I raise my hands. “You got it. Consider them gone.”
“I’ll go up and brush my teeth while you get rid of them. I don’t want to get sick again. I hate throwing up.”
“Is there something you think you can eat?” I ask pleadingly, knowing she needs to eat something.
She shrugs. “Toast with butter maybe? I’m not sure I can keep much down—I don’t know if that’s actually morning sickness, or just sickness from all of this.” She waves her hand through the air.
“Toast,” I repeat. “I can do that.”
“Thank you.” She gives me a small, sad smile, and pushes by me to go upstairs.
I get rid of the eggs. As much as I’d like an omelet for myself, I don’t want to risk her getting sick again.
I put a piece of bread in the toaster for her and make a bowl of cheerios for myself.
The bread pops up out of the toaster as she comes down the stairs. I put it on a plate and set out the butter so she can put it on.
She slides onto one of the barstools and I hand her a knife before I sit down beside her.
She butters her toast and takes a small hesitant bite.
She chews slowly and swallows.
“Think you can keep it down?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah, I think so.”
She takes another bite, bigger this time.
She manages to eat the whole piece of toast. I wish she’d eat m
ore, but I know better than to push my luck.
I finish my cereal and rinse the bowl out before putting it in the dishwasher.
“What do you want to do today?” I ask her.
We have a little more unpacking to do, but there really isn’t that much. We actually need to go shopping to get things, but I’m a bit scared to use that word with Thea. I know if I broach the idea we’ll be gone all day.
“I want to wallow.”
I lean across the counter to her. “This isn’t the end of the world, sweetheart.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to carry the baby for nine months. You have a job—a career—that you love, and I’m an incubator.”
I try not to laugh, but it’s futile, she’s not amused, though.
“I’m serious.” She glares at me for laughing.
“It won’t be as bad as you think. We’re going to have a son or daughter, Thea. A little person that’s half me and half you. Think about how amazing that is.”
“Yeah, a little person that’s going to scream, eat, and poop non-stop for the first year. Then it’ll start walking and talking, and our lives will truly be over.” She blows out a breath and it stirs the hair around her face.
I reach out and cover her hand in mine. “I know that this baby is going to change our lives, I’m not stupid, but I also think it’s going to better us.”
“How?” she asks, her lower lip pouting out a bit. I don’t think she even means to do it, and I can’t stop myself from rubbing my thumb over it.
“I think this baby is going to teach us to be more humble and responsible people.”