“Sorry, Shannon, but can I have a few minutes alone with my girlfriend?”
Shannon looks to me for confirmation, and I nod in answer. She squeezes my shoulder and heads into the house.
Trent closes the distance between us, his hand extended. I slip my fingers between his, and he molds my body against his. “I love you,” he says against my lips. “I wasn’t planning to tell you right after… this. But that’s how I feel. I love you, Jemma with a J. You’ve had me wrapped around your finger from the second we met. No matter what happens, I’m here for you, okay? We’ll get through this together.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “I love you, too.”
“Again, I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t process what you were telling me. It was like I had a concussion and couldn’t concentrate. Nothing you said made any sense to me… except for you and me. We make sense. And I can’t lose you.”
I stand on my tiptoes to kiss his lips. “You have me… and this baby.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jemma
Trent walks with me to the health center on campus. He grips my hand tighter as we walk down the long hallway. We haven’t spoken more than a few words, both of us so nervous we can’t think straight.
He opens the doctor’s door, and I suck in a deep breath.
This is it.
The moment of truth.
A few days ago, Trent sat beside me while the nurse drew my blood. The smell and sight of my blood turned my stomach. My sense of smell and taste is so heightened I feel like I’m a vampire. Except for the vomiting, which I seem to do a lot lately.
“After you,” Trent says as he holds open the door for me.
I step into the crowded clinic. Most of the chairs are occupied by students, some of whom look like they’ve been to hell and back again. Snotty tissues are on the table before a blond girl with blotchy cheeks and puffy eyes. A boy a few chairs over from her sneezes uncontrollably into his hands.
Everyone is getting sick with the flu the last few weeks, so I keep my distance from them. I have enough problems at the moment.
The nurse at the front desk spins around in her chair. She pushes a clipboard in front of me along with a pen. “Sign in.”
I do as she asks, and then she looks at the paper for my name. She scrolls through the computer, clicks a few buttons, and says, “Have a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly.”
We find two open chairs along the wall closest to the door. Trent moves my hand to his lap and squeezes it. Despite his initial reaction, he’s been supportive over the past few days. Trent has been by my side, giving me massages and holding my hair when I have to puke again. I hate that he has to see me like this, but from what I read online, it will only get worse before it gets better.
“You can do this,” Trent assures me. “No matter what the doctor says, we will figure this out. Our lives don’t have to end because of a baby.”
Trent was worried about college and our careers, but he’s determined to find a way to have everything. He’s right. People have kids every day without having to give up their dreams. Although, Trent’s dreams are more ambitious than mine and will take him away from home for extended periods. But we can adapt.
Ten minutes pass before a nurse dressed in dark blue scrubs opens the door to my right and calls my name. The tiny hairs on my arms stand at attention, nervous energy coursing through my veins.
Trent squeezes my hand and assures me everything will be okay. I smile while doing everything I can to keep my shit together. We follow the nurse through the door and down a long hallway. She enters the last room on the right and instructs me to sit on the examination table.
Trent sits on the chair beside the table as she takes my vitals. The silence in the room makes my heart beat faster, the sound so loud I can hear it ringing in my ears. After she makes a few notes in my chart, she tells me the doctor will be with me shortly and exits the room.
A wave of nausea sweeps over me. My stomach churns like a tornado, the food I had eaten earlier ready to reappear. I lean forward, my elbows resting on my thighs.
“You okay, Jem?”
“I feel like I’m going to puke. I haven’t felt this sick since I had the flu in high school.”
Trent hops out of his chair and stands at my side. He extends his hand to me, which I take with a smile. His fingers brush mine, the soothing motions putting me at ease. I close my eyes, attempting to fight the sickness brewing inside me. Sometimes, it goes away. But most of the time, I end up living next to the toilet until I can get the morning sickness under control.
I open my eyes, staring up at Trent. “It passed… for now.”
“I wish there were something I could do,” he whispers, his eyes downcast.
