Page 105 of The Business of Love Box Set 1: Books 1 - 4

HAILEY

C oming to the last chapter of a good book was always bittersweet. I was happy for the characters when they got their fairy-tale ending, but once I put the book down, it could no longer save me from the deep, dark, loneliness I was feeling.

I’d closed in on the last few pages of the last W.

Parker book Katie had sent me on Jackson’s behalf, and once I finished it, I didn’t know how I’d drown my sorrows.

I had no more books stacked in the to-be-read piles on any surfaces in my sister’s house and I lacked the energy to move my ass off the sofa and actually wander down to a used book store to do some shelf perusing. It sounded downright exhausting.

Honestly, everything sounded exhausting to me these days.

I’d been back in Nashville for about a week and a half. I was in limbo with work because my transfer hadn’t fully gone through when I first went to New York. There were still employee codes and identification numbers that needed to be reset and pushed back to the Nashville branch.

I was amazed they’d been willing to keep me as an employee. I supposed my work ethic and customer relations skills finally paid off and secured my position almost indefinitely with the company. I had one of the lowest rates of lost customers and my retention scores were off the charts.

So in short, I wasn’t quitting my job.

This decision left Hannah more than mildly irritated with me. She’d lit me up for an entire three hours after she found out I wasn’t quitting.

Are you fucking kidding me, Hailey? You finally decided to get out of that dump and now you’re going to stay just because it’s easy?

Her words rang in my head and I caught myself reading the same line on the third-to-last page of my book several times over.

With a tired sigh, I closed the cover and stole a quick peek at the signature inside.

Whenever I was feeling low, the slanted signature and well-wishes left in black sharpie ink made me smile.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that my sister was right.

Was I staying at the call center because of how easy and comfortable it was? Was this falling out with Jackson a sign from the universe that something bigger was coming and it was up to me to take that leap and figure out what it was?

Yeah right. The only signs the universe was showing me were stop signs. Or maybe “Dead End.”

Unfortunately, I’d made one shitty decision after another. I’d made my bed and now I had to lie in it. I had to stop looking for magic pills and formulas to cure whatever this hollow feeling was in the pit of my stomach.

I hadn’t felt right for days. Weeks almost.

And it all started the first night Jackson and I hooked up.

What I thought might be the beginning of the rest of my life turned out to be nothing more than an awkward blip on a pathetic timeline.

By now, Jackson had likely already moved on to slimmer, more beautiful women with quieter opinions and fuller lips.

And me?

Well, I’d moved onto Hannah’s couch and that was about it.

My sister was banging pots and pans in the kitchen as she prepared dinner.

She’d been playing the role of my personal chef and confidence booster, as well as my occasional tough-love coach.

I felt guilty for zapping so much of her energy but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

I couldn’t afford to live on my own and I didn’t dare ask our mother for financial help.

I would never hear the end of it.

I’d refused money so many times and insisted I could make it on my own that if I asked for a handout now, I’d basically be giving her permission to scold me scornfully, as she always tended to do when she was disappointed in me.

That was one of the reasons I didn’t speak to or see my mother much.

That, and her new insufferable boyfriend who was only with her for her money.

I gave my head a shake. You’re over thinking. You need to slow down. Take a breath.

I followed my own instructions to slow the sudden quick beat of my heart. I took several deep breaths and closed my eyes while I listened to something sizzle on a pan in the kitchen.

I cracked open one eye and peered over at my sister, who was poised over the skillet on the stove with a wooden spoon in her hand.

“What are you making in there?” I asked.

“My famous stir fry. One of your favorites. I’m surprised you don’t recognize it.”

I sniffed at the air. “It smells different.”

Hannah glanced over her shoulder at me with a small frown. “I’m following the recipe. It shouldn’t smell different.” She nodded at the candle flickering on the kitchen island. “Maybe it’s the candle?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“How’s your book?” my sister asked.

I tossed the book down on the coffee table and slumped low on the sofa. “It was good. But I’m almost done and now I have nothing left to read.”

“You mean nothing left to distract you?”

“Maybe.”

“You could job hunt,” Hannah not-so-subtly suggested.

“I told you. I don’t want a new job right now.

” I stood up and stretched. My lower back was hurting and my shoulders were tense.

I must have slept funny last night. “Too much has been going on. I don’t want to throw another wrench into the equation and have to juggle the stress of a new job. It’s not worth it.”

“The stress of a new job is probably equal to or less than the stress of being yelled at all day,” Hannah said.

“You know I’m not saying this to get on your nerves or make you feel overwhelmed.

I just want what’s best for you. And you and I both know for a fact this job is not what’s best for you.

It’s a stepping stone. A halfway place between where you were and where you’re going.

Hailey, it’s time to start looking at where you’re going. ”

I don’t want to. “Maybe tomorrow,” I said.

“I can look with you.” Hannah lifted the lid of her crock pot which lived in the corner of the kitchen between her fancy napkin holder and fruit bowl.

Steam poured out of the thing and Hannah had to step back, fanning her face.

Moisture built up on the cupboards, and after Hannah removed the chicken from the pot and placed it in the stir-fry pan, she wiped the cupboards dry with a dish towel.

The smell of the chicken smacked me in the face like I owed it money.

“Hannah!” Icovered my mouth and nose with one hand. “That smells awful. Is it bad?”

Hannah blinked at me with an appalled expression. “What? No. It smells delicious. I make this for you all the time and you love it. What’s going on with your snout?”

“My what?”

“Your sniffer. Your beak.”

I shook my head, puzzled. “Have you been drinking?”

“Your nose, dumb dumb. Are you all congested or something?”

I frowned. “No, I feel fine.”

Hannah grinned. “Because I mean, you normally smell kinda funny, but it sounds like now you’re literally smelling funny. Like you’re smelling the wrong way.”

I rolled my eyes and went over to the kitchen island so I could stand in front of the fresh-linen-scented candle. It helped drown out the stench of the meal but not entirely. “I’m fine, Hannah. Seriously. Maybe my taste is just changing.”

Hannah used a fork to pull the chicken breasts apart in the pan. She poured the sauce mixture over the meat and veggies. It popped and sizzled upon contact and the house was flooded with the sweet, burnt scent of teriyaki.

My stomach rolled. “Oh God.”

Hannah looked up from the pan. “What?”

I shut my mouth and suppressed a gag, which made me sound a bit like a circus seal.

There was no time to be embarrassed, though.

I pushed off the kitchen counter and raced down the hallway to the closest bathroom.

I barreled through the door and dropped to my knees in front of the toilet just in time.

What happened next wasn’t fit for polite conversation, but I was surprised Hannah didn’t call an exorcist, considering the ruckus I made.

I flushed the toilet to wash away my sins and sat back on my heels, out of breath. My skin was chilled and sweaty and my hands were shaking.

I felt the same way I had that morning at Jackson’s.

Hannah appeared in the doorway with a dish towel in front of her face. “Are you done? I don’t want to get splashed.”

I chuckled weakly. “Keep laughing. It was the smell of your cooking that did this.”

“Um, I don’t think so,” she said, crossing her arms. “My cooking is divine. I think you might have the flu or something.”

“Yeah, something is off,” I said. Even though my skin felt cold and clammy, I felt hot. “Can I get a glass of water?”

I fanned my face while Hannah filled a cup of water and handed it to me. I drank greedily and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand when I was done.

“I don’t know what happened,” I said. “I felt fine. Then all of a sudden, I just had to get to the bathroom. I’ve never had such little warning before.”

Hannah leaned her shoulder up against the doorframe and folded her arms. She gave me a lopsided little smirk. “Maybe you’re pregnant.”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

Hannah didn’t say anything. She stared at me, and I stared right back at her, and the word hung in the air between us like a stale fart.

My sister swallowed. “Hailey, is it possible that you might be?”

I shook my head. “No. No, I couldn’t be. I’ve only had sex with Jackson and we were safe…” I trailed off.

Safe didn’t always mean immune.

No. No. No.

There was no way I was pregnant. No way. This was just a stomach bug. It would pass. Unless it was a different kind of little stomach bug, the adorable kind that grows in your tummy and you have to name and send to college.

Hannah crouched down in front of me. “Food aversions? Loss of energy? Feeling overwhelmed and stressed? And now sudden bursts of nausea?” She reached out and put her hand on my shoulder.

“I think I’m going to run down to the corner store and pick up a test. Just in case he forgot to wear a raincoat. ”

I searched my sister’s eyes as panic bloomed inside me. “I can’t be pregnant, Hannah. I can’t be.”

Hannah gave me a classic reassuring big-sister smile. “You probably aren’t, you little harlot. But let’s just nip it in the bud and make sure, okay? No harm can come from peeing on a stick.”

“It depends on the stick.”

She smiled and shook her head. “You just relax. Try not to get sick on the rug.”

I laughed. “I’m not a dog.”

“Good, then I won’t have to rub your nose in it.” She smiled. “I’ll bring back some Ginger ale or something with me too. Do you need anything else?”

I shook my head. Pregnant?

Absolutely not. I could hardly take care of myself. How could I be trusted to take care of a baby?

Jackson’s baby. My stomach rolled again.

“Here comes part two.” I hunched over the toilet to be sick again.

Hannah got to her feet and hurried back a step. “Maybe I’ll get you some soda crackers too,” Hannah said. “Just in case.”

I groaned into the bowl like a sad ghost. “Please hurry.”

Hannah shot out of the bathroom. I heard her collect her keys and she shouted down the hall to me that she’d turned the crockpot and the stove off and that she would be back soon.

Please hurry. Please hurry. Please hurry.

I stayed where I was, my knees rooted to the cold tiles of Hannah’s bathroom, playing through all the scenarios in my head of what might have caused this sickness.

For some reason, every time I circled back to pregnancy, my stomach rolled as if to tell me, yes, that’s it.

“It can’t be,” I whispered to myself.

It just couldn’t.