“Sure, I might vomit on you though,” I reply, my sarcasm slipping in.
“Just kidding. Jan’s arrived, and she says she’s making you some chicken soup.”
“That’s sweet of her.”Two people fussing, great...
“You know what?” says Dylan, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“What?”
“Maybe you’re pregnant?”
I smile. “We’ve had this conversation every month, haven’t we? Dodgy food, not a baby. Plus I’m on the Pill and after four months I think I might notice.”
“But still... What if you are?”
In Dylan’s face is a strange mix of hope and love. Shortly after we became engaged, he hinted how he wants children , and of course we will, but the speed Dylan operates at is breathtaking. The man who fell in love in three days, who’s lived a fast and furious lifestyle, never plans. To Dylan, life happens and preferably when and how he wants.
I curl my fingers around his and squeeze, unsure what to say. “Next year’s plan, remember?”
He laughs. “On ‘the list.’”
“I like lists!” I nudge him in the ribs with an elbow.
“Hmm.” Dylan stands and leans across to turn the bath taps. “Are you feeling okay now? You won’t be sick again?”
“I’ll feel better after a bath. Shoo!”
Leaving a last kiss on my forehead, Dylan heads away and switches to singing to himself as he bangs around the bedroom, unpacking.
As I sink into the bubble-filled bath, Dylan’s words join me. This sickness feels different to the last. Could I be pregnant?
“What’s the date?” I call.
Dylan pokes his head around the corner. “October 10th. We’re in Germany on the twelfth, remember?”
“Germany?”
“The Awards thing.”
“Oh. That.” Crowds. Cameras. Ugh. I pull a face and sink under the warm water, which swirls hair around my face and blocks out the world. October already? I lost track of time; days merging into one as we travelled from place to place. I run through dates in my head and my queasy stomach lurches.
The water splashes as I pull my head back from under, pulse hiking. I hold a hand over my stomach.
Dylan could be right.