Page 35 of Pretty Desperate (Pine Village #6)

JILLIAN

I groan and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

This is the second time I’ve thrown up today and yesterday wasn’t much better.

The difference was yesterday I was at work.

And we were incredibly busy for a Saturday.

It was horrible, but Emmalynn was a trooper and was able to handle everything on the front end while I tried to hide in back as much as possible.

The last thing I needed was to share whatever bug I have with my customers.

Surprisingly, after about eleven or so, I started to feel better, which was a welcomed reprieve, and I was able to figure out how to power through the rest of my day before I closed.

I skipped dinner with Kameron, however. He invited me to come by the restaurant and grab a bite to eat with him, but I was afraid of whatever sickness I have rearing its ugly head once more, so I passed.

I also passed on meeting him at his place, opting to cuddle up on my couch and watch a movie.

Did I miss him?

Hell yeah, I did.

Terribly.

But the distance was necessary. Not only would I feel horrible if I got him sick, but I’ve felt this overwhelming draw to him the last few days. Ever since dinner with my parents on Thursday night. His touches felt…different.

Real.

That’s why a little space was needed. I was entertaining all sorts of ideas I had no business entertaining.

Plus, we fell into an easy routine of me going to dinner at the restaurant or him cooking for me at his place, me spending the night, and going to work the next morning, only to do it all again.

As amazing as it’s been, I was in desperate need of a reminder of what we really are.

Temporary.

Fake.

And now here I am, with my face in the toilet on Sunday morning, grateful I’m able to throw up in the privacy of home.

When my stomach finally settles, I flush the toilet and move to the sink to brush my teeth.

I’m completely exhausted, even though it’s barely after nine in the morning, so once I’ve cleaned myself up a bit, I head to the kitchen to grab a drink.

I find a Sprite in the refrigerator and a sleeve of crackers in the pantry.

Despite getting sick, I’m surprisingly hungry, so I take my treasures to the living room and find something to watch on TV.

I settle on a cooking competition show, finding them much more interesting than I ever have.

That’s the Kameron effect. He’s been teaching me little things in the kitchen, and while he’s preparing dinner, I find myself completely engaged.

Obviously, baking has always been my thing, but I’ve discovered cooking isn’t so bad…

when you have someone in the kitchen alongside you.

Maybe that’s the big difference. It’s been a pretty long time since I lived with someone, and even then, Davis was rarely in the kitchen with me.

He preferred video games, believe it or not.

He said it was how he unwound after a long day in the office, and he had a small group of three or four others from all over that would play together via the gaming system.

I never got into it, not really understanding the appeal, but I never complained.

Who was I to say how he should and shouldn’t relax after work?

But when those games started creeping into all hours of the night and monopolized our weekends, a wedge was driven between us.

Not to mention the fact I swore my biological clock was ticking so loudly the entire state of Wisconsin could hear it.

I wanted a baby, to celebrate our love and grow a family, but he kept putting me off.

Finally, nine months after we were married, he told me he changed his mind and walked away.

Now, I’ve experienced a whole new side of relationships.

Sure, it might not be legit, but it feels like it, and I genuinely enjoy spending time with Kameron.

I love helping him in the kitchen, relaxing together in the hot tub, and falling asleep in each other’s arms. Even if I have to get up before the birds, he still rises with me and makes sure I get off to work okay.

He’s sweet, caring, and incredibly attentive, all entwined with a touch of alpha.

Very romance novel worthy.

I wish he were my real boyfriend…

Lying down, I take a few bites of cracker, grateful when it seems to calm my stomach instead of hurting it.

I absently watch some of the show, not really retaining any of the challenge playing out on the television.

They’re making some sort of dish only using the provided ingredients, but my brain isn’t in it.

Instead, I try to run down the list of ingredients I need to purchase for my own shop.

I should be making a list.

Closing my eyes, I feel myself relax.

Maybe a nap is just what I need.

Then, when I wake, I’ll go do my shopping.

I wake with a start, my eyes flying open and scanning the room. There’s a new show on the TV, but the sun is still bright in the September sky. I reach for my phone to check the time, finding a few text messages from Kameron.

Kameron

Just checking on you. Hope you’re getting some rest today.

Kameron

Thinking of you.

Kameron

Your parents were just here for lunch. They raved about their dinner Thursday night and suggested we do it again soon. I definitely won them over.

I can’t help but smile, thinking about how much my parents talked him up after our dinner.

My mom was positively thrilled by the news of me dating, but when they heard it was Kameron, it elevated her delight to a whole new level.

She’s practically picking out china patterns and ordering the invitations.

I fire off a quick reply before climbing up from my comfy position on the couch.

Me

Just took a nap. Apparently I was exhausted.

He doesn’t reply, but I don’t expect it. He’s working and will get back to me when he can.

I stretch my arms toward the ceiling and yawn. I can’t believe how tired I am. I’m definitely coming down with something, with the queasy stomach and exhaustion. I just hope it passes before I return to the bakery tomorrow morning.

Taking a moment to fill up my tumbler with water, I take a seat at the kitchen table and grab my notebook.

I always make notes in here when I start to get low on baking supplies, so they can be added to my next order.

I learned quickly after opening, the easiest way to not forget anything was to write it down as soon as I noticed I was low.

After running out of butter and falling dangerously low on sugar once, I knew I needed to keep better track of my supplies.

This notebook is a lifesaver. It goes everywhere with me and sits prominently in the kitchen.

Plus, my employees know to write things down in there when they realize something is running low, especially serving or to-go supplies.

I pull up the app for the super center in Hudson and start adding the items I usually get from there. I purchase at the local grocery store when I can, but unfortunately, some of the stuff I need is a larger bulk size, and I just can’t get that from our locally owned grocery store.

I make a separate list of the fresh items I’ll be needing from Pine Village, including different fruits from the market, and then switch over to making a separate order for my own personal needs.

Walking through the kitchen, I add a few things for the pantry and refrigerator, not going overboard, since Kameron seems to be content cooking most of the time.

But since I do enjoy making a few dishes, I add those ingredients to my list, vowing to invite him to eat at my place either Monday or Tuesday night, since his restaurant is closed.

Before I complete my order, I go to the bathroom and check my stock there.

I add a tube of toothpaste to my order, as well as a package of toilet paper.

I have some, but both items are things you never want to be caught without.

Needing to check my cleaning supplies, I open the cabinet below the sink and take stock of what’s there.

My eyes land on the open box of tampons and prepare to add them to my shopping cart.

But then something hits me.

My heart rate starts to climb as I click out of the shopping app and flip over to my calendar. I scroll back to the previous month and start counting.

“Oh, shit…”

Needing to recount, I scan the weeks and days and do the math all over again.

My breathing hitches in my throat when I come up with the exact same number.

I was supposed to start my period five days ago.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter, jumping up and heading into the kitchen. I’m not sure what for, since nothing I need at the moment is there. I do grab my tumbler and take a healthy drink of water, my brain spinning.

“Okay, Jillian, think.”

Exhaustion, check.

Upset stomach and feeling nauseous, check.

Reaching down, I gently press on my chest. Yep, tender, swollen boobs.

Check!

“I’m pregnant,” I mutter aloud, the words echoing in my brain like a blaring train horn.

My legs feel wooden as I make my way to the living room and drop onto the couch once more. I glance around the room, as if it might give me some magical insight or the answers to the burning questions peppering my brain.

How?

When?

Why?

Well, I know exactly how it happened, and I’m pretty sure I can even answer the when.

That first night we slept together, the condom broke.

I had done the math, but apparently I was wrong.

You can get pregnant around day twenty-one, because that’s the only logical explanation.

We’ve used protection every single time, and even though it’s not completely foolproof, it decreases your chances of pregnancy tremendously.

Yet here I am…