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CHAPTER FOUR
CARMELLA
It’s been three weeks since Bea’s wedding, three weeks since I’ve seen my girls, and three weeks since I’ve heard from Alessandro. He texted me the night after the wedding to check if I was okay and not too sore. I was sore that next day, I couldn’t even manage to finish the eight-mile run I do every day. Sergio thought it was hilarious and put it down to my first hangover. I had four small glasses of champagne, but I wasn’t hungover. Not that I was going to mention the real reason to him, though.
I haven’t been feeling a hundred percent since yesterday. I’ve felt quite nauseous.
Mom cooked a chicken cacciatore, my favorite. I’m sure it must have been Mom’s cooking, though, as I never get sick when May, our house keeper cooks it.
I’ve spent the rest of the day lounging in my room, mainly on my bed. I didn’t run with Sergio this morning, and he texted to check I was okay.
I let him know I was feeling slightly under the weather but that I would be back to our run tomorrow morning.
I just need to get a good night’s sleep and some rest.
Mom brings me up some chicken noodle soup for supper.
“You look pasty,cara,are you sure you don’t want me to call the doctor?” Mom frowns as she sets my soup down on the bedside table.
“I’m sure, Momma. I already feel better than earlier. I just need to sleep it off I think.” Mom looks skeptical at my reply.
Probably because it’s a lie. I don’t feel better. I feel sick and drained.
I’m meant to be travelling to New York the day after tomorrow, though, so I need to feel better. Her and Papa won’t let me go to Leo’s mom’s event if they think I’m still unwell. So, I fake a smile I’m not feeling and trudge over to eat my soup. As I raise it to my lips, a sudden wave of sickness comes over me. I can’t vomit with Momma here.
“Are you planning on watching me eat, Momma?”
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes—that’s where I get it from, Papa says—then places a kiss to my forehead and leaves me to eat my soup in peace.
As soon as she leaves the room, I run to the bathroom and vomit the little water I’ve managed to drink today.
I manage to sleep really well, and when I wake up, I smile that I finally feel better. That is until I sit up and a wave of nausea comes over me.
Shit!
I really want to go to the party tomorrow. I want to spend some time with Bea and Nell. Leo has arranged it all so it’s a surprise for Bea. Sweet, I’m just hoping it’s not because he’s guilty over something. From the few FaceTimes we’ve had over the last few weeks, she seems settled, happy almost.
I fling my legs out of bed, determined to get up for a run with Sergio, not that I think I’ll make it more than a mile without throwing up.
I enter my bathroom and rummage under the counter. I’m looking for something to help with this bloody sickness. Moving things out the way, I manage to find the little medical box I’m looking for. Putting everything back neatly, as I hate mess, I reach for the final thing left on my counter.
I still for a second as I grab the tampons and put them back in their usual place.
Strange, I’m sure I’m due at any moment. Maybe that’s why I feel crappy, I’m probably premenstrual. Shuffling back into my room, I grab my phone and pull up my cycle tracking app.
Nine Days Late.
My hands start to shake as I cancel out of the app and restart the app.
Nine Days Late.
The little flower on the screen mocks me. There is no way I can be late.
Fuck!
This cannot be happening. I crumble to the floor and lean my head back against my silky comforter. I didn’t miss my pill once. I took it slightly later, well the next morning after the wedding but the packet says to take it as soon as you remember.
Fuck!
