“Merry Christmas, beautiful,” he said.
“Merry Christmas.” She got up and turned to brush a kiss on his lips. “I’m going to go take a shower.”
“Okay.” He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. “I’ll get in after you’re done.”
She went into the bathroom and closed the door, then turned on the shower. She was waiting for the water to heat up when a sudden, overwhelming burst of nausea hit her out of nowhere. She was shocked when she threw up, then held on to the counter when she stood, feeling weak, shaky, and utterly bewildered.
She brushed her teeth, rinsed her mouth, and climbed into the shower, ready to dash out just in case it happened again. But she managed to make it through her shower without incident.
When she got out, she wondered what the hell had just happened.
Surely . . .
No. It couldn’t be, could it? She counted back weeks. She’d had a period . . . sort of. Maybe a day, and it was light, which wasn’t like her, but she’d figured it was stress. In a hurry, her fingers shaking, she dove into the cabinet for the store of pregnancy tests she kept on hand. She ripped open the package, wondering whether or not to even attempt it. If it wasn’t what she thought, she’d end up with the worst Christmas ever.
But she’d drive herself crazy wondering, so she might as well get it over with. She peed on the stick and set the timer on her phone she’d left on the bathroom counter last night, hoping Gavin wouldn’t walk in on her. To be on the safe side, she locked the door. This way, only she’d be disappointed, and he’d never know.
It was the longest few minutes of her life. She combed out her hair and tried to still her shaking limbs, no doubt an aftereffect of her recent illness.
She probably had the goddamn flu, and she was going to kick herself for even thinking otherwise.
The timer ran out. She looked over at the stick, not wanting to turn it over, a year’s worth of disappointment a reminder of what was likely to happen.
Just do it, Liz. You’re not a coward, and you’ll deal with it, just like you’ve been dealing with it before.
She took a deep breath, and turned the stick over.
Pregnant.
Holy. Shit.
“Holy shit!”
“Liz? You okay in there?”
She looked at herself in the mirror, and grinned. The nausea and dizziness she’d felt the night of the wedding, her dress feeling too tight, and this morning’s barf-o-rama. It all made sense now. She was pregnant. Thank you God, she was pregnant.
She grabbed the stick and threw open the bathroom door and ran into the bedroom, then leaped on the bed.
“Gavin, we’re pregnant!”
He shot up in bed. “What?”
“Look!” She handed him the stick.
He looked at it, then at her, his eyes wide. “Holy shit.”
“That’s what I said.”
And then he grinned. “We’re pregnant, babe.”
And she grinned back. “I know.”
He pulled her across his lap and kissed her—a long, glorious, we’re-pregnant kiss that curled her toes and caused tears to prick her eyes. When he pulled back, he looked at her. “Our baby is going to look just like you.”
“Or just like you.”
“I love you, Elizabeth Riley.”
“I love you too, Gavin Riley.”
“We have to get through Christmas now.”
“Oh, shit. That’s right. I don’t even care anymore. This is the best day ever.”
He laughed. “Yes, it is.”
She leaped off the bed. “I have to get dressed. And you have to take a shower.”
He got out of bed. “Okay.” And then he stopped and turned to her. “How did you know to take a test this morning?”
“I threw up.”
He grinned. “Awesome.”
***
True to his word, Gavin helped her with the food prep. Which was good, because oh, she was sick. After her initial euphoria faded, the nausea returned. And being surrounded by food didn’t help.
Despite her protests, Gavin called in his mother and his aunt for help. He told them Liz was under the weather and the last thing she needed was to be surrounded by food. They both showed up within an hour and Gavin, his mom, and his aunt basically took over her kitchen. Under normal circumstances, she’d have vehemently objected, but after throwing up all morning, she was more than happy to surrender her kitchen to all of them while she headed upstairs to lie down.
After a two-hour nap she felt a lot better, and when she got up, the nausea was gone. She came downstairs and inhaled some wonderful scents emanating from her kitchen.
“It smells so good in here,” she said.
Her mother-in-law smiled at her. “Oh, you’re awake. And there’s some color in your cheeks now. How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you. Where’s Gavin?”
“He’s over at my house picking up Dad. No sense in us having two cars.”
“Thank you both for helping out. I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to handle this.”
“It’s tough when you’re in your first trimester. The smell of food is an awful trigger,” Gavin’s aunt said.