“Your smell is making me sick.”
I’ve never been this ill before. This is a different kind of sick. It’s certainly not food poisoning. It’s almost as if I feel better that I’m vomiting, which makes absolutely no sense.
I hear the rustle of Colin’s shirt being removed. He leaves the bathroom with it, and is blissfully gone for a few seconds. Immediately, my stomach begins to settle. I sag against the cold bathroom tiles, strangely feeling so much better.
When he walks back into the tiny bathroom, Colin stares down at me like I have two heads. “Jesus Christ, what was that?” he asks after what feels like minutes of his scrutinizing glare.
I feel weak, but not weak like I just vomited from a stomach bug. It’s more that my abs scream like they’ve gotten a good workout, but I feel the best I’ve felt since I got home from Cabo.
“I don’t know,” I say shaking my head. “But I feel so much better. Maybe I got whatever has been plaguing me since Cabo out.”
I tear off a piece of toilet paper and wipe my mouth. I flush the toilet, and as soon as Colin realizes that I’m trying to stand he rushes to my side, helping me to my feet. I push him off and take the two steps to the sink to rinse out my mouth. “Seriously, I feel fine. Give me a few minutes in here to freshen up. Go back to your meeting. Make my excuses for me. I’m going to head over to Doctor Starr’s a bit early.”
“I’m going with you. You can’t drive.” I brace my hands on either side of the sink and look at his reflection in the mirror. His forehead is etched with worry lines, and his gorgeous full lips are turned down. His arms are crossed over his chest in a determined stance. He looks like a puffed-up bullfrog, and I almost laugh.
“These people flew nine hours for this meeting with you. You aren’t going with me. She’s just going to do some blood work. That’s it. There will be plenty of appointments that you’re needed at,” I say looking down at his crotch in the mirror. “Besides, you’ll just be in the way.”
He reaches out for my arm and spins me around, tilting my chin up so I can see into his blazing green eyes. “I don’t give a fuck they flew nine hours for this meeting. You’re what I care about. I. Want. To. Come,” he says.
I place my hand on his chest and playfully push him back. “I’m fine. Now, go earn us some Lake Somerville house money. You know I’m going to want a Viking range.”
This has become our joke. Since the architect asked for our wish list, I’ve been teasing Colin about all the expensive upgrades that I want. We even started a spare-change jar in the bathroom for my marble counters. Yes, Colin has made enough money that he can write a check for whatever we want for the house, but it takes away the fun of dreaming and working for it. I want to know that the marble counters we’ve saved for, and not from some arbitrary investment that Aiden made on Colin’s behalf.
Dreaming of our vacation/getaway home has been a great distraction from our infertility. In fact, it’s almost been as good as Pancho.
“We can’t afford it without this extra cologne money.” He smirks, thankfully allowing me to change the subject from being sick. “Promise you’ll call as soon as you’re out?”
“Yes, Dad,” I reply, letting out a sigh.
“You’ll text when you get there?” When he cocks his eyebrow up, it’s really not a question. It’s more of a forceful reminder.
“Yes, Dad,” I say, folding my arms over my chest and rolling my eyes, playing the part of the bratty teenager. I turn back around to the sink to finish freshening up.
He swats my behind as he walks out. “I take it you didn’t like number one,” he calls over his shoulder.
“You think?” I reply. “Might want to leave the shirt at the office.”
I hear his laugh as I turn on the water.
****
This is not how it’s supposed to be. Colin and I made a pact that if I thought I was pregnant, we
I’ve never been this ill before. This is a different kind of sick. It’s certainly not food poisoning. It’s almost as if I feel better that I’m vomiting, which makes absolutely no sense.
I hear the rustle of Colin’s shirt being removed. He leaves the bathroom with it, and is blissfully gone for a few seconds. Immediately, my stomach begins to settle. I sag against the cold bathroom tiles, strangely feeling so much better.
When he walks back into the tiny bathroom, Colin stares down at me like I have two heads. “Jesus Christ, what was that?” he asks after what feels like minutes of his scrutinizing glare.
I feel weak, but not weak like I just vomited from a stomach bug. It’s more that my abs scream like they’ve gotten a good workout, but I feel the best I’ve felt since I got home from Cabo.
“I don’t know,” I say shaking my head. “But I feel so much better. Maybe I got whatever has been plaguing me since Cabo out.”
I tear off a piece of toilet paper and wipe my mouth. I flush the toilet, and as soon as Colin realizes that I’m trying to stand he rushes to my side, helping me to my feet. I push him off and take the two steps to the sink to rinse out my mouth. “Seriously, I feel fine. Give me a few minutes in here to freshen up. Go back to your meeting. Make my excuses for me. I’m going to head over to Doctor Starr’s a bit early.”
“I’m going with you. You can’t drive.” I brace my hands on either side of the sink and look at his reflection in the mirror. His forehead is etched with worry lines, and his gorgeous full lips are turned down. His arms are crossed over his chest in a determined stance. He looks like a puffed-up bullfrog, and I almost laugh.
“These people flew nine hours for this meeting with you. You aren’t going with me. She’s just going to do some blood work. That’s it. There will be plenty of appointments that you’re needed at,” I say looking down at his crotch in the mirror. “Besides, you’ll just be in the way.”
He reaches out for my arm and spins me around, tilting my chin up so I can see into his blazing green eyes. “I don’t give a fuck they flew nine hours for this meeting. You’re what I care about. I. Want. To. Come,” he says.
I place my hand on his chest and playfully push him back. “I’m fine. Now, go earn us some Lake Somerville house money. You know I’m going to want a Viking range.”
This has become our joke. Since the architect asked for our wish list, I’ve been teasing Colin about all the expensive upgrades that I want. We even started a spare-change jar in the bathroom for my marble counters. Yes, Colin has made enough money that he can write a check for whatever we want for the house, but it takes away the fun of dreaming and working for it. I want to know that the marble counters we’ve saved for, and not from some arbitrary investment that Aiden made on Colin’s behalf.
Dreaming of our vacation/getaway home has been a great distraction from our infertility. In fact, it’s almost been as good as Pancho.
“We can’t afford it without this extra cologne money.” He smirks, thankfully allowing me to change the subject from being sick. “Promise you’ll call as soon as you’re out?”
“Yes, Dad,” I reply, letting out a sigh.
“You’ll text when you get there?” When he cocks his eyebrow up, it’s really not a question. It’s more of a forceful reminder.
“Yes, Dad,” I say, folding my arms over my chest and rolling my eyes, playing the part of the bratty teenager. I turn back around to the sink to finish freshening up.
He swats my behind as he walks out. “I take it you didn’t like number one,” he calls over his shoulder.
“You think?” I reply. “Might want to leave the shirt at the office.”
I hear his laugh as I turn on the water.
****
This is not how it’s supposed to be. Colin and I made a pact that if I thought I was pregnant, we
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