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“And?”
“And he said if I wanted to talk to call him. I did—a couple days ago, just after I took the test. But I got his voicemail. I was still in panic mode then, but now that I’ve calmed down, I don’t need to talk. But he just texted and said to meet him Monday for coffee.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“He’s not going to upset me, Ty.”
“I couldn’t give a shit, Liv. We’re in this together. Besides, he can go back to your mum and tell her I’m a great guy, can’t he?”
“Of course he can. He’d be crazy to think you’re anything else.”
“Do I detect sarcasm there?”
“Probably.”
He leans over the sofa and kisses me. “Your sarcasm sucks.”
“No, I suck,” I mutter, nipping his bottom lip.
“Good thing, too. We have an hour or so in a plane tomorrow. Since you denied me the last time we flew together, you can put your sucking to good use, can’t you?”
“A challenge?”
“A demand.”
“Far be it from me to deny you your demands.”
I follow Tyler onto the plane with a swirling in my stomach. I lick my lips several times, as if I can shift my focus from it. It doesn’t work. I get the feeling that the half slice of toast I had this morning before we left isn’t sitting well and will soon be making its reappearance.
I settle my hand over my stomach as I sit on the plush, leather seats. Tyler eyes me, concerned, and I remember him talking about going to the doctor. Sure, we never made it, but I’m starting to wish I’d called and got an appointment.
If she can give something, anything, to make this awful all-day-long sickness go away, you bet I’m gonna jump on it.
“We can delay a little bit if you need to,” Tyler says softly, pushing hair from my face.
I nod, not daring to open my mouth. He gets up and knocks on the door of the cockpit. I hear him ask them to hold for fifteen minutes. Then he’ll come back and let them know if we need to delay further.
My stomach cramps as he walks toward me, and I get up, darting around him. One hand on my stomach and the other clamped over my mouth, I run to the bathroom. He follows me and opens the door.
I drop to the floor in front of the toilet, and my suspicions are confirmed.
Tyler holds back my hair as my stomach empties itself into the sparking porcelain. He rubs my back as I choke and splutter, seemingly unaffected by my vomiting.
My eyes burn with hot tears once again, and I reach up to flush the toilet.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter to myself.
Tyler releases me, and when I turn, he’s holding a packet of face wipes and a toothbrush. I offer him a weak smile, and he crouches next to me.
“I came prepared.” He opens the wipes and tenderly cleans around my mouth and chin before handing me some for my eyes.
I wipe my makeup off completely. Right now, I don’t give a crap how I look. I grab the toothbrush from him and get up. Bile rises in my throat for a second time and I pause, gripping the side of the sink.
“Are you—”
I shake my head and wave my hand at him. I take a few deep breaths through my nose and the feeling subsides. Thankfully.
“Now.” I shove the toothbrush at him and he puts some toothpaste on.
