Page 103 of People We Meet on Vacation

I know he’s joking around, but it irks me, feeling like they’re united against me.

I think about saying,Why do you think that? Because I’m a narcissist who’s willing to do anything to get famous?

Alex bumps his leg into mine under the table, and when I glance at him, he’s not even looking my way. He’s just reminding me that he’s here, that nothing can really hurt me.

I bite down on my words and let it go. “More wine?”

The next night, we eat a long, late dinner out on the terrace. When I go inside to dish up gelato for dessert, I find Alex standing in the kitchen, reading an email.

He has just gotten word that Tin House accepted one of hisstories. He looks so happy, so brilliantly himself, that I sneak a picture of him. I love it so much I would probably set it as my background if both of us were single and that wasn’t extremely weird for both Sarah and Trey.

We decide we have to celebrate (as if that isn’t what this whole trip has been), and Trey makes us mojitos and we sit out on the chaise lounges overlooking the valley, listening to the soft, twinkly sounds of nighttime in the countryside.

I barely sip on my drink. I’ve been nauseated all night, and for the first time, I excuse myself to go to sleep long before the others. Trey climbs into bed hours later, tipsy and kissing on my neck, pulling on me, and after we have sex, he falls asleep immediately, and my nausea comes back.

That’s when it occurs to me.

I was supposed to start my period at some point on this trip.

Probably it’s a fluke. There are a lot of reasons to wind up nauseated while traveling internationally. And Trey and I are fairly careful.

Still, I get out of bed, stomach roiling, and tiptoe downstairs, opening my notes app to see when I was expecting my period. Rachel’s constantly telling me to get this period tracker app, but until now I haven’t really seen the point.

My ears are pounding. My heart is racing. My tongue feels too big for my mouth.

I was supposed to start yesterday. A two-day delay isn’t unheard-of. Nausea after drinking buckets of red wine isn’t either. Especially for a migraineur. But still, I’m freaking out.

I grab my jacket off the coatrack, stuff my feet into sandals, and take the rental car keys. The nearest twenty-four-hour grocery store is thirty-eight minutes away. I make it back to the villa with three different pregnancy tests before the sun has even started to rise.

By then I’m in a full-blown panic. All I can do is pace back andforth on the terrace, gripping the most expensive pregnancy test in one hand and reminding myself to inhale, exhale, inhale. My lungs feel worse than they did when I had pneumonia.

“Couldn’t sleep?” A quiet voice startles me. Alex is leaned against the open door in a pair of black shorts and running shoes, his pale body cast blue by the predawn.

A laugh dies in my throat. I’m not sure why. “Are you getting up to run?”

“It’s cooler before the sun’s up.”

I nod, wrap my arms around myself, and turn back to gaze over the valley. Alex comes to stand beside me, and without looking over at him, I start to cry. He reaches out for my hand and unfurls it to see the pregnancy test clenched there.

For ten seconds, he is silent. We are both silent.

“Have you taken one yet?” he asks softly.

I shake my head and start to cry harder. He pulls me in, wraps his arms around my back as I let my breath out in a few rushes of quiet sobs. It eases some of the pressure, and I draw back from him, wiping my eyes with the heels of my hands.

“What am I going to do, Alex?” I ask him. “If I’m... What the hell am I supposed to do?”

He studies my face for a long time. “What do you want to do?”

I wipe at my eyes again. “I don’t think Trey wants to have kids.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Alex murmurs.

“I have no idea what I want,” I admit. “I mean, I want to be with him. And maybe someday... I don’t know. I don’t know.” I bury my face in my hands as a few more ugly, soundless sobs work out of me. “I’m not strong enough to do that on my own. I can’t. I couldn’t even handle being sick by myself, Alex. How am I supposed to...”

He takes my wrists gently and pulls them away from my face,ducking his head to peer into my eyes. “Poppy,” he says. “You won’t be alone, okay? I’m here.”

“So, what?” I say. “I’d, like, move to Indiana? Get an apartment next door to you and Sarah? How’sthatgoing to work, Alex?”

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