Page 49 of Who's Your Daddy?

I grab the door before she closes it in my face and push it open again. “What do you mean, you’re nauseous? Have you been feeling like this since Dylan’s wedding?”

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal. If I have some warm water, I usually don’t throw up.”

“No big deal? Lia, it’s almost two weeks. That’s not normal.”

She lets out an irritable breath that sounds almost lethargic. “It’s probably just a tummy bug.”

“Tummy bugs don’t last that long. Have you seen a doctor?”

“Well, I’m a little low on funds, and I don’t have insurance, so this ailment is gonna have to sort itself out.”

God, she’s frustrating. “Lia—”

“Peter, just let it go.” She rubs her forehead, her patience reaching the end of its tether. “I’m just a little under the weather. I’ll be fine in a few days. Thank you for everything. Thank you for coming here to check on me, but please don’t do this again. I’m no one to you, so you are under no obligation to look after me or check up on me. My problems are not your problems, okay? It’s time for you to go back to your life and forget about me.”

She closes the door, and this time, I let her. She’s right. Her problems aren’t mine. I need to forget about her and move on with my life like I do after every other hookup. But this wasn’t just a hookup.

We were never dating, yet it feels like I just got dumped. But I’m going to see this as a good thing. I wanted an explanation. I got it. I wanted to make sure she’s okay. She is (sort of). This is the closure I came here for, I guess. So, now that all has been said and done, I can go home. Alone. Just like I planned.

I climb back into my car and begin the twenty-minute drive back home. About halfway into the trip, I get another stupid idea. This is it, though. Last time. One more act of impulsiveness and then I’ll say goodbye to this life of bad decisions and go back to having wild sex with random women I meet at bars.

I pull up and park in front of a drugstore, then walk inside. She doesn’t have money for meds, so I’m just going to get some over-the-counter pills to help settle her nausea, and that will be the end of that.

I walk over to the guy at the counter. “Hi...” I look down at his nametag. “...Tyrese.”

“Good evening, sir. How may I be of assistance?”

“A friend of mine has been suffering with nausea. Can I get some Pepto-Bismol or something that can help?”

“Sure. Come with me.”

He walks around the counter, and I follow him to the third aisle. Bending slightly, he scans the middle shelf. “Okay, we got Tums, Maalox—”

“Those are antacids, right? I think she needs something stronger. This isn’t indigestion. I think there’s actual vomit involved, and she’s been feeling like this for about two weeks.”

His head snaps up to look at me. “Two weeks! Dayum!” The fact that his professional demeanor disappeared so suddenly makes me realize this may be more serious than I thought. “Bad sushi doesn’t even last that long. Has she seen a doctor?”

“No.”

“Well, she needs to. Two weeks is cause for concern. She needs medical attention.”

With every word, my anxiousness builds. “She’s not going to let me take her. She’s...stubborn.”

“Women.” He rolls his eyes. “What are her other symptoms? Does she have a fever?”

“Um...I’m not sure. I don’t think so. She was a bit pale, but all she said was that she was nauseous and exhausted. I don’t know if the latter is from her condition...or just life. What do you think it might be?”

“It could be a variety of things. It could be gastrointestinal issues, bacterial infections, allergies. But then she would have a fever.” He scratches his head and mulls it over some more. “It could be something more serious, like gallbladder problems or issues with the liver or pancreas. But you said she was tired, so it could just be...” He thinks it over for a second, then walks me over to the next aisle. After a quick check, he hands me a bottle of Emetrol. “I think you need this.” We leave that aisle and walk back to the shelves at the front of the store. “And these.” He picks out four different pregnancy tests and hands them to me.

“Woah, woah, woah. Tyrese, what the hell is all this?” I look down at all the products in my hands and even Emetrol is for the relief of morning sickness.

He returns to his spot behind the counter. “Tell her to take the tests. All of them because if it’s too early, it might give a false negative. If she’s not pregnant, the Emetrol will still help for maybe a day or two. But if she’s not pregnant, Emetrol is not a cure. You still need to take her to a doctor.”

My brain switches off. I don’t remember paying. I don’t remember getting into my car. I don’t remember driving back to the motel. I sit there in the parking lot, staring blankly at the steering wheel. The weight of the world is crushing down on my shoulders. Either outcome is bad here. She could potentially have serious gallbladder or gastrointestinal issues...or she could be pregnant.

Fuck, what if she’s pregnant? What will I do?

No, she’s not pregnant. We were always safe. We always used a condom.

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