Stevie pressed her cheek against the cold tiled floor of her spacious bathroom, afraid to move a muscle. She closed her eyes and wished her head would stop pounding. There were things she needed to do. She had a fitting scheduled with Margi for an upcoming show at the Whiskey a Go Go, and she had to look over the set list. As much as it seemed like a safe, brilliant idea, Stevie couldn't remain on the bathroom floor. She sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly, gingerly pushing herself from the floor. Her hand shakily clamped over her mouth, and she threw herself forward, retching and heaving into the toilet. She flushed and slumped back onto the tile, shutting her eyes until she heard footsteps and her name being called.
"In here," Stevie yelled out weakly, grimacing at how scratchy her voice sounded. She opened her eyes slowly, groaning at the sight of Sharon's hot pink toenails near her face.
"Why am I always finding you on the floor lately?" Sharon asked sardonically as Stevie slipped her hands over her face. She could tell the blonde wasn't hurt. She had witnessed numerous strange acts out of Stevie since moving in with her off and on through the years, and the woman sprawled out on the bathroom floor didn't top the list. "Let's get you up."
"Don't touch me. Please, don't touch me," Stevie murmured.
"Stevie, you can't stay on the floor!" Sharon felt the irritation rising within her as she stared at a silk pajama clad Stevie stretched out across the floor like she was supposed to be there.
"Yes, I can," she retorted, swallowing hard as her stomach continued churning. "I can stay here the rest of my life if I want."
"No, you cannot. You're going to be late for your appointment with Margi. You haven't even cut down the set list for the show that's in three weeks, and you haven't said anything about rehearsing since we left Dallas!"
Stevie shut her eyes, raising her middle finger in Sharon's direction. She didn't need to hear everything that still needed to be done. She knew how much work was left. At the moment, Stevie didn't know how she would even get through the day.
Sharon crossed her arms and tapped her bare foot against the tiles, curling her lips and staring at the ceiling while she counted to ten. The singer sighed and ran a hand through her hair before stepping over to the sink. She grabbed a cloth and ran cold water, wringing out the cloth. Sharon sat down and scooted closer to her friend. "Put your head in my lap," she instructed.
"That's moving, Sharon. I don't want to move," she mumbled grouchily, glancing up at Sharon and catching the determined look. "Okay. If I puke all over you, you asked for it."
She watched Stevie delicately place her head into her lap. Sharon brushed her bangs away from her eyes and put the cloth across her forehead. "Did you drink last night? You're not supposed to. If you did, it's okay I guess, but Dr. Wong won't be pleased."
"I didn't drink," Stevie answered, wishing the cause of her sickness was that cut and dry. She'd prefer a hangover.
"Do you want me to call Margi and cancel?"
Stevie shook her head. "Give me a few minutes," she answered, squeezing her roommate's hand to relieve the worry lingering in Sharon's onyx eyes. She carefully scrambled up from the floor, letting Sharon steady her. Stevie patted the woman's hand and looked at her. "I'm going to take a shower. Call and tell her I'm running late. She won't be surprised." She wasn't known for her punctuality, and Margi probably expected her to be late. She usually allotted extra time for Stevie.
Sharon nodded. "Anything else?" she inquired while getting a towel out of the cabinet and setting it on the counter.
"Tea and toast, please," Stevie requested, starting the shower and unbuttoning her top as Sharon hurried out. "Sharon! Wait."
"What?" She popped her head back into the room.
"Don't tell Lindsey I was sick."
Sharon furrowed her brows but shrugged her shoulders. "I won't. Brush your teeth. You have vomit breath."
"Thanks," Stevie muttered under her breath but brushed her teeth, gagging the entire time. She followed with mouthwash and spit into the basin, holding her hair back.
After her marathon shower, she wanted to crawl into bed and sleep, but she went through her routine, slathering her face with moisturizer and making the agonizing decision on what to wear for the day. She fingered through the black and more black of her closet. She pulled an uncomplicated black dress from the rack and put it on, shuffling out and taking the cup of tea from Sharon.
"Feeling better?"
Stevie nodded, sipping the hot tea. "I guess it's still side effects from detoxing," she lied without batting an eyelash. Sharon plopped onto the bed and rambled as her friend sauntered into the bathroom. Stevie expertly applied her make-up and tuned Sharon's thoughts about the set list out. She had too much on her mind to think about a little show at a West Hollywood club. She fluffed her hair as she gave herself one last look in the mirror.
"Your hair's not dry," Sharon stated with surprise.
"I don't feel like drying it," Stevie responded shortly as she took a few bites of toast. "Can we go now?"
"Yeah. The car will be here in ten minutes."
Stevie dropped onto the bed and pulled on her socks and Reeboks. "When did Lindsey leave?"
"He left for the studio before ten o'clock. He mentioned he'd be here before 8 or 9."
She hoped tonight wouldn't be a night where he lost all track of time and didn't return until the wee hours of the morning. Stevie needed to talk to him. She followed Sharon down the stairs and out the door to muddle through her day.
When Stevie returned home, she whittled down the set list to nine songs instead of fourteen and passed over scheduling rehearsals to her assistant. She took off her glasses and sank underneath the warmth of the covers, yawning. Before she fell asleep, she sat up and dialed Dr. Wong from her private line. Stevie spoke with him, twirling the phone cord around her slender fingers. The psychiatrist soothed her new fears and worries about her detox. She hung up the phone and turned on the television, watching I Love Lucy to keep her awake until Lindsey came home.
Her plan failed.
Lindsey leaned over her, removing her glasses from her face while shaking his head. He couldn't believe how much the woman he loved slept lately. She had been a night owl weeks ago. Now, she was sleeping twelve or fourteen hours. He sat down on the bed and shook her shoulder gently. "Angel, wake up," he whispered, glancing at the clock. 8:15PM. He assumed she'd woken up at two in the afternoon, and here she was taking a nap.
She grumbled and rolled over, kicking her tiny feet out from under the blankets. Lindsey sighed and debated throwing an icy bucket of water over her, but he didn't want to be murdered. He careened his body over hers and placed feverish kisses to her cheek. She put her palm flat against his face and pushed.
He smirked and gave the lobe of her ear a playful nip. Stevie groaned. "Lemme sleep," she murmured.
"No. All you've done is sleep, Stevie."
"Sleep," she echoed and pulled the covers over her head, dismissing him.
Lindsey smoothed his hand over her blanket covered hip, and he heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He observed her sleeping form and couldn't ignore the thoughts creeping into his mind. She had been sleeping more since coming home, and she had been a touch distant with him. "Stephanie," he said, voice harsh and grave.
"Don't Stephanie me. I'm tired," she responded.
"Did you take more Klonopin than you were supposed to?"
She yanked the covers from her head and glared at him, sitting up. "How the hell could you ask me a question like that?"
"Did you?" His eyes bore into hers, turning that threatening shade of blue gray. He had no intention of backing down on getting an answer.
"I didn't! How could I?" she shouted, throwing the covers off and stumbling out of bed. There was no way she would be a fool and throw away all the progress she'd made with quitting the prescription drug. Her dosage was even less, and the bottle was kept in a locked cabinet with only Lindsey and Sharon having the keys to it.
"I don't know! If you want something bad enough, you find a way to get it, Stevie," he stated, not breaking eye contact with her and looking for any signs of truth.
Stevie narrowed her eyes and braced herself on her dresser. She felt lightheaded but disregarded it. Her skin felt hot as her anger rose. "That cabinet is locked. Only you and Sharon have the keys. Lindsey, I haven't taken more than I'm supposed to."
He moved from the bed and stared at her with a keen eye. "Stevie, what did you take?" he questioned, walking to her. There were beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead, and her skin had paled considerably within minutes.
"I didn't take anything!" Stevie yelled at him. Her heart raced, and she knew she had to calm down. She fought through the dizzy spell.
Lindsey's eyes drifted to her chest rising and falling as she tried to slow her breathing. "You had to! You're pale and sweating. Goddammit, Stevie...just tell me what you took," he pleaded, growing exasperated. He would be disappointed with a relapse, but her not being honest was driving him straight to losing his temper.
"I'm pregnant!" she screamed, sliding down the dresser as tears rolled down her cheeks. She drew her knees to her chest and cried into her gown. Stevie hadn't wanted to tell him like this. She wanted it to be romantic and sweet, not during a yelling match of her being wrongly accused of relapsing.
Lindsey stopped in his tracks and swallowed the lump caught in his throat. He felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. He dropped down onto the large tufted ottoman at the foot of the bed and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees as he turned his head towards Stevie. She was pregnant. She was having his baby...again. He couldn't stop his face from coiling into a joyful grin. "A baby, Stevie."
She lifted her head and met his eyes, nodding her head in confirmation. "So much for taking things slow."
He chuckled, smiling more. "We weren't ever good at slow anyway."
Stevie took a deep breath and chewed her bottom lip. "Linds, are you happy?"
He moved from the ottoman and dropped to his knees in front of her, stroking her hair back. "I am. I never thought I'd be a father again. It's been twenty years." Lindsey cupped her face and caressed her cheek with his calloused thumb.
She leaned into his touch, putting her hand over his. "There's one other hiccup."
His brows knitted together in confusion as she told him to get her purse. He stood to his feet and brought her bag to her. She patted the spot next to her as she pulled out her wallet, handing him a sonogram from the week before. Stevie knew he would need tangible proof instead of her telling him she had a feeling or a recurring dream.
Lindsey's eyes widened as he stared at the black and white image in his hands. He gulped, feeling like a first-time father as he fixed his eyes on the arrows pointing to Baby A and Baby B.