“Order up!”
“Well, I should let you go. Good to see you’re doing well, Grayson.” Rose nods at me. “Serena.”
Finally, we move past her and she walks up to the counter to place her order. Dear God, please don’t let her come sit with us.
Gray leads me to a table in the corner. “You all right, buttercup?” he asks in a low voice.
“Sure. Yeah, of course.” Too bad I can’t keep my voice steady.
He pulls out a chair for me and I drop into it.
“You need anything else while I’m up there?” he asks.
“Napkins.” I lift my milkshake. “Somehow I’ll end up spilling this all over myself.”
“You got it.” He leans down and presses a quick kiss against my forehead.
My back’s toward the counter and I don’t bother turning around to see if Gray and Rose share some chitchat. I’m secure enough in our relationship not to feel threatened by her.
Instead, I suck down my milkshake so fast, my brain freezes and my stomach cramps.
“Ugh.”
Gray returns and sets three cups on the table. I grab one of the smaller ones that looks like the butter pecan and, queasy stomach or not, take a sip.
“How is it?” he asks as he stabs his straw into the lid of the largest cup.
“Perfect,” I mumble.
“Sorry about that. I never expected…” his gaze shifts to somewhere behind me. “To run into Rose. I haven’t thought about…”
I’m on the edge of my seat, waiting for him to finish that sentence. “What?” I prompt.
One corner of his mouth curls into a pained smile. “I haven’t thought about her since the day I saw her.” He gestures toward the parking lot. “But we’re not far from where she lives.”
“Me and my impatient bladder,” I mutter into my milkshake. Wait, did he say he hasn’t thought about her at all?
“You haven’t thought about her even once?”
“Except for whatever questions you’ve asked me…” This time his smile warms his whole face and he rests his hand over mine. “I’ve been too consumed with someone else to linger on the past.”
“Oh.” My jaw hangs slack as I process his words.
“There’s no room for anyone else in here, buttercup.” He taps his chest, over his heart.
Too emotional to respond with words, I wrap my fingers around his and squeeze.
Still holding hands, we return to sipping our shakes. At least for a few seconds.
“Ugh.” I set my cup on the table and clutch my stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Gray frowns and bangs his cup on the table.
“I might have ingested too much cold stuff too fast.” Another icky sensation slithers through my stomach. “Uh-oh.”
“What do you need?”
I push myself away from the table. “Bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
Everything I pass as I speed-walk to the restroom is a blur. I narrowly miss bumping into a family with what seems like fifteen unruly children. I make it to a toilet just in time to lean over and heave. I refuse to kneel on the dirty bathroom floor so it’s painful and damn near impossible not to puke all over myself.
Cold, clammy sweat bursts over my skin and I whimper, hating how horrible I feel.
Finally, the tumbling in my stomach stops. I clean myself and stumble out of the stall. The sinks look so far away. I lurch over to them and turn the cold water on full blast, practically sticking my whole head under the powerful burst of cool, liquid relief to rinse out my mouth. The awful taste seems to cling for far too long.
I don’t know how long I’m standing there bent over with my head craned under the faucet, but I finally straighten and run my hands and wrists under the water as well. A ghost stares back at me in the mirror. Jeez. My skin’s so pale. Dark circles ring under my eyes. Well, at least none of my YouTube followers will recognize me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement behind me.
Rose.
Damn.
“Are you okay, Serena?” she asks softly.
“Not really.” I twist the tap off.
Rose gathers a handful of paper towels and brings them to me. Even though I’m a few inches taller than her, she dabs one of the towels against my forehead in a kind, motherly sort of way.
“How far along are you?” she asks.
Her voice is barely above a whisper but it crashes around the tiled walls like a bowling ball.
“A couple of months.” I run my hand over my dress. God, I hope I didn’t puke on it. I’m barely even showing but she noticed right away.
“The milkshakes.” She flashes a kind smile. “The sickness. I remember very well what that was like.”
“Oh.”
“Gray seems happy.”
Heat explodes over my cheeks. She’s going right for it, isn’t she? I shift my gaze to my shoes. “I hope so.”
“Have you been seeing each other long?”
“No,” I whisper. For some reason I’m even more embarrassed admitting that. But it’s not like she isn’t aware that he was recently released from prison. “We didn’t….this wasn’t planned.”