check on me, but I wasn’t either of those things.
Because if I was remembering correctly, I was late .
And I was going to be sick.
“ D IDN’T REALIZE YOU were that pissed. You must be a real lightweight.”
Rowland and Graham were waiting when I got out of the bathroom, and I didn’t know whether I wanted to find Garrick or avoid him, whether I wanted to scream or cry or throw up some more.
“I just . . . I need to sit down for a bit.”
“We’ll go in the sitting room,” Graham said.
Damn it. This place would have a fucking sitting room. My parents were proud of their newly remodeled bathroom, and this place was practically a palace.
And the room was even nicer in real life than in my imagination. It was much more chic than the Pride and Prejudice –era room I had pictured. And there were people milling around, standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows and luxurious curtains. I found an empty cream-colored chaise lounge and collapsed onto it, too distressed to even worry about getting it dirty.
I could be remembering wrong. I hoped I was remembering wrong. But the last time I could recall being on my period had been that final week in Peter Pan . It’s why I forgot about the pill pack because we weren’t exactly in danger of getting pregnant then. And that was . . . what? Six weeks ago? Maybe five? Either way, it was more than a month. But sometimes people were late without being pregnant. That happened . . . right?
I could totally be jumping to conclusions.
Or there could be something growing inside of me.
God, that sounded so sci-fi movie.
What did I know about being a mom? What did I know about anything? I was a total mess. I couldn’t even do my own taxes, or survive an engagement party, or turn on a fucking light without breaking something. And I was supposed to grow and raise another human being?
My child would be so socially inept that it wouldn’t even be able to walk upright or speak in complete sentences or be around other people.
I would give birth to a hermit child.
Breathe. Breathe.
Damn it. That reminded me too much of Lamaze, and I felt sick again.
What if it turned out like Hamlet the devil cat and it hated me?
Shit. Shit .
I really just wanted to shout that word at the top of my lungs, but probably not the time and place.
“Is she okay?”
I opened my eyes to see a tall blonde, whose legs put mine to shame. She wore a short, black sheath dress with kick-ass turquoise heels, and there was basically a model standing over me as I panted and tried not to lose the remaining contents of my stomach.
Thanks, world. I appreciate it so much.
“Now is not a good time, Kayleigh,” Graham said.
“Did something happen? They didn’t break up, did they?”
Why did she sound hopeful?
Rowland spoke before I could, “No, she’s just not feeling well. We’ll find you later, Kayleigh.”
“Oh, okay. Well, feel better.”
I hated when people said that. Like I could just magically make that happen. Or like I didn’t already want that desperately. But gee, thanks for the recommendation.
When she was gone, I looked at Rowland. “Who was that?”
He looked at Graham, and maybe some of Mrs. Taylor’s perceptiveness rubbed off on me because I just had a feeling. “Is she an ex?”
“Ehh . . . umm . . . uhhh . . .”
This day could stop getting worse at any time. Any time now. Really.
“Why would his parents invite an ex to this?”
“Well, Kayleigh is a friend of the family. But we’re guessing that Eileen, Garrick’s mum, was keen on causing some problems because . . . well, Kayleigh’s not the only one.”
“Seriously? How many?”
Rowland looked at Graham again, and I was on the verge of strangling him. If I was pregnant, I could just blame it on the hormones. Call it temporary insanity.
“How many , Rowland?”
He scratched at his head. “Well, it’s not like I’ve counted .”
“Guess.”
“Man, did Eileen give you
Because if I was remembering correctly, I was late .
And I was going to be sick.
“ D IDN’T REALIZE YOU were that pissed. You must be a real lightweight.”
Rowland and Graham were waiting when I got out of the bathroom, and I didn’t know whether I wanted to find Garrick or avoid him, whether I wanted to scream or cry or throw up some more.
“I just . . . I need to sit down for a bit.”
“We’ll go in the sitting room,” Graham said.
Damn it. This place would have a fucking sitting room. My parents were proud of their newly remodeled bathroom, and this place was practically a palace.
And the room was even nicer in real life than in my imagination. It was much more chic than the Pride and Prejudice –era room I had pictured. And there were people milling around, standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows and luxurious curtains. I found an empty cream-colored chaise lounge and collapsed onto it, too distressed to even worry about getting it dirty.
I could be remembering wrong. I hoped I was remembering wrong. But the last time I could recall being on my period had been that final week in Peter Pan . It’s why I forgot about the pill pack because we weren’t exactly in danger of getting pregnant then. And that was . . . what? Six weeks ago? Maybe five? Either way, it was more than a month. But sometimes people were late without being pregnant. That happened . . . right?
I could totally be jumping to conclusions.
Or there could be something growing inside of me.
God, that sounded so sci-fi movie.
What did I know about being a mom? What did I know about anything? I was a total mess. I couldn’t even do my own taxes, or survive an engagement party, or turn on a fucking light without breaking something. And I was supposed to grow and raise another human being?
My child would be so socially inept that it wouldn’t even be able to walk upright or speak in complete sentences or be around other people.
I would give birth to a hermit child.
Breathe. Breathe.
Damn it. That reminded me too much of Lamaze, and I felt sick again.
What if it turned out like Hamlet the devil cat and it hated me?
Shit. Shit .
I really just wanted to shout that word at the top of my lungs, but probably not the time and place.
“Is she okay?”
I opened my eyes to see a tall blonde, whose legs put mine to shame. She wore a short, black sheath dress with kick-ass turquoise heels, and there was basically a model standing over me as I panted and tried not to lose the remaining contents of my stomach.
Thanks, world. I appreciate it so much.
“Now is not a good time, Kayleigh,” Graham said.
“Did something happen? They didn’t break up, did they?”
Why did she sound hopeful?
Rowland spoke before I could, “No, she’s just not feeling well. We’ll find you later, Kayleigh.”
“Oh, okay. Well, feel better.”
I hated when people said that. Like I could just magically make that happen. Or like I didn’t already want that desperately. But gee, thanks for the recommendation.
When she was gone, I looked at Rowland. “Who was that?”
He looked at Graham, and maybe some of Mrs. Taylor’s perceptiveness rubbed off on me because I just had a feeling. “Is she an ex?”
“Ehh . . . umm . . . uhhh . . .”
This day could stop getting worse at any time. Any time now. Really.
“Why would his parents invite an ex to this?”
“Well, Kayleigh is a friend of the family. But we’re guessing that Eileen, Garrick’s mum, was keen on causing some problems because . . . well, Kayleigh’s not the only one.”
“Seriously? How many?”
Rowland looked at Graham again, and I was on the verge of strangling him. If I was pregnant, I could just blame it on the hormones. Call it temporary insanity.
“How many , Rowland?”
He scratched at his head. “Well, it’s not like I’ve counted .”
“Guess.”
“Man, did Eileen give you
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