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Before I know it, the bell signaling the end of the day rings, and the kids pack up their desks. My heart is so full as I watch them file from the classroom, and without even thinking I press my hand to my stomach. Not because I’m wondering what it would be like to have a child of my own, but because it’s suddenly very grumbly.
I take a sip from my water bottle and put it back into my bag. My stomach growls a bit louder and I swallow uneasily.
“Hey.”
My heart leaps at the sound of Roman’s voice in my doorway. “What are you doing here? I thought you had work to do.”
He jerks his thumb over his shoulder and he has a teasing grin on his face when he says, “If you don’t want me—”
“I want you,” I say.
He steps up to me and pulls me to his body and I slide my arms around his neck. “Yeah, I can tell,” he says playfully.
“How about we go home and I get you naked.”
My body warms at the idea as I say, “What time is our dinner reservation?”
He puts his mouth close to my ear. “The only thing I’m hungry for is you.”
A thrill goes through me. “What a coincidence, because the only thing I want to put in my mouth is you.”
His breathing changes. “Jesus, girl. Keep that up and I’ll bend you over this desk.” He inches back and his brow furrows.
“What?” I ask.
“Are you okay? You actually look a bit pale.” He touches my forehead. “No fever, but you’re kind of cold and clammy.”
“I’m always cold,” I say, brushing it off, but he’s right, I’m not actually feeling great.
“Not like this, Peyton.”
“My stomach is a little funny, actually,” I say. “It just started. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”
“Let’s get you home.”
Home.
I like the idea of Roman, me and...home. I’ve always lived in houses, never homes, and I’d be wise not to think this time is any different. When he leaves, I leave the villa. I’ll have to find something permanent for myself, something I can afford.
He leads me outside, and I wince as the sun shines down on me, the contents in my stomach churning. Roman keeps casting me quick glances, like he’s worried I’m going to go down for the count. I’m a little worried about that, too.
I pick up the pace and he hurries along with me. By the time we reach the villa, I’m in a full-blown sweat and whatever is in my stomach wants out.
“Roman,” I say, and grab his sleeve. “I’m not feeling good.”
He scoops me up and hurries upstairs to the bathroom. “Are you going to vomit?”
“No.” Oh God, this is so embarrassing. “Please leave.”
“Peyton, I don’t want to leave you.” He stands over me as I grip my stomach. “I think you need my help.”
“Roman, please, you need to leave right now,” I blurt out, never more embarrassed in my life. “Trust me on this.”
He hesitates, but the pleading look in my eyes must have convinced him. He steps into the smaller bedroom and closes the door behind him.
“Go downstairs,” I yell, mortified. “I need to die in peace.”
“Call out if you need me,” he says as I hurry out of my clothes and drop down onto the commode, my entire life flashing before my eyes. “This cannot be happening,” I cry as pain rips across my abdomen.
