I could kiss him for changing the subject. This is safe territory. I can handle work.
"Yes, we—" I choke a little as a wave of nausea hits me again and I’m not prepared for it. I swallow hard because if I don’t, I’m going to throw up. I breathe through my nose, willing it to pass. It does not, but I get my shit together enough to finish my earlier sentence. "We should lead with the seasonal rotation plan. Henderson wants flexibility with their limited releases."
Kieran narrows his eyes. "You look like shit again. You just got all pale and sweaty."
"Wow, thanks."
He grins, but then it drops off his face. "Maybe you should go home. I can handle Henderson."
"I'm fine," I insist, even as my stomach rumbles out a warning and minty acid climbs up the back of my throat. Turns out that peppermint tea was a bad idea. "I just need a minute."
And about twenty-five Tums and maybe some Dramamine.
Or a nap. Yeah, I could really go for a nap.
Though it’s looking more and more like I’ll get to take it on the floor in front of the toilet.
He opens his mouth to argue, but I’ve already lost the battle and I jump up, shoving my chair out of the way and making a desperate dash for the bathroom. This time, I do puke on my shoes.
Ugh.
When I finally stumble from the stall, my assistant is waiting with a paper towel and an expression that says he's reached his limit on my bullshit for the day.
"Yeah," he says, handing me the towel. "You're going home. Now."
I start to protest, but another wave of dizziness sweeps over me, and I have to grab the sink to stay upright. Kieran grabs my arm, holding me steady while I rinse out my mouth.
"I’m not asking, boss," he says firmly. "Either you take yourself home, or I’ll take you. Better yet, take your ass straight to the doctor."
For once, I don't have the energy to fight, but I give it my best shot anyway. "The Henderson meeting?—"
"I already told you I'd handle it."
I nod, hating how weak I feel. This isn't me. I don't get sick. I don't take days off. I don't let anything interfere with the business I've built from nothing.
"Fine," I give in because really I don’t have any other choice. "But I'll be back tomorrow."
"We’ll see," Kieran says, already pulling out his phone to order the car.
I want to argue but I can’t, so I guess that’s tomorrow’s problem. Hopefully by then this food poisoning or whatever will finally be out of my system.
The ride home is a blur. I curl up in the back seat of the rideshare, trying to ignore the bubbling, gurgling mess of my stomach and the thoughts racing through my head. It's just astomach bug. Or food poisoning. Or stress. Maybe a disgusting trifecta of all three.
It has to be.
But as the car pulls up to my apartment building, a different explanation—one I've been refusing to acknowledge in any way—pushes its way to the forefront of my mind.
I haven’t had my period since before Vegas.
It’s been… two months-ish?
What if this is something far,farworse than bad sushi?
"Fuck," I whisper, fumbling with my keys at the door. I drop them twice before I finally manage to unlock it.
Inside my apartment, I drop my bag on the counter and head straight for the bathroom. I dig through the cabinet under the sink, searching for the emergency pregnancy test I bought last year after a condom broke with a guy I met off an app for a hookup. I never needed to use it.
Not until today.
