“I need to eat my breakfast.” I shove a giant bite into my mouth. It’s a bad idea. The sudden wave of nausea hits out of nowhere. “Oh God,” I say with a mouth full of food, pushing Z out of the way. Thankfully he doesn’t hold me in place, a new habit of his that turns me on when it should piss me off.
He lets me rush past him and straight into my bedroom's bathroom, where I throw up. Z is right there, holding my hair, his arm slipping around to support me as I lose the rest of my breakfast.
“It’s okay, let it out,” he says encouragingly. His words are laced with worry.
“This is your fault,” I mutter when I think I’m done.
“I’ll take omelets off the breakfast list.” Z turns on the water, wetting a cloth for me. He presses it to my mouth. “Better?” I nod. He grabs my toothbrush for me, putting paste on it.
I have gone from Z and me fighting all the time and avoiding each other to him being my shadow and treating me as though I’m a delicate flower.
“I’m going to call the doctor.”
“The doctor?”
“There is only one with a practice in town.”
“And you already know who that is?”
“We’ve been in contact.” he shrugs. Well, then.
“I don’t need a doctor. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, and you will be seeing a doctor.” The finality of his words leaves no room for argument, but when has that ever stopped me?
“Like I said, I don’t need a doctor.” I push back.
“Didn’t ask you what you needed.” I narrow my eyes on him, feeling my emotions starting to bubble up inside of me. Two seconds ago, I was enjoying him taking care of me and now because I’m scared of what kind of reaction he’s going to have when he finds out I’m pregnant, it’s not so appealing anymore.
“Don’t be a dick.”
“I’ll be whatever I have to when it comes to taking care of you.”
Gah, he makes it hard to be mad at him when he’s being a sweet, bossy asshole. My eyes start to fill with tears. If I thought I was emotional before, this is a whole new level unlocked.
“Baby.” I push myself into him, burying my face in his chest. The smell and feel of him calming me. “Everything is okay.” He keeps me pressed tight against him. I feel delicate and small in his hold.
“What if it’s not okay? What if it’s bad?” I mumble into his chest. Z must speak Cosima well because he understands what I said.
“We’ll handle it together.”
“What if you don’t want to handle it?” I drop my head back to peer up at him. I have no clue how Z might take this information. He’s never talked about what he wants out of life when it comes to things such as marriage and babies.
"Babe, if you're involved, I will be handling it." His eyes search my face. "Cosima, you used to get pissy with how much I've handled things in your life, and now you suddenly think I would be different?" I sniff. He has a point. I bury my face in his chest again and take a deep breath. I shake my head back and forth. "I know you're using me as a tissue." I snort a laugh, totally busted.
"Okay." I huff a breath. "I think I'm pregnant." I just say it. There is no point in drawing it out. His whole body goes rock solid. "See, you're freaking out." I try to step back, but in Z fashion, his hand cups the back of my neck so that I can't go anywhere. I hate how hot that is.
“We need a test.” That’s not really a response to me pointing out that he is freaking out.
“I have a test, or Marks did. She got it yesterday.”
“When you went to town and she went into the store while you sat on the bench.” Well, then. He would have already been in the villa at that point. I would laugh if not for the tension I'm feeling inside of me.
"Yeah, she picked it up."
"Where is it?" he asks but is already heading out of my room and toward the one she was staying in. I follow after him. "Do you know where she put it?" Z starts pulling open drawers. I stand there and watch him rummaging through everything. He’s one thousand percent freaking out. “Cosima.” He turns to faceme. “Shit,” he mutters when he sees my face. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Then why are you freaking out? It’s freaking me out more!”
