I’m given the birth-control shot by the nurse, who has suddenly turned into a mother hen, talking about her grandchildren and their love of her homemade cookies. I stay quiet mostly, only speaking enough to be polite. I feel nauseous.
She gives me a thorough briefing about my new contraceptive, going over the pros and cons that I’ve already heard from Dr. West. I’m thrilled to not have to deal with a period anymore, slightly concerned over the weight gain, but figure it’s an even trade.
She tells me that since I’m on my period now, the shot will be effective immediately, but to wait three days to have unprotected sex, just to be safe. Then she reminds me that this won’t protect me from STDs, only pregnancy.
After scheduling the dreaded follow-up appointment, I head straight downtown to take my passport photo and finalize the paperwork. Of course, it has already been paid for by Mr. Vance. I cringe at the amount of money everyone around me seems to have no problem spending on me.
Every single person I pass on the street seems to be pregnant or carrying a child in their arms. I shouldn’t have pressed the doctor for information; now I’m going to be paranoid until my follow-up, which of course isn’t for another three weeks. Three weeks to drive myself mad, three weeks to obsess over the chance that I might not be able to get pregnant. I don’t know why the idea is so painful; I thought I had somewhat come to terms with the idea of not having children. I can’t mention this to Hardin yet, not until I know for sure. Not that it will make a difference to his plans anyway.
I text Hardin when I get back to my car, telling him that my appointment went well, and head back to Christian and Kimberly’s house. By the time I arrive, I’ve convinced myself that I’ll spend the week avoiding the topic. There’s no reason to worry myself when Dr. West assured me that nothing was definite at this point. The hollowness in my chest says otherwise, but I have to ignore it and move on for now. I’m going to England. For the first time in my life, I’m going to be traveling outside of the state of Washington, and I couldn’t be more excited. Nervous, but excited.
Chapter one hundred and thirty
HARDIN
Tessa looks like she could pass out any minute. She’s shoved an ink pen between her teeth as she looks over her checklist again. Apparently traveling across the globe kicks her neurotic tendencies into high gear.
“Are you sure you have everything?” I sarcastically ask.
“What? Yes,” she huffs, focused on the task of rechecking her carry-on bag for the tenth time since we arrived at the airport.
“If we don’t go inside now, we’re going to miss our flight,” I warn her.
“I know.” She looks up at me, her hand still digging around that damn bag. She’s crazy—adorable as hell, but fucking nuts. “You’re sure about leaving your car here?” she asks.
“Yes. That’s what this parking lot is for: cars.” I point up at the Long-Term Parking sign above our heads and say, “It’s for cars with no commitment issues.”
Tessa stares at me blankly, as if I’ve said nothing at all.
“Just give me the bag,” I say, pulling the hideous thing from her shoulder. It’s too heavy for her to be carrying around. The woman has packed half of her shit in this bag alone.
“I’ll pull the case, then.” She reaches for the handle of the wheelie suitcase.
“No, I’ve got it. Relax, would you? It’ll be fine,” I assure her. I’ll never forget how frantic she was this morning. Folding and refolding, packing and repacking our clothes until they fit perfectly in the case. I took it easy on her, because I know how beyond her element this trip is. Even though she’s being as annoying as ever, I can’t help but feel excited. Excited to be taking her on her first trip abroad, excited at the prospect of watching her blue-gray eyes widen at the clouds as we fly through them. I made sure she had a seat next to the window for that reason alone.
“Ready?” I ask her as the automatic doors open as if to greet us.
“No.” She smiles nervously, and I lead her through the crowded airport.
“YOU’RE GOING TO PASS OUT on me, aren’t you?” I lean over and whisper to Tessa. She’s pale, and her small hands are shaking on her lap. I gather them in one of mine and offer her an assuring squeeze. She smiles at me, a nice change from the scowl that covered her face the entire time from the ticket kiosk until now.
That TSA agent was hitting on her; I recognized the stupid fucking grin on his face when she smiled at him. I have the same fucking grin. I had every right to tell him to fuck off, but of course she didn’t agree, and she’d been scowling since she dragged me away, my middle finger high in the air at that asshole. “Thank God that guy’s so nearsighted,” she mumbled, and then kept looking back over her shoulder.
Her attitude only worsened when I pressed for her to do up her cardigan. The old man next to me is a fucking pervert, and Tessa’s lucky she has the window seat and I can shield her from his eyes. Being stubborn, she refused to button the damn thing, leaving her tits on display for everyone to see. Granted, the shirt isn’t that low cut, but when she bends down, you can see straight down it. She ignored my protests and claimed that I can’t control her. I’m not trying to control her, I’m trying to prevent men from ogling over her not-so-subtle chest.
“No, I’m okay,” she hesitantly answers. Her eyes give her away.
“We should be taking off anytime.” I glance up at the flight attendant making her way through the cabin to check the overhead compartments for the third time. They’re all fucking closed, lady; let’s get a move on it before I have to carry Tessa off of this plane. Actually, halting the trip could work in my favor, really.