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“Hello?” I call again, this time taking a step back. “Who’s there? Are you okay?” I hate the quiver in my voice, but I can’t stop it. I’m trying my best not to vomit all over the hallway.
“It’s me.”
Rachel.
She’s been ill for a while now. I thought for sure she was getting better. What the hell does she have? I feel like this has been going on for weeks now. My hands fist and I push through the nausea. I close the distance between me and the bathroom door, pressing my ear against it while I ask, “Are you okay? Are you sick?”
“No,” she croaks. “I’m fine.”
Yeah. Like I’m going to believe any of that.
“Do you need anything?”
She wretches again and I clench my jaw, a shiver running down my spine as I feel bile beginning to rise up my throat. Nope. I’m not going to do this. Rachel is sick and I am going to be there for her. I can be strong. I won’t let this thing get to me.
“When was the last time you took anything? Maybe I can get you some Pepto? Or Ibuprofen?”
I hear her sniff and my heart aches for her. She must be in so much pain. I can hear a little sob beyond the door. “I’m fine, Alex. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be out soon.”
How can I not worry? With a sigh, I turn on my heel and run down the stairs toward the kitchen. We must have something that can help with a stomach ache. I open one cabinet after another, finding an assortment of cups taken from various bars, several open cereal boxes, some flour, but nothing resembling medicine. We must have a medicine cabinet somewhere, right? I can’t remember where we put everything when he moved in. Everything happened so fast and Seth and I pretty much had to leave the next day. One would think we’d have a medicine cabinet somewhere.
When I find nothing, I turn to the drawers, finding silverware and a junk drawer, which surprising has some aspirin, but I don’t think that will really do much. Rachel’s purse sits on the counter, next to the sink. She must have left that and ran upstairs to go vomit. Maybe she took some medicine with her when she went to class earlier? There’s no way I’m going to dig through her bag without her permission. I could… find things… things I don’t want to find. Also, the bag is huge. It could take me several minutes before I find what she needs.
So, I find myself going upstairs again, deciding it better to ask for her permission, or to see if she knows where I can find any medicine for her. “Rachel,” I ask while knocking lightly at the door. “Do you know where the Pepto is? Should I look in your bag?”
I gag when she wretches in response and run back down the stairs, swallowing bile. My nails dig into my palms and I gulp down several breaths of air in an attempt to calm myself. Okay. I’m on my own. Rachel is too sick to help and currently I am all she has. The bros are probably working late.
With one last deep breath, I stalk toward her purse and unzip it, hoping she doesn’t have anything embarrassing hidden inside. I pull out her wallet and lay it next to the bag before reaching inside again, finding sunglasses, lip gloss, a compact mirror, a pencil case, everything, but a bottle of Pepto Bismol or Ibuprofen.
My fingers skim against something smooth and I frown while pulling out a picture, my eyes widening as I recognize the image in front of me. It’s small and in black and white, displaying what looks to be the outline of a fetus.
“A sonogram?” I whisper to myself, turning it over in my hand, careful not to smudge it too much with my fingers.
Why in the hell would she have a sonogram?
As I stare longer at the picture, my hands tremble, bile rising in my throat for the third time, my heart fluttering. I sway on my feet, the dots connecting together too fast for me to keep up with. She’s upstairs vomiting. She’s put on some weight. Even when she’s not vomiting, she seems sick.
Fuck.
She’s pregnant.
Why didn’t I notice this before? These past few weeks, I’ve been studying for the GAMSAT. Fuck. I’m a doctor’s son. Why did it take so fucking long for me to realize this? And how far along is she? The figure in the sonogram looks like a baby, but definitely isn’t full grown. This isn’t something that happened recently. She’s been pregnant for a while.
I clench my jaw, pushing down the anger rising in m, but I can’t help wondering why she didn’t tell us sooner? She’s been keeping this a secret and the thought of it only makes me angrier. I thought we were in love. Don’t people in love share everything with each other?
Red blurs my gaze and I find myself stomping up the steps, unable to stop the rage tearing through me. “Rachel!” I shout. “Rachel! I need you to come out. Now!”
I slam my fist against the door, ready to rip it open if she refuses to open it. My hand seizes the knob and I wriggle it, tempted to kick through it, but then, Rachel opens it, her wide eyes gleaming up at me, her lips parted. Her face is flushed and she leans against the door, looking completely exhausted with her hair pulled back.
I don’t know why. All the rage brewing inside me leaves swiftly as I gaze down at her. She looks so ill, so beautiful. I want to pull her into my arms and give her a hug, however, I hold my ground.
“What is it, Alex?” She asks innocently.
I hold up the sonogram, watching her eyes widen as I ask, “How far along are you?”
Chapter 10
RACHEL
