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“Ah shit. There’s not much you can take for that either, I’m guessing.”
I shake my head and instantly regret it. “Just paracetamol.”
“Looks like it’s quieting down now. Why don’t you head home early?”
“One of these days I’m going to get fired for leaving early.”
Jack walks up to me with a glass of water and shoves it in my hand. “Drink this, then head home. You look like shit.”
“Jack!” Stacey says, exasperated. “Don’t tell her she looks like shit.”
“Am I lying?”
“Do not make me come around this bar and kick your ass.”
“I’m terrified. Truly.”
She flips him off as he blows her a kiss. I focus on sipping the water and not dropping the glass. I’ve been feeling off for the last few days and hoped it was just a bug that would pass quickly. But now I wonder if it might be the start of the flu, which is something I could really do without right now.
“Drink that while I go grab your stuff and call you a taxi.”
“I can—”
“Sit and do as I say. Good girl.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but even that hurts, so I park my ass in the nearest seat and do what she asks.
The urge to slip my shoes off and rest my feet on the opposite chair rides me hard, but I doubt the customers would be inclined to order drinks if they caught a look at the size of my ankles and feet, and I’d rather not put paying customers off their drinks if I can help it. I sip the water, feeling sick and exhausted. I thought I was supposed to be feeling better by now, but apparently the second trimester was destined to be just as shitty as the first. Here’s hoping the third will be better. If this is what it’s like to carry a baby at my age, I’m almost glad I had my other two when I was young.
The rest helps a little, but by the time Stacey tells me the taxi is here, I’m more than happy to leave. I feel like I could sleep for a week. Stacey wraps her arms around me before helping me into the car like I’m a little old lady.
I grin even though I know it shows how tired I am. “Have I told you how awesome you are lately?”
“You have, but a girl can never hear that too much. In fact, I’m thinking of getting it printed on a T-shirt or something. It’s one way to make sure Jessie never forgets.”
“Please, Jessie knows exactly how awesome you are.”
“Yeah, I know.” She laughs, closing the door and blowing me a kiss.
I watch her through the window as the car pulls away from the curb, grateful for a friend like her. I feel bad that when she first tried to make friends, I brushed her off, thinking we’d have nothing in common, what with the age gap and all. She proved me wrong. Hell, in a lot of ways, she is far more mature than I am.
I lean back and close my eyes, the harsh neon lights of the brightly lit city streets playing havoc on my head. I place both hands on my belly and find comfort in the little kick I get in response. I let my mind drift away, my thoughts slipping to Lick as they often do. Even though it’s been weeks, I swear I can still smell him on my damn skin. It makes me want to hold him close and punch him in that stupidly handsome face of his.
When that passes, I just feel sad. Sad that it had to end this way, sad that I saw it coming and still did nothing to protect myself. Worse, I’m sad that even now, after everything, I still miss him, and us, or at least the promise of all that we could have been.
When the taxi slows, I realize I’m home. I try to pay, but he waves me off. “It’s already been paid for, love.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you.”
He waits for me to climb out and close the door before pulling away. I walk towards the flats, which feel like they’re a mile away, using the promise of my bed as an incentive to keep putting one foot in front of the other when all I want to do is curl up in a little ball. It feels like it takes me forever to make it up the stairs. My hand is shaking so badly that by the time I have my keys out, it takes me three attempts to get them in the door. When I finally do, I whimper in relief, shoving the door open and closing it behind me with a whimper. I drop my bag to the floor before slipping out of my jacket and leaving it on the ground. I kick off my shoes and then stumble to the bedroom. I collapse on the bed as my vision blurs.
I wish I had the strength to get a cold compress for my head, but that’s not an option right now. In fact, the only thing I’m capable of doing is passing out.
Banging brings me out of my restless sleep, but I only have the strength to roll over and crack my eyes open. The clock shows it’s a little after ten am. When the banging persists, I drag the pillow and try to shove it over my head, but the sudden movement makes me cry out when my head feels like it’s going to explode.
I hear the door slam open and remember distantly that I forgot to lock it last night. But I can’t summon the fear that I might be about to be butchered by some serial killer. Not when it feels like I’m already dying.
“Mum?”
