He laughs. “Just that it surprises me, just like you do every single day.”
“Sure.”
His smile never fades as he backs up. “I made breakfast.”
So, he does cook.
“Oh.” I push off the door. “What did you make?”
“Bacon and eggs and—”
I sprint into the bathroom.
On the second lurch, I feel Mark behind me, holding my hair—like he does a lot these days.
“Shit, Syd. Had I known this was a thing sooner, I could have . . . I don’t know. I’d have found a way to help.”
“It’s okay. You’re helping now.”
“Do you want me to make you something else?”
“Maybe just some ice water with lemon and a lime.”
“All right,” he says but keeps a hold of my hair. “I don’t really want to leave you, though.”
“You’ll have to at some point.”
I push away from the toilet and sit back against the wall. “All better.”
Mark laughs and then slaps a hand over his mouth.
I can’t help it—I laugh too.
“All bettermight not be the right words to use, but I’m not throwing up for now, if that’s what you are wondering.”
“How do you stay so happy when you’re going through this?”
I shrug.
“I don’t know. I mean, I can still eat. Not everything makes me sick, and after I talked to the doctor about it, I realized some women go through way worse. Plus, I’m down to twice a day now. Soon enough, it won’t happen at all.”
“I’m looking forward to that day.”
“You and me both.”
“All right, I’ll get you some water.”
“Thank you.”
Mark leaves, and I stand slowly, taking in my appearance in the mirror. Minus the upchuck greeting, I still look like the same old me. I turn to the side. I look more bloated than pregnant. One day, there will be a little bump there.
I’m looking forward to it. For now, it’s time to clean myself up, get dressed, and get ready for the day.
A glass of water is sitting on my nightstand when I exit the bathroom.
I grab it as I head down to the kitchen. Even though I won’t be eating the breakfast he made today, I need to remember to thank him for the thought.
“How are you feeling?” he asks as soon as I reach the bottom step.
