Page 64 of Lord of Justice

A surge of nausea hits me and I race for the bathroom, dropping my phone. I make it to the sinkat least, which is still gross. There's a very strong feeling that my body just told me, "Move over. I'm taking the wheel."

It's violent.

I haven't thrown up like this since I had the flu when I was eighteen. I hack and heave until my body decides it's finished, and not one second before.

Rinsing out the sink and splashing cold water on my face, I rest on my elbows on the counter for a moment. What the hell wasthat?I haven't eaten anything weird. I felt fine last night after Andrey fucked me again in a "judicially celebratory way," as he put it, on the kitchen counter. And then this morning, in bed, before he got up to lift weights. Other than the persistent soreness between my thighs, I'm just fine. Staightening up, I wipe my face with a towel, and I'm okay again. Rose is calling from the phone, her voice frantic.

"Oh, shit." I hurry back into the bedroom, picking my phone off the floor. "I'm sorry."

"What the hell was that?" She's anxious. We always get worried when the other twin is sick. "What the hell did you eat? Egg salad from the buffet line at Mike's All-You-Can-Eat?"

She has a basis for that accusation, since we'd been hooked on Mike's enormous buffet for months before we realized it was slowly poisoningus. Mike's got closed down by the New Jersey Department of Health a month later.

"Because holy shit," she's still talking. "I'm pretty sure you lost some intestines in that torrent of puke."

"I'm okay now." I frown. "I don't know. I was just fine yesterday and this morning. It came out of nowhere."

"Do you have a temperature?" Yeah, she's worried.

"No, sweetie, I'm fine, I promise. I'm not even bothering to lie to make you feel better," I promise. "I really am." Her face clears a little, and she laughs. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. "So, tell me the rest of the story."

"I'm inches away from driving out to suburbia and stabbing his parents," she says crossly, and I settle back on the bed again. "See, it's making me so frustrated, because he just, like,cowersto them," she complains.

He cowers all the time, I think, but I don't share that information. "Maybe you need to take some time?" I offer. "Maybe wait a little before he actually puts that ring on your finger.” Her face goes into mutinous lines. God, she's stubborn. I'm not, of course. Not at all.

"No! I want to marry him," she protests. "I justdon't want his parents to be dicks about it." We discuss the unpleasant qualities of certain potential in-laws, and decide to meet up tomorrow for yoga and a visit to our favorite used bookstore.

Two days later...

I almost vomit all over the table at lunch.

This couldn't be a worse lunch to do it, it’s all the sisters-in-law. Every one of them leans forward in concern as I turn green. Violet's the quickest. She has me out of my chair and an arm around my waist, speed walking me to the bathroom, getting me there in time to save my dignity, if not my lunch.

"What's going on?" She wipes my face like I'm a toddler, and I'm so weak that I let her. "Have you been day drinking again?"

"No, I haven't been day drinking!" I groan. "I haven't eaten anything weird. I'm not sick. No temperature, see?"

She puts her hand across my forehead like she doesn't believe me. "Have you thrown up recently?"

I shrug, "Just a couple of days ago, but that's it."

Violet's lips purse thoughtfully as she eyes me. "I know it's only been three months, but do you think you could be pregnant?"

"What are you eventhinking?Don't say that." I back up against the bathroom divider, waving my hands like that will make the words dissipate into the atmosphere.

She's having none of that. "Your cycle's always been irregular," she says with the knowledge of a sister who bought me my first menstrual supplies, and explained how everything worked - to my acute embarrassment - when I was eleven. Because even then, Mom was losing her interest in raising us.

"It's about the same," I admit. "I'm sure it's nothing."

We head back out to the table. All the women are laughing and a little giddy because no one brought the babies this time. I was kind of disappointed about that, because they all have such freaking adorable kids.

"You okay, Iris?" Ava squeezes my arm.

"Oh, yeah," I deflect. "What was this about Nantucket?" I sip water and smile as the conversation swirls around last minute warm weather trips to the family's two mansions in Nantucket. A new Book Baby outing at the library is discussed. It's amazing to me that while these women are all billionaires, they still enjoy the basic activities of any moms with little kids. Goat Yoga turned into Mommy and Me Yoga. Trips to Gstaad for skiinghave turned into trips to a warmer climate where they can dip their kiddos' toes in the water. Everyone is so happy.

It's then, surrounded by their laughter and their warmth that I realize I'm happy to be here, too.

This cursed nausea returned with a vengeance tonight. I am mortified when Andrey immediately races into the bathroom, holding my hair as I vomit helplessly. "Do I need to call one of the doctors or take you to the clinic?" he asks with a frown. He strokes my back soothingly as I gasp and heave again.