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“Depends. With Maisie, I was sick right up until the end.” My dismay must show on my face. “Oh, but that’s not the case for everyone, and every pregnancy is different.”
“I don’t know what to expect,” I admit, and I hate that I have to. What kind of person doesn’t know what’s happening inside their own body?
“With your pregnancy?”
“Yeah.”
“I have a ton of books at home.” She pulls out her phone. “I’ll ask Ralph to drop by the house and pick them up.”
My mouth instantly dries. It’s such a small gesture, but it means so much to me. “Thank you.”
“Skye, you need to understand what’s happening with you. Rage should’ve got you this stuff.”
My defences flare. It isn’t bad what she said, but it also pisses me off. “He’s trying his best.”
Her head snaps up from her phone. “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply he wasn’t. You two are young, and this is scary enough to go through when you’re as old as I am.”
I’m not sure she’s even thirty, but I appreciate her trying to make me feel better.
I watch as she sends the message. We’re being watched, not only by Socket, who remains close by, but also by my favourite person—Heidi.
She hates me with a fury I’ve never experienced before.
“The first trimester is rough,” Hope says, putting her phone away. “There’s a lot of changes happening and the, uh… the horniness.”
I blink. “The what?”
“I can’t get enough of Kayden. I want him to fuck me all the time, and when he’s not there, I’m like a dog in heat.”
She whispers the last part conspiratorially.
“Is that a pregnancy thing?”
“Yeah. Something to do with increased blood flow down there and hormones, I think.”
“That explains a lot,” I say.
Hope laughs. “You and Rage been at it like rabbits?”
“You could say that. Will it… will it hurt the baby? We’re not exactly gentle.”
Her expression softens. “No, your baby is protected inside you. They can withstand a lot.” I hear the sadness in her words, and I know we’re no longer talking about me but about something else.
I don’t know why, but I reach out and grab her hand, squeezing it gently in mine. “Thank you for telling me this. I feel so in the dark, and I’m scared of what’s coming.”
Hope places her other hand on top of our joined ones. “You’ll be fine. It’s not the most pleasant experience, giving birth, but when you’re holding your baby, you won’t give it a second thought.”
Somehow, I doubt that’s true, but I don’t want to counter her words. I want to grip onto the fantasy that this will be a magical, mystical thing.
“How many weeks are you?”
Her hand goes to her stomach. “Ten weeks.”
“Two more than me.”
“Maybe our babies will be friends.”
I smile, though I feel choked. “I’d like that.”
