Until You Loved Me (Silver Springs #3)(41)

“Why not now?”

She rubbed her churning stomach. “Because I don’t feel well.”

“You can lie here on the couch. I’ll move out of the way.”

“Not tonight. I—” Unable to hold down the contents of her stomach any longer, she ran to the bathroom.

Once she was done vomiting, she hugged the toilet because she was too weak to get up. “I need you to go!” she gasped.

When she didn’t get a response, she tried to yell. She hated the idea of Hudson being out there, listening to her retch. Not only was her head pounding and her stomach churning, she was drenched in a cold sweat, couldn’t help shivering as she summoned the energy to yell out a second time.

She never managed what she’d planned to say. She threw up again.

When that wave was over, she rested her cheek on her arms as she tried to catch her breath. “Hello? Did you go?” Her voice was a harried whisper. “Will you go? Please?”

“I’m right here,” he said, so close that she dragged herself over to the other side of the toilet just to get away from him.

“Oh, God. Isn’t what’s happening to me bad enough? Leave me in peace. Go back to California!”

He didn’t respond, and when she lifted her heavy eyelids to see why, she found him watching her, his expression concerned.

“This isn’t because of the baby, is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been pregnant before.” Her head was aching, her heart pounding. She longed to crawl into bed.

“Here,” he said. “Let me help you.”

“Don’t,” she told him, but he ignored her feeble attempt to swat him away and helped her up so she could brush her teeth and wash her face. Then he swung her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

*

The third time Ellie scrambled to the bathroom in the middle of the night, Hudson went from mildly concerned to downright worried. He’d never seen anyone vomit so much. He helped clean her up and put her back to bed each time, but he assumed that what she was going through couldn’t be good for the baby, either. When he got her to drink some water, it came right back up. And she was listless and clammy, no longer had the strength to even beg him to leave. She didn’t seem happy that he was there, but she’d accepted her fate.

After two o’clock, she slept for three hours without interruption. But that was almost more worrisome for Hudson. He waited as long as he dared before going in to make sure she was breathing. “Ellie?” he said, jiggling her shoulder, because he couldn’t tell.

She didn’t open her eyes. She did, however, moan and roll away from him.

“Ellie, how are you feeling?”

“Who are you? What do you want?” she groaned.

He could tell by the sound of her voice that she was being facetious. “If you’re really that delirious, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s the flu. I’ll be better in the morning.”

She could also be worse... “You don’t think you could have a concussion? I threw up when I had one.”

“I’m sure tripping me didn’t help, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“It was an accident!”

“Fine. If you leave now, I won’t go to the media,” she said and pulled up the covers.

“Aren’t you funny” he muttered.

She didn’t comment, so he assumed she’d gone back to sleep. Would she know if she needed to be hospitalized? Could he safely believe her?

He wandered around the house a bit more, hoping she’d improve over the next few hours. Most people didn’t show up at the emergency room with the flu, but Ellie was pregnant. And this flu seemed particularly virulent. He’d rather be safe than sorry, but she was so resistant to the idea. She just wanted to be left alone to recuperate.

Once he reached the end of the hallway, he eyed the door to the room he’d peeked into earlier, when he’d first let himself inside her small, clean house. Seeing what was in there had taken him aback. He’d closed the door immediately and stayed away ever since. And yet...the memory kept beckoning him.

This time he did more than poke his head in. He walked inside, closed the door and turned on the light.

Ellie was in the process of creating a nursery. He saw a changing table along the right wall and a big box that obviously held a matching crib. Various shades of blue paint dotted the wall next to two different wallpaper samples, one with an animal theme and one with a sports theme. The wallpaper and paint—and the furniture, which was brown instead of white—made him believe she already knew the sex of their child. She hadn’t mentioned that, and the room wasn’t finished, but it sure looked like a boy’s room to him.

He sat in the gliding rocker in one corner as he studied what she’d collected so far. She had a diaper pail, a car seat, a stroller and something he’d never even seen before—a breast pump, according to the box. He picked it up to take a closer look, decided he was glad to be a man and set it back down. Was he going to have a son? If he’d been given the luxury of choosing, he would’ve asked for a daughter. He felt a sweet little girl would somehow be easier to raise and harder to mess up.