He stroked my hair, then stood up to walk over to the windows and pulled the curtains closed.
A moment later, he pressed a kiss to my cheek. Then he was gone.
My eyes opened in the darkened room, and when I turned my head to look for the alarm clock, my neck stiffened under the weight of my twisted sleeping position. How long had I been asleep?
“Jack?”
I moved my arm and the sound of paper crinkling drew my attention toward a piece of paper lying on the bedspread. It was a note from Jack.
Didn’t want to wake you. I hope you feel better. Your tickets are at will-call, but please don’t come if you don’t feel good. I mean it, Kitten. If you feel like shit, stay here! I’ll be back before you know it.
Determined to attend his game, I pushed myself to my feet. My head spun and I pressed my hand against the wall for balance. I needed water, and I knew Jack’s mini fridge would be filled with it.
Opening a bottle, I took a sip before immediately bolting to the bathroom. The water I’d just swallowed came surging back up with a vengeance. Okay, I was definitely sick. There was no way I could go to the game like this; I’d never make it through a single inning.
Reaching for my cell phone, I typed out a message to Jack, letting him know I wouldn’t be at the game. He wouldn’t get to read it until after, but at least he’d know not to look for me and would come straight back to the hotel. Hopefully by then I’d be feeling better.
I set my phone on the bed beside me just as it rang. Melissa’s singsong ringtone filled the room and I pressed OKAY to answer the call.
“Hey, girly,” I whined into the phone line.
“Holy shit, you sound like death. Where are you?” Her chipper tone was almost too much for me to take in my current state.
“I’m in Seattle with Jack. Where are you?”
“Uh,” she stuttered. “I’m at home. Where else would I be?”
I reached for a pillow and tucked it in front of my hips and tummy. Leaning my body against the coolness of the pillowcase helped settle my upset belly. “I don’t know. So, what’s up?”
“Why do you sound so bad? Are you sick?”
“I think so. My stomach is killing me and I threw up right before you called.”
“Pregnant,” she stated in her typical teasing tone, but something in that one word caused my breath to hitch.
When the hell was the last time I had my period? Was it over a month ago? I can’t remember.
“Cass?” Melissa’s voice rang in my ear.
“Sorry, I’m here. Shit, Meli, you might be right.”
“I was totally joking.”
Intrigued by the idea, I sat up and leaned back against the plush headboard. “I know you were, but I’ve been really tired lately. Not to mention, stupid emotional. Like, I cry at everything!” I complained.
“Everything?” she droned, mocking my confession.
“Everything!” I said forcefully. “Commercials. A fucking tissue commercial wrecked me the other day. I had to go to bed to stop thinking about it.”
Melissa laughed hysterically on the other end of the line. I wanted to reach through the phone and smack her. “Oh, holy shit. You totally are pregnant.”
“Meli, I have to go. I’ll call you back.” I hung up before she could respond and forced myself out of bed.
I needed to find a drugstore of some sort and buy some home pregnancy tests. Unless the hotel sold them, which I highly doubted. And the last thing I wanted was to run into a player’s wife or girlfriend while I was buying something like that.
Like an idiot, I talked to my stomach, telling it to settle down enough to let me find a store. And then I promised it that if it let me not be sick until I got back to the hotel room, I’d let it make me sick all night if it wanted. I really needed to be able to find a store, buy some tests, and not puke while doing it.
Luck was definitely on my side because there was a drugstore right across the street from the hotel. I’d never purchased a pregnancy test before, so was surprised to find an entire aisle filled with shelves of them. I decided right then and there that there was definitely such a thing as too many options. There were plus signs, pink or blue, one line or two, yes or no, results before your first missed period or after, and more. My head spun and I had no idea which one was the best to buy. So I purchased four.
I raced back to the hotel, my ridiculous amount of pregnancy tests stuffed into a paper bag. Closing the door behind me, I removed the first box. I read the directions twice before attempting to follow them. The first time, instead of peeing on the damn stick, I peed all over my fingers. I wondered what kind of woman could control the direction of her pee the way the directions seemed to expect we could.