Page 104 of Cloud Storm

“No worries, Roselynn, I’m fine.”

Shit, here we go again.

Yuck!

“That doesn’t sound good, do you want me to call Lance?”

“No, please don’t call him,” I beg, knowing he would appear here like a bull in a china shop, ready to drag me to the first hospital that crossed his path. “Just get me a bottle of sparkling water. I’ll be fine. This is the result of last night being a good acquaintance with my good ol’ friend margarita.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, opening the door to find me on the floor, wearing an old T-shirt of Lancelot’s and a green face.

“Ariel, do you want me to go to the pharmacy to get you something?”

“Yes, please, some Pepto and a Gatorade.”

For once it seems that my friend does what I ask her and leaves me alone. Fifteen minutes later I’m lying in bed, sipping a glass of water.

Roselynn enters the room and looks at me with a worried face.

“Did you bring the Pepto?”

She nods and passes me a paper bag they use so you don’t see what’s inside.

“I also brought you some other things,” she replies.

I open the bag to find a couple of boxes that I’m sure I haven’t asked for.

“What did you bring these for?” I frown. “Don’t tell me you are…”

She shakes her head before answering. “They’re not for me, Ariel, they’re for you.”

“I don’t need this shit,” I scowl, tossing the bag out of sight. How dare she?

“Just take the test. If you say it’s impossible, you have nothing to fear.”

“And that’s why you’re going to make me pee on a stick?”

“Ariel, you’ve been sick for days now. And even if you deny it, we both know it’s not because of alcohol. Go to the bathroom and take the test.”

No, no, no. This isn’t the way I planned to do this.

First, I should be married, with Lancelot by my side, waiting as nervous as I am right now. Holding hands and sweating bullets together, because our lives are about to change forever.

Five minutes later I’m unable to look at the white stick resting on the counter.

I’m terrified.

Suddenly I feel as if the building of the great Wynn Hotel is going to fall on me.

“Rosie, call Lancelot, please.”

There is no way I can do this by myself. Even though I want to kill him right now, it’s only right if he’s here with me.

My fiancé enters the bathroom moments later and finds me still sitting on the toilet lid, with my face buried in my hands, unable to look at the pregnancy test.

While waiting, I had time to do some math, remembering my last period and if it’s what I think, it’ll be the result of our getaway last month and the fact that I forgot to pack my birth control pills. How could I be so careless?

“Easy, Hummingbird, I’m here with you,” he says as he lifts me up and sits on the edge of the bathtub, placing me on his lap.

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