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“Harvey! I’m talking to you!” Elsa snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Come on!”
“Sorry, I got caught in a daydream about you!” I lean down to kiss her then start to get ready. “Where are we going?”
“Your teammates are having a celebration dinner, Harvey!” She claps at me to hurry. “Bree and Pinchon threw it together!”
“Oh yeah, I forgot!” Suddenly, I feel animated. “Let’s go, then!”
As she changes clothes and brushes her hair, I try to match my outfit to hers—although it seems my first choice didn't quite meet her approval because she makes me choose another one.
Together, we head out for the night, hand in hand.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
ELSA
It’sacold,yetsunny morning today, and Harvey is away from me once again. Their fourth game is tomorrow, and if they win that one, then the Stanley Cup is theirs.
They’re concentrating all their energy on the game, and I don’t blame them — destroying the Vipers is all Harvey has been talking about.
It’s good to see him in his element like this. I’m glad that we haven’t had any new scares lately. The extra police officers and security around, including the guard standing outside Harvey’s hotel room, do make me feel safer, but I still have worry in the back of my mind.
And I’ve been feeling sick ever since the celebration dinner. Then again, no one told me to eat that many pepperoni pizza slices.
I wake up in a hurry to puke in the toilet once again, dreading the day I got pregnant not because of the baby, but because of all the morning sickness.
Still, I head out to watch the team training — maybe I can talk to Harvey a little and let him know how I’ve been feeling, but I’m sure he’ll just tell me to go to the doctor, as practical as he is.
I meet Bree, Lucy, Mary, and the rest of the girls at the stadium, and we sit together near the lockers to watch the guys play this important game.
With all those pounds of gear, I can’t tell one player from another, but I do recognize Harvey by his jersey. And he recognizes me, tossing me a kiss in the air, which I catch and store safely near my heart.
They’re doing exercises with cones and several of the plastic disks when I look around just to check if that Stephen guy is around or not. He hasn’t been, but I still always check in case.
Maybe he gave up after we got the police involved. I’m just glad he is leaving us alone.
I start to feel sick again and go pay a visit to the toilet. Bree comes after me and finds me on my knees in front of the porcelain, miserable and in pain.
“Oh my, what’s going on?” She comes near me and gently touches my back.
“Nausea,” I say, only to hurl out the contents of my stomach again.
“Um,” she says, seemingly uncomfortable. “May I ask you a question?”
I spit one last time and then stand, flush down the commode and go straight to the sink to rinse my mouth.
“Yes,” I say, but I know what’s coming along.
“Are you pregnant?” Bree asks, her eyes curious and concerned.
“It’s that obvious, huh?” I say, smiling at her.
“How far along are you?” she asks, getting interested.
“Four weeks or so,” I take a deep sigh. “Why is that always the first question people ask?”
Bree laughs at what I say, a burst of sweet laughter so sisterly it makes me smile. “I don’t know! I think people are just curious about how long until they’ll be able to hold the baby.”
I shrug. “Makes sense. Would you go with me to a pharmacy to get some nausea medicine? I’m all out.”
