Page 32 of Claiming What Is Mine

Chapter Sixteen

Meredith

Ugh.It’s the third time this week I’ve had my head buried in the toilet first thing in the morning. What? The? Hell?

There’s the obvious reason a woman might be sick in the morning, but I’m one hundred percent positive that can’t be the cause. For one thing, my period is due to start...mmm...any time now. I mean, it’s not like it’s ever followed a schedule I could set my watch to, but it’s definitely time. A bead of sweat forms on my forehead. Like, really, any time now.

And anyway, Gabe is the only man I’ve been with in…well, longer than I care to think about, and we always use protection. Aside from our first time—the night of Chet’s wedding. But come on? Pregnant on the first try? What are the odds?

After several minutes of dry heaving, I push away from the bowl. Don’t start stressing. That’s a guaranteed trip to crazy town for what is sure to be nothing. It’s a stomach bug or something.

I brush my teeth and crawl back into the safety of bed. I pull the covers up around my neck and hope, maybe, if I just fall back asleep I’ll feel better when I wake. Wrong. Instead, my mind spins through the timeline of these last weeks, trying to fit the pieces together. The wedding was…almost four weeks ago. My last period was…like a couple weeks before that? Holy shit.

Holy.

Shit.

It can’t be. I mean, really. It can’t be that. I feel sick to my stomach again, but for a very different reason.

Can it?

Oh my God, that would be the absolute icing on the disaster cake that is my life. I clench the covers as my body curls into a tight little ball. The all-consuming fear of what-ifs has the hair on the back of my neck standing straight. Sure, I want children. Someday. And I recognize the timeline for that is shrinking by the day. But now? This is hardly the time. A baby deserves security and responsibility. Things like money and a home. Both of which, I am currently in need of myself.

Unable to find a comfortable position, I flip onto my side. And then there’s Gabe. We’re just getting off the ground again, could our relationship survive a bomb like that? He is charming and handsome and fun to be around. But, a dad? Assuming his head doesn’t explode when I give him the news, how would that work? I feel like I would have to explicitly spell out obvious things, like, I don’t care if you did double check the ties between the car seat and the saddle, you can’t put a baby on horseback. Or, No, peanut butter doesn’t require teeth, but I’m positive a three-month-old isn’t ready for that kind of food.

Thinking of him that way is adorable.

But this isn’t the time for adorable.

This is serious.

I’m sweating like I’m in a sauna and I can’t decide if it’s from the nausea or the anxiety. I kick the covers away and flop onto my back. Seriously, how can my body be burning up while my hands are ice cold? It’s got to be a bug. My thoughts drift back to the conversation with Christy and her question about my career and living situation. I never planned to stay here, coming home was supposed to be temporary. Gabe’s life is tied to his ranch. Which means he’s tied to this area. How would a baby fit into that puzzle?

The edges of the room get fuzzy as my life tailspins out of control. My eyes clamp shut and I try to think happier thoughts.

Bunnies.

Nope.

That makes me think of Easter, then Easter eggs, then little Easter baskets.

Christmas.

Nope.

That makes me think of Christmas trees, then Christmas presents under the tree, then excited little faces tearing at wrapping paper.

Something safer.

Cows. Cows are safe, right?

Wrong again.

Cows make me think of milk, which makes me think of calves, which brings me back to babies, which is the one thing I’m trying not to think about.

Damnit.

Okay, so I’ll pick up a pregnancy test and find out. No big deal. There’s nothing to worry about unless there’s something to worry about. But I can’t buy a test around here. At best, everyone is like, three degrees away from knowing everyone else. And this? This is exactly the kind of information that makes for good gossip. Heaven help me. Alright, I’ll drive to Sterling and pick a random pharmacy. I can wear big, dark, gaudy, sunglasses and a floopy hat. I’ll park down the street, so no one sees my car. Am I overthinking this?

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