Karma’s Kiss

Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

I’ve never had food poisoning quite like this: the lingering kind, the strike you at any moment kind, the kind that comes with food aversions and exhaustion. It’s baffling. I might never eat barbecue ever again. The thought of potato salad makes me audibly gag. If someone so much as mentions brisket to me, it’s game over. It’s been two weeks since Sawyer and I met for that fated lunch, and shockingly, I’m still not back to rights.

I stayed home, recuperating at Queenie’s for a few days and resting as much as possible, but since then, I’ve returned to work because otherwise I’ll die of boredom. There are only so many Today show segments one person can watch without losing the will to live.

If a sudden bout of nausea strikes while I’m at work, I hole myself up in the Wildflower Weddings bathroom, Dream big! -ing my way through it. If Queenie’s lunchtime tuna melt turns my stomach, I take some deep cleansing breaths. And when that doesn’t work, I make her take it outside.

“ Can someone bring me my chips!? ”

I know everyone’s worried about me. I see the glances Marge and Queenie exchange when they think I’m not looking. Even Sawyer’s been suggesting I see a doctor. At first, I resisted only because I didn’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill, but this illness has worn me down. Yesterday, a bride came in wearing a floral perfume so cloying I had to run to the bathroom. I can’t keep trying to breathe through the nausea; it’s not working.

It’s why I’m sitting in this exam room with Sawyer on a bright, cheery Monday morning. He insisted on coming with me, just like he’s insisted on being by my side these last two weeks, keeping crackers and Gatorade on hand for the short windows of opportunity where I’m willing to try to eat something. We’ve been binge-watching shows at his place, and a few nights ago, I fell asleep on his couch and stayed the night. Since then, it’s just assumed that’s the plan from here on out, us spending every waking moment together.

I now have a designated Starlight Vineyards t-shirt I wear to sleep. His dark blue coffee cup—the one with the chip and the silly Buc-ee’s logo—is mine ; Sawyer knows better than to grab it in the mornings. He drops me off at work and comes to scoop me up in the evenings. If I happen to be in the mood for actual food, we order it to-go and share it side by side on his couch. Random bouts of nausea aside, it’s been a really nice two weeks together. I’m absolutely crazy about him. Even now, I’m sneaking glances his way as he scrolls through emails on his phone. It’s insane that his jawline really looks like that. So sharp, so perfectly chiseled. And don’t get me started on the rest of him…

Knock-knock.

The exam room door swings open and an older female doctor walks in, accompanied by her medical assistant. Dr. Lopez is everyone’s favorite general practitioner and one of Queenie’s friends. Petite with red lipstick and a bouffant hairdo, she’s just the person I want to see; I know she’ll fix me right up.

“Good to see you, Madison. Sawyer, how’s your grandma?”

“Oh Lolly’s great,” he says, pocketing his phone. “No one can keep up with her around the vineyard.”

Dr. Lopez laughs as she finishes washing her hands, then she accepts the outstretched laptop from her medical assistant and launches into a line of questions for me. We start with the fated barbecue lunch and the symptoms that followed, but it’s not long before she deviates from that day.

“And when was your last period? I don’t see it listed on your intake form.”

Unrelated, but okay.

“Guess I didn’t fill it in.” I have to think about it for a second. “It’s been over a month, but this food poisoning stuff has really thrown off my body.”

She peers up at me. “And are your periods usually regular?”

“Yes, always.”

Dr. Lopez looks first at her medical assistant, then at Sawyer, smiling tightly. “Sawyer, would you mind stepping outside for a moment?”

I lean forward on the exam table, holding out my arm in protest so Sawyer will stay put. “If this is about me potentially being pregnant, I’m not.” I laugh, trying to ease her worries. “I took a test a few weeks ago. Three tests, actually.”

“All on the same day?” It’s troubling that she doesn’t sound as impressed as I thought she would.

“Yes,” I reply firmly. “All negative.”

“And have you tried testing again since then?”

“No.”

I sound incredulous at the idea that I would torture myself in that way. Why would I bother? I got my answer three times over.

She looks again at her medical assistant. “Let’s have Ms. McCall leave a urine sample.”

I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t want to disrespect this sweet doctor. “That’s really not necessary. I’m not pregnant. I’m sick.”

I’m tempted to give an exaggerated cough à la Karen in Mean Girls just to prove my point.

Dr. Lopez nods, smiling. “Of course, I understand. Still, I think it would be helpful to rule out. It’s just protocol.”

Who can argue with “just protocol”? I follow the medical assistant to the bathroom and listen to her instructions, all the while fighting back my annoyance. What a total waste of time, but I’ll play along if it means getting to the bottom of this stupid food poisoning debacle.

I leave a sample, finish up in the bathroom, and head back to the exam room where Sawyer’s sitting waiting for me. He’s glancing out the window when I step back inside, lost in thought from the looks of it.

“Sorry about all this.” I sigh to let him know I think it’s ridiculous, but when he turns to me, he looks entirely too serious. I can tell he’s getting in his head about this pregnancy speculation, so I skirt around the exam table and take a seat in the chair beside his. I pick up his hand and squeeze it.

“We’ve been here before, yeah?” I try to sound nonchalant. “They’ll test, it’ll come back negative, and then we can focus on the root of my real problem: that damn barbecue.”

Sawyer smiles, but it’s reserved. It’s like there’s a secret behind his eyes, something he’s not telling me.

I tilt my head and wrinkle my brow. “What is it?”

He inhales and looks down at our hands, shaking his head. “Nothing. Let’s just see what the doctor says.”

I haven’t said a word in over an hour.

I’m sitting outside on Sawyer’s porch, staring down at the creek. He’s hovering about, worried. He’s brought me iced tea, lemonade, a sandwich, some Oreos. I haven’t touched anything.

“Are you okay?” he asks now, for the hundredth time.

I can only nod, mute. I’m in shock.

Why is he not in shock? In fact, he seems relatively calm.

I’m pre—

See? I can’t even get it out.

Preg-g-g—

Okay, whatever. I’m the P word —at least according to the urine sample and the ultrasound that was performed in the OB clinic next door to Dr. Lopez’s practice. The rollercoaster of emotions I’ve been feeling these last few weeks has once again decided to tick-tick-tick its way to the top of a thrilling drop.

“I just gave away all those boxes,” I say with a shake of my head, like that is the most worrisome issue surrounding this sudden turn of events. “Do you think I can get them back?”

“Let’s not worry about that stuff. We’ll get whatever you need. And I still have that milestone book and the stuffed bear. I was keeping them for…” He cuts himself off then sighs and takes a seat next to me. “I just wanted to keep them.”

That fruit book! The cute yellow bear! For some reason I’m relieved by the news.

“I really thought it was the barbecue…”

As I say this, a little laugh bursts out of me. Maybe I’m having a psychotic break.

“Do you want me to call Queenie?” Sawyer asks gently.

“No. Don’t call Queenie! I can’t deal with all that right now.”

Besides, Queenie probably already suspects this. All those glances and secret conversations between her and Marge—I bet those two knew all along and were just waiting for me to realize it myself. Newsflash, Madison: All the signs were there.

“Are you happy?”

I blink and look at him. I can tell he’s holding back, trying to give me space to process everything before he layers on his own feelings. I can’t help but break out in a smile. “Extremely…but I’m almost too nervous to let myself believe it.”

He reaches across the table for my hand to reassure me. “They did the ultrasound.”

There’s a half-dozen black and white photos on the table between us, each of them depicting a tiny gummy bear baby that’s inside me at this very moment. I touch my stomach, expecting to feel something.

“Can we really trust it?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, pretty sure when they let us hear the heartbeat, it was the real deal, Madison.”

He’s right. Okay, I’m allowed to be happy. It’s okay to let my guard down.

I draw my gaze away from the ultrasound images and peer up at him. I’m wearing a lopsided grin. “ So …I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant,” he confirms, unfurling a tentative smile while squeezing my hand.

We lock eyes, and in the span of a millisecond, the words I love you spring to mind and spill out of me, and though it’s unexpected for me as much as it is for Sawyer, I don’t regret saying them. I watch his face transform, light fill his eyes. He squeezes my hand tighter, tugs me off my chair. He pulls me down onto him, cradling me in his arms, and his lips press against my cheek, my jaw, my forehead. He turns my face and steals a proper kiss and tells me he loves me too before he lifts the photos off the table and we review them together again, picking our favorites.

“I think the baby looks just like you,” I tell him with a mock-serious tone.

He turns them and squints. “I don’t know…definitely has your amorphous blob of a head.”

A laugh bursts out of me, and then I poke him.

“When should we tell people?” he asks.

“Let’s wait. It’s kind of nice to have it be our little secret.”

Life has moved a mile a minute since I returned to Oak Hill. My intention when coming back home was to ground myself and make peace with my broken engagement and tattered life, maybe even enjoy some rest and relaxation. I should have known my first night back in town—when Queenie dragged me to John’s Ice House—that a little R Cornelia must be close to eighty, but she barely shows it. “Can’t complain. Business has been booming lately what with you and your mama keeping me so busy.”

I smile, glad to know the shop is doing so well.

“And apparently I’m not the only busy one.” She quirks a brow mischievously. “I hear you and Sawyer are together.” When I laugh then nod to let her know the rumors are true, she replies, “I’m not surprised.”

I smile curiously. “Really? I am. ”

Her brows shoot up like she doesn’t quite believe me. “I still remember him coming in here way back in high school. It must have been homecoming season.” She furrows her brows in thought. “I recall him looking over the mums, but then he changed his mind and just wanted some kind of fancy bouquet for you.”

“ For me? ” She must be misremembering.

She laughs and leans forward, sweeping cut greenery off the counter and into the trash can by her hip. “God, I remember it clear as day. He wanted some flowers that would match your eyes. No easy feat, mind you. I suggested he keep it simple with red roses, but no. Sawyer wasn’t having it. He made me show him every single flower I had in the shop that day. In the end, he didn’t end up buying anything.”

“Why?”

She stands up tall again, waving her hand. “Oh, bad timing or bad luck, one of ’em. Some boy came in the same time he was here.” She scrunches her forehead, trying to draw his name out of thin air. “ Cory maybe? Cory Keller, does that sound right?”

I nod, anticipating where she’s going with this.

“He happened to come in that day when Sawyer was here, wanted to buy you a corsage for the homecoming dance. Sawyer heard him talking about it and he left…and that’s the last I heard about it.” She shrugs and smiles. “Anyway, I remember feeling a little sorry for Sawyer. But, these things always sort themselves out. You two are together now, it just makes sense.”

I’m almost inclined to think she’s lying, but Cory Keller and I did go to homecoming together one year, and though I didn’t believe him at the time, Sawyer admitted he was interested in me back then.

Wild. High school me would have passed out if I’d known Sawyer Garnett had spent an afternoon trying to build me a bouquet at Cornelia’s.

I glance at the bucket of roses beside her. “You don’t happen to remember what flowers he was considering that day? Sawyer?”

She laughs. “Now you’re really stretching my memory. I don’t recall, but like I said, I was trying to convince him to go with the roses.”

I point to the bucket. “Well if those aren’t spoken for, would you mind wrapping up a dozen for me?”

“Sure thing, hun. And I’ll get you those arrangements you came in for. Kelly’s probably already grabbing them out of the cooler right now.”

Fifteen minutes later, I walk out with the centerpieces for the bridal shower and a dozen red roses wrapped in brown paper for Sawyer. I already have them in a vase sitting on the counter by the time he gets home from the vineyard that night. He walks in and toes off his work boots, sighing with relief. He’s headed toward me, on a mission, but the flowers stop him in his tracks.

His eyebrows shoot up with interest. “Someone buy you flowers?”

I laugh. He almost sounds jealous.

“No. No one bought me flowers.”

I smile deviously when he looks at me, trying to put two and two together.

“Those are for you. From me.”

He looks at them again, almost troubled by their existence. “Did I miss some kind of holiday? Anniversary? I swear I’m usually pretty good with that stuff, but there’s been so much going on lately…”

I wind around the kitchen island on my way toward him. “No holiday. No anniversary. Those are just-because flowers.”

His mouth curves in a timid smile. “No one’s ever bought me flowers before.”

I smile proudly, glad to be the first. “I got them at Cornelia’s today.”

As I reach him, he wraps his arms around my waist, tugging me close and bending so he can kiss the ticklish part of my neck. I squirm, but he likes it—it only brings us closer. “Oh yeah? Just ’cause you love me so much?”

I tip up onto my toes and lean in to kiss him. He wants more, but I pull away so I can answer his question. “Well yes, that , and because when I was there, she told me about the time you came into her shop back in high school…”

Realization dawns and his tan cheeks flood with pink. So it is true!

“I told you I liked you back then.”

“And I didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it.”

He takes one hand off me to rub the back of his neck shyly. “Yeah, well it was silly of me to go in there that day. I had no plan. What was I going to do, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

I smile and rise up to kiss his cheek. “You could have. I’d have said yes. Would have saved us a few years of trouble, don’t you think?”

His eyes are heated now as he imagines this. “God. What would I have done with you if I’d had you all these years?”

I lean into him and lower my voice. “I can think of a few things.”

And then I can’t help but tell him all my deliciously wicked ideas for what he could do with me in a whisper so that he forgets about the flowers and the fact that we’re meant to meet my family for dinner in thirty minutes. He props me on the counter and thanks me for those dozen red roses— twice .