One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(71)

A snort pops out of me. This is the most interesting date I’ve ever been on, and even though I didn’t want to come—and I’m still hung up on someone else—in the end, this might have been the best decision I’ve made since I’ve moved here. Because for once in quite some time, I have a smile on my face. I’ve laughed even. Despite the smog, maybe I’m beginning to lift my eyes to see through it.

Chapter Nineteen

ADALYN

“Adalyn, are you in here?”

I rest my head against the cold porcelain of the third stall toilet in the employees’ bathroom. There has to be millions of germs permeating my skin at the very moment, but I don’t care. It feels good.

The toilet feels good.

Never thought I would ever say such a thing, but this toilet, the one I’m bear-hugging right now, it’s my best friend. It’s cooling my clammy skin, making me believe there really are miracles out there, because this toilet is a miracle to me. Plucked from the porcelain factory, brought to this hospital, and installed just for me.

“Adalyn?”

“Errrrrrr,” I groan, my eye partially open, pressed against the white surface, my face smeared across what I’m hoping is NOT a pee-coated surface.

Soft steps sound along the grey-tiled floor, stopping in front of my stall that I left unlocked because when you’re about to throw up, you don’t have time for pleasantries such as locking your bathroom stall door.

“Oh Addie.” Emma pushes the door open. “What was it this time?”

Swallowing hard, my stomach rolling again, I say, “Mr. Martinez. He had me lotion his ankles. The scaly skin was just . . .” My stomach constricts and before I know it, my head is buried in the toilet again, the last of my saltines from lunch exiting my body.

Whoever said pregnancy is rewarding and a beautiful experience is a freaking con artist and should take the fast pass lane to go fuck yourself.

Hovering over me, Emma soothingly rubs my back, not needing to hold my hair, because I’ve learned by now that a tight bun at work while pregnant is my savior.

“I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry.”

Breathing in lovely toilet water, I spit and say, “No, I knew there was another one coming. I’m glad I got it out.” Rolling to my side so my back is against my new best friend, I lean my head against the toilet seat. “I hate life right now.”

Emma squats down next to me, taking a seat. “I know. I wish there was more we could do. You still don’t want to take those anti-nausea pills Dr. Dallas suggested?”

I shake my head. “No. I really don’t want to take any medication. I’m going to get over this, just have to get to that twenty-week mark.”

“That’s eleven more weeks to go.”

“Eleven weeks is nothing. These last nine have seemed like a blur, they went by so quickly.” Seeing as though for the first two weeks after my last missed period, I was blissfully ignorant that I would get pregnant.

Lies, all of it lies. Time stood still the minute Hayden left for California. Honestly, I don’t know what day of the week it is anymore. But I don’t want to take drugs.

“Don’t be stubborn.” Emma pushes a stray hair out of my face. “You can’t keep running to the bathroom every time you have to lotion someone’s ankles.”

“It’s not just applying lotion to ankles.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know.” I sigh. “It will get better. We just have to make it through these next couple of weeks.” Lifting my head, I ask, “Can you help me up?”

“You have toilet all over you.”

“And that’s an issue because . . .” I pause and get real with Emma. “You wipe asses at least once a week for total strangers. Pretty sure a little toilet face isn’t going to harm you.”

Rolling her eyes, she straightens and helps me to my feet. “Let’s get you washed up.”

We spend the next few minutes trying to disinfect my face and arms and brushing my teeth. I was smart. After the first day of throwing up at work, I brought in a toothbrush and toothpaste with me and keep it in my locker.

I splash one more round of water on may face and dry off. I’ve looked better, but at least I’m not as ghostly white as I was this morning. There is a small amount of color in my cheeks, making me look a little more human.

“Here. It’s not water, but it should help.” Emma hands me a ginger ale. “Drink up. Want me to get you some Powerade?”

I scrunch my nose up then take a big swig. “That stuff is way too sugary for me. Last night I was throwing up neon orange.”

“Okay, I can score you some Pedialyte if you would want.”

“Yes, that would be amazing. The clear kind. I’ll suck it down quickly.”

“Not a problem. I can grab some. Why don’t you sit on the couch for now and take a second to gather yourself.”

We both make our way to the common sitting area in the employees’ lounge. There are a few doctors watching ESPN, drinking sodas and dabbling in some free pizza that was brought to the lounge. I consider eating a piece, but think better of it. Pretty sure the demon inside me will reject the pizza just like everything else I try to eat.

The only things that don’t make me throw up right now are saltines, bland chicken, and applesauce. God, I love applesauce, the unsweetened kind. I have so many jars of it in my house right now, that you would think I had stock in the company.