Page 22 of Floored

Maybe I'd just had a bad breakfast. Or lunch. Or tea.

My pace picked up as I booked it from the station back to my place. Yes. I liked that train of thought.

And honestly, I had to stick with it because as I approached the building that I would call home for a few months, I knew I absolutely had to convince myself it was true until I was safely ensconced behind locked doors and out of sight.

Have you ever seen someone fumble with a bottle of champagne? The really big expensive ones that would probably kill someone if you used it as a weapon. Molly got one for a party once, some fancy Amazon shindig for work that we were all invited to. She struggled to open it, and because it got jostled, the bubbles were angry, looking for a place to go once the pressure was released.

Once she got the cork off, oh, did they explode.

I imagined that happening inside my poor body. I could hardly pay attention to any aspect of my surroundings, wearing veritable blinders the entire time I left Haworth, the entire time I was on the train staring blankly out the window, and the entire time I hoofed it back to my flat.

So much pressure was building in me that the moment that cork came out, holy shit, I was going to erupt like a hormonal Vesuvius. Tears. Snot. Splotchy skin.

Somewhere, in that part of me that hated putting labels on shit like this, I knew exactly what this was.

Panic.

It felt like bottled panic.

Even putting a name to that emotion had my skin vibrating at a dangerous frequency as I took the steps up to my flat. My teeth clenched. My fingers curled into tight balls.

As I hit the top step, my breath sawed in and out of my lungs like I'd just run a freaking marathon. Alishiya was coming out of her apartment with a polite smile on her face. I knew the moment she saw all that angry, bubbling panic because her eyebrows bent in concern.

"Are you all right?"

Tight-lipped, I gave her a, "Mm-hmm," in response because honestly, I couldn't handle anything besides that.

She didn't push, which I would thank her for later. She must not have three sisters and a mama bear mother figure because holy hell, if I was at home right now, they'd be all up in my face.

"Shit," I whispered, my voice wavering, my chin wobbling.

What a stupid thought to have in my current predicament. If I was at home right now.

The first tear slipped out, and it took every shred of self-control to hold in the sob that wanted to follow it. My hand was shaking so badly that the key clanged in the door. From behind me, Alishiya laid a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Let me help you," she said, in her lovely Scottish accent. The key taken from my hand, I pressed my fist against my mouth like a fucking cork because all the things had to stay right where they were for just five more seconds.

The door unlocked, and I gave her a grateful look. But honestly, if I tried to talk ... if I opened my mouth even a little ... I'd lose everything I'd held in for the past five and a half hours since I puked up my granola bar.

She smiled. "It'll be all right. Whatever it is."

With a jerky nod, I slid into my apartment and closed the door behind me. For a minute, it served as the only thing keeping me from crumpling down onto the floor. My phone buzzed, and I was slow in pulling it out of my backpack because I had a feeling it was Jude. I'd dropped off our conversation really freaking fast once the whole I might be pregnant and holy shit, he plays professional soccer bombshell hit.

I dumped my bag onto the floor and lurched forward to my little couch, fumbling with my purse as I did because I needed one thing.

I needed Claire.

Ignoring the text notifications, I went straight for the FaceTime. We were not even messing around with phone calls. The camera pulled up while I waited for her to pick up, and I winced. I looked like a crazy person.

When the call connected, when I saw her smiling face—identical to mine, but like, not crazy looking—the cork slipped.

Claire's smile disappeared immediately. "What's wrong?"

My chin wobbled.

"Oh my gosh, what's wrong?" Now her chin wobbled. "Lia, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I …" I whispered, but my voice was practically inaudible. "I'm not hurt."

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