Me: No. I don’t want to move. I just want to make you feel bad for getting me sick.

Sydney: Sorry you’re sick. But it’s not my fault.

Me: BS

Sydney: I don’t have a virus. I’m pregnant.

I stare at the screen. She’s pregnant. I’m going to get another little niece or nephew. Not even the painful urge to retch can keep me from smiling.

Me: OMGGGGGGG!!!!!!

Sydney: We’ve told no one. So you know nothing. Got it?

Me: OMGGGGGGG!!!!!!

Sydney: Love you too. Feel better. Call if you need us.

“Is that a smile?” Jake shrugs off his shirt as he comes out of the bathroom.

I stare for a few seconds. His jeans are unfastened as well, just barely hanging onto his hips.

“Ave?”

“Huh?” I glance up.

He grins. “Were you just smiling?”

“Yeah. Sydney is … well, I can’t tell you. But I didn’t get this virus from her because what she has is not contagious.”

He studies me with a narrowed gaze for a few seconds. “So she’s pregnant?”

“I did not say that.”

“Got it.” He winks.

I refocus on his abs and a bit lower. It distracts me from my nausea.

“I’m going to eat. Will that bother you?”

My gaze snaps back up to meet his knowing eyes. He smirks.

“No.”

“I’m going to get you some coconut water. I want you to drink it before you go to sleep.”

He’s my Lautner. Why does this bring tears to my eyes? Because he’s leaving on Saturday. Because Mo will be with him next week. Because … I love him. “Okay,” I whisper around the swell of emotion in my throat as I roll to my side again, putting my back to him.

A few seconds later, there’s a pounding noise. I glance over my shoulder. He’s pounding a hole into a young coconut. He’s giving me coconut water from an actual coconut.

He might be better than Lautner.

“Thank you.” I dab the corners of my eyes and ease to sitting. “Glass straw. Fancy.”

He hands me the coconut.

“Only the best for you.” He smiles.

I frown. “I brought you coconut water in a can when you were … not well.”

“When you poisoned me.” He lifts an eyebrow.

“Yeah, when that happened.” My lips wrap around the glass straw. “Go eat,” I mumble.

He leans forward, kissing me on the forehead. “Get some rest. Feel better.”

I fall asleep. By the time I wake up, Jake’s asleep on the sofa. The dim lighting under the kitchen cabinets gives me just enough light to make it to the bathroom where I vomit the coconut water.

As I reach to flush the toilet, a cold damp cloth gets pressed to my forehead.