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My stomach turns over as my own possible new reality hits me and I push to my feet.

“Sorry, I just need a minute.”

Suddenly, the scent of the pool, the humidity, everything is too much as I bolt for the bathroom, hoping like hell that they’re not all about to follow me.

“Calli?” Stella calls.

I wave my hand behind me. “Vodka,” I mumble, much to their amusement, and I just pray that it’s enough to cover up the real reason why I’m losing my goddamn mind.

I need to know the truth.

I need to stare down at the evidence that I can’t count to four correctly and know that this is a false alarm. Because it has to be, right?

I can’t be…

I retch and lurch myself toward the basin, but nothing actually comes up. No surprise there, seeing as I puked up the coffee Jocelyn gave me and haven’t had anything since.

“Fucking hell,” I groan, resting my hands on the counter and bending over, hanging my head between my shoulders.

I suck in a deep breath, hoping that it might help calm the riot of emotions raging within me.

I need to not be here right now. I need to find a shop and I need to—

I heave again, the reality of what I need to do shaking me to my very core.

What the hell is my mother going to say about this—

“Calli?” The concerned voice from the other side of the room cuts off my thoughts and interrupts my panic.

I stand in a rush and have to reach for the basin once more when the room spins around me.

“I’m fine. That vodka last night really wiped me out.”

“Yeah,” Bri agrees suspiciously. “It really has.”

She walks toward me with her brows pulled together and concern oozing from her.

“Are you sure that’s all this is?”

“That and the dread for what tonight is going to hold,” I say weakly. “Why?” I mentally kick myself for asking when I should be doing anything to get the heat off me right now.

“You just seem… different.”

“There’s a lot of shit going on and I j-just—” My voice cracks, and I swallow down the rest of that statement.

“Calli,” Bri whispers, stepping closer and taking my hand in hers. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me. You can trust me, you know that. Has something hap—”

“I’m late,” I blurt, my eyes widening in shock at my outburst.

“Oh, um… I don’t think your next appointment is for a bit yet. I think they’re bringing us food fir—”

“I don’t mean my appointment. I mean… I’m late. Like… late.” My eyes beg for her to hear my unspoken words.

There’s no way I can admit the truth out loud. That is not going to help me in any way. But fuck, I need someone to know. I need someone to tell me that this is going to be okay. I need her to tell me that I’m overreacting and that this kind of thing happens all the time and that it’ll be nothing.

It takes a couple of seconds, but eventually her jaw drops and her eyes widen.

“Oh, that kind of late,” she murmurs. “How much?”