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- CHAPTER TEN -
Ellie
I’m speeding across the room, holding the vile in my mouth as I push past what feels like hundreds of bodies. They’re all dressed perfectly, laughing and dancing and having a fan-fucking-tastic time.
And here I am, racing towards the bathroom with burning, acidic vomit lodged somewhere between my throat and my mouth, choking me with every lunging stride I take.
Vomit stains clothing, right?
That’s all I can think about. A random guy in a navy-blue suit waves his arms in front of me and I’m forced to swipe at his face. “Move!” I manage to scream through a disgusting mouthful of spew.
His face scrunches and the lady’s restroom is finally in view. I force the door open and ignore the three young girls who are acting sheepish in front of the mirrors. They all snap their necks as soon as the door smashes back against the wall, alerting them to my presence. A phone is rested against the mirror, the camera showing off the three girls on the screen.
I get it… Tiktok is fantastic. I’m all for dancing like a dick for the entire world to see, but right now…
“Get out! Get out!”
I force my way forward, and the girls screw their faces and quickly disappear. I collapse in front of the toilet bowl and send wave after wave of vomit splashing around the bowl. My body shivers on the cold tiles. My skin feels steaming hot. Sweat is dripping down my back. And when my stomach finally settles, I rest back against the cubicle wall, struggling to breathe.
“Fuck,” I groan, swiping my wrist against the sweat on my brow. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
The bathroom is silent. The young girls are gone. Thank fuck for that, no one should have to witness the noise of me throwing up. Believe me.
Cold air prickles my skin and slowly, my stomach releases the cramp that has been holding on so tightly.
Fuck. I… I can’t be…
My breathing isn’t slowing. A gut-wrenching thought crosses my mind. It’s not the first time, and the sense that I might be right is growing stronger.
I’ve been ill before, but not like this.
That doesn’t mean you’re… No. I’m not. I’d know by now…
My chest is rising and falling rapidly as I catch my breath. A rhythmic dripping noise comes from the basin and breaks the silence. It feels more like torture with every drop that echoes in the silence of my racing head.
I stare down at my purse.
I need to know. I was going to wait until after tonight. But it can’t wait any longer.
My body doesn’t react like this to anything. I don’t get stomach cramps. It’s not period pain. This isn’t a bug. It’s not food poisoning.
No. I know what this is.
Plus, I need to pee. So, what the hell…
I unbuckle my purse and pull the box out. Opening it quickly, I retrieve the stick and take a long, deep breath. I position myself on the toilet and relieve myself as normal, only this time, I’m holding a tiny, life-changing stick in the steady hot stream tinkling the toilet bowl.
I’m doing the math in my head. Miles is the only guy I’ve been with for the past six months, so that part is easy. The other night was too soon, though. Wasn’t it? Can you fall pregnant that quickly? Would I be feeling the effects already?
No. I know exactly when it was.
An image of Miles flashes before my eyes. One hot, steamy passionate night of sex was the moment. There was wine. Lots of wine. We’d been getting along so well. This was all before the pressure of coming clean to Noah had buried Miles’ feelings for me.
Shit.
How the hell is he going to react? He’s looking to sign the last contract of his career, he’s already under so much pressure. Do I need to tell him? Does he even want children?
Oh, God… I’ve really fucked up this time.
The stick rests on the box and as I yank my panties up and flap my dress out, I hear the squeak of the bathroom door open.
“Ellie? Ellie!”
“Miles?”
My stomach drops and I fumble to collect the pregnancy test from the floor. My cheeks flush and I spin to hide the stick and box on top of the toilet.
“Are you ok, baby? Do you need water or some crushed ice?”
Smiling, my heart leaps. This man. Fucking hell, if only he knew what was really going on in here, would he be so sweet and supportive?
I open the cubicle door and as I do, Miles is pacing. He has one hand scratching the back of his neck, the other fidgeting in his pocket. He’s stepping quickly, panic clearly straining his eyes. When I step out, he quickly jumps across and wraps his big arms around me.
“Oh, baby… Are you ok?”
