Amelia
I threw up this morning.
I'm not sick, but I still woke up to hurl my guts up.
It was around six in the morning and Harry was still peacefully asleep. He looked cute all tucked in under the covers next to me, his face mashed in the pillow while his arm was loosely slung over my body. However, I could barely take the time to look at him for more than a few seconds before I threw the blanket off of me so I could rush to the bathroom to vomit.
I tried to be discreet about it but Harry either heard me or has some sort of sixth sense to realize when something is wrong. He came in the bathroom while I was mid-puke and silently pulled my hair back off my face while rubbing small circles into my upper back with his free hand.
I knew he was concerned but I told him it wasn't anything to worry over. I hadn't been feeling well for the past couple of days and I knew exactly what's been causing it.
I'm not pregnant or anything like that. I had my period just recently, which was awful because Harry kept unintentionally turning me on but I refused to let him touch me while I bled. He told me he didn't care about making a mess and that periods are normal and nothing to be ashamed of, but I cared. Although I appreciated Harry's kindness and honesty, I just felt gross in general and quite frankly just didn't want to deal with the mess. It wasn't worth it.
So no, I'm not pregnant, but what I am is nervous.
Today is my talk with Anne, Gemma, and Harry. It's been eating away at me for a while now, affecting me more than I thought it was. I think subconsciously it's always been on my mind and I wouldn't be surprised if it had something to do with my mood change recently.
As I sit here in Anne's house, her, Harry, Gemma, and I all around the dining room table as we eat a late lunch, I can't help but wonder how they'll react to the impending conversation.
Will they hate me for keeping it a secret?
Will they be surprised?
Will they be happy? Upset?
There are so many questions swirling in my mind right now that I feel like I'm going to be sick again. It's only when Harry's hand reaches under the table until it rests on my thigh do I loosen up a bit.
"So Amelia, how long are you in London for?" Anne asks me with a small smile.
"Oh - um - until Tuesday I believe," I answer, losing all track of my days. I actually can't remember if Tuesday is my last day in London or not but I don't have the energy to try and remember.
"I thought it was Wednesday, love," Harry gently says.
I glance over at him.
"It might be," I awkwardly say. "Sorry, I'm losing track of my days..."
He squeezes my leg, probably sensing some uneasiness in my answer. He knows vaguely that I've been nervous for today, but he just doesn't know why. I can tell it's killing him because he wants to comfort me, but honestly I'm not sure I'm the one that'll need comforting.
"No worries, dear," Anne says to me. "Just wanted to know how long you were in town for. I'd like to see you again before you leave if you have time."
I smile and nod.
"I'd like that," I answer honestly.
The rest of lunch goes by uneventfully, but I remain on edge. Harry's hand on my thigh does little to help as much as I'd like it to. It just reminds me to stay present rather than drifting off into my own little world and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or bad thing.
