seemed to have only one direction to go in.
“Covington.” He clicked his fingers in front of her face. “Where the hell do you keep going?”
“Sorry.” She forced a smile to remove the worry from his handsome face. “Yes. I need to use the toilet before we leave.”
He eyed her for a moment before offering her a hand.
Covington let him pull her to her feet. “I won’t be long.”
“Okay, I’ll wait by the front door.”
Halfway down the hall she remembered she needed to grab the file the doctor in Miami had given her. He’d included his cell number in case she had any trouble before she managed to find someone to take over her care. Made her promise to look for a new doctor as soon as she was settled. Which kind of played into Tristan’s insistence on seeing Dr. Jason Gilmore.
She grinned as she ducked into the bedroom in search of the bag she’d put the file in. Of course she’d looked through everything, including Tris’s closet and under his bed, before she remembered it was in the big suitcase she’d left in the trunk of her car.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Turning fast, she straightened from her position on the floor beside the bed, lost her balance and smacked her head on the bedside table when she fell on her butt. “Ouch.”
“Jesus, Cov.” Tris was next to her in a heartbeat. “Where did you connect?”
She didn’t need to answer. His hands roamed all over her head, stopping only when he couldn’t find any sign of damage.
“You don’t have a lump but that’s not always a good thing.” He palmed her face and studied her eyes. “Can you see properly? Vision blurred? Feel dizzy or sick?”
“Relax. I’m fine. It was just a little-bitty bump on the head not a life-threatening injury.” She pulled out of his grip and stood. “I need the suitcase that’s in the trunk of my car.”
“Oh.”
“Actually, that reminds me. Where is my car?”
“Er…”
“Tristan.” She narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”
“Well…”
“Where. Is. My. Car?”
“At the mechanic.”
“Why?”
“I asked Lance to take a look at it.”
“Why?”
