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My stomach dances with nerves. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“That’ll make everything so…real.” I grimace. “What if it’s positive?”
“What if it is?”
“What will I do?”
“I don’t know…what will you do?”
“Autumn, you sound like a damn parrot. Stop.” I stride toward the window and stare outside, wondering what Eli is doing for the holiday. Is he with his family? Is his brother still hanging around? Or is it another lonely Thanksgiving at the Bennett house? The last few Thanksgivings he’s always come here. He’d bring his mom too.
We were like one big happy family.
“You two aren’t together,” Autumn reminds me.
I actually laugh. “Oh, I know.”
“Will he want to get back together if you’re pregnant? I’m sure he will.”
“I am too.” I can only imagine what he’ll think, what he’ll want.
“But what about you? What will you want?”
I envision myself pregnant, waddling around. Eli wanting to take care of me. Rubbing my belly. Talking to the baby. Proud as hell and praying for a baby boy he can toss a football to.
I’d rather have a girl. He’d go into pure protective mode and it would be the most adorable thing ever.
Oops. I think I’m getting ahead of myself.
“I don’t want to think about any of that until I know what’s going on,” I say, thinking that is the most mature response I can come up with. “But I can’t worry about that now. Let’s go downstairs and eat.”
My stomach makes a noise of protest at me saying “eat.”
Figures.
“Are you really going to be able to eat?” Autumn sounds doubtful.
I roll my eyes as we exit my bedroom. “I’m fine. Really. Don’t worry about me.”
We head downstairs, and I immediately regret my decision to wear the sweater. It’s so hot down here, it’s practically sweltering.
I follow Autumn into our dining room, the mingled scents of all the food hitting me at full force.
Oh God, that smells disgusting.
I rest a hand on my stomach, hating how it pitches and roils like I’m a boat in the middle of the ocean. I gaze at everyone sitting around the table. All of the people I love and care about, my family.
“Ava.” Mom slowly stands, her brows knit together. “Are you okay?”
Autumn turns to me and I blindly reach out, grabbing at her arm.
I miss and sink to the floor.
Into nothingness.
I crack my eyes open at the commanding way someone—my father?—says my name.
