Page 68 of Single Chance

“She was suspicious,” I acknowledged. “We need to tell her the truth.”

“I know. I’m working up to it. That’ll be…humbling.” He frowned, and I understood what he meant.

We hadn’t done anything wrong. We were two consenting adults. But I could see how a one-night stand might seem like a poor example for his teenage daughter.

“I can be by your side when you tell her if you want me to. Or you can tell her in private. Whatever you think will go over better.”

He nodded once. “I’m not sure yet. Either way, it’s not going to go over well.”

“No. It needs to be soon though. It’s getting hard to button my jeans.”

His gaze darted down toward my middle even though we stood too close for him to see anything. There was something so intimate about the secret we shared, the knowledge that my body was changing because of him. Whether we ever kissed again, he’d made it clear we were in this together, through the good, bad, and ugly.

If his daughter found out I was pregnant before we told her, the situation could quickly turn ugly.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Rowan

Nausea hit me before I even opened my eyes the following Wednesday morning.

I lay there taking deep, even breaths, staving it off, wondering if I’d eaten something bad or if this was just today’s version of morning sickness. I’d had a couple days of feeling pretty decent upon waking. Maybe my body was catching up after that reprieve.

I reached for the box of oyster crackers I’d started keeping on my nightstand and groaned when I remembered it was empty. I’d forgotten to buy a new box.

Closing my eyes again, I lay back on my pillow and focused on my breathing. The minutes ticked by, meaning I’d have to hurry to get to work on time, but that seemed preferable to standing at the moment.

After several minutes of not moving a muscle other than to breathe, the icky feeling receded, not gone entirely, but enough that I thought I could make it to the shower.

I put my hair up so I wouldn’t have to dry and style it, then stepped under the hot water. As I soaped myself, I started to feel better still.

“I might make it through the day yet,” I said aloud as I dried off, still moving slowly, afraid of unsettling my gut again.

By the time I was dressed, the house was silent. Chance and Sam would’ve left a few minutes ago to get her to school on time.

After one more slow, settling breath, I grabbed my purse and bag and headed downstairs. I was halfway down the steps when the bacon smell hit me.

Normally I loved bacon, but today that smell… A tidal wave of nausea rolled through my gut.

I just needed to grab a couple of protein bars from the cabinet, stuff them in my bag, and get out of the house, away from the odor.

I breathed through my mouth, exaggerated and audible, as I hurried to the kitchen cabinet. Before I could get the bars out of the box, I dropped my bags and dashed to the bathroom.

As I was leaning over the toilet emptying my stomach, the door to the garage slammed shut.

“Rowan? Oh, my God, are you okay?” Sam asked from the doorway of the powder room.

With my elbow braced on the cold porcelain, my hand supporting my forehead, I attempted a yes, but even I could hear it wasn’t convincing. I retched again, mortified to have an audience but unable to stop it.

My eyes filled with tears, and I felt like an alien had taken control of my body.

Behind me, I heard Sam gagging as she backed away from the doorway.

“Sorry, Rowan,” she called. A few seconds later, as I wiped my mouth with a piece of toilet paper, Sam’s voice was backin the doorway but muffled, like she’d pulled her shirt over her face. “Do you want me to get my dad?”

I shook my head, sitting up straighter, testing myself. I felt marginally better now that I’d apparently purged everything in my gut. “No,” I managed. “I’m fine.”

“That didn’t seem fine.”

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