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“Maybe I should have just had Liv scratch me,” Peyton bemoans, arms crossed over the toilet seat, “Never being sick again sounds pretty amazing right now.”
“You don’t mean that,” Ravi cajoles, rubbing her lower back with one hand as he holds her hair back with the other. His touch feels good, warm, reassuringly anchoring her to a world where they is something other than nausea and suffering.
“What if I did-” Peyton begins, only to be interrupted by the urgency of vomiting once again.
What if I did want to become a zombie? What if this was a mistake?
“If you did,” Ravi waits for her to finish hurling but not for her her to elaborate, shifting to the side a bit so he can look her in the eyes, “I’d undertake that journey with you.”
He means it. Peyton knows that and it doesn’t worry her like it might have before. This is going to be fine, she reassures herself, resting her head against Ravi’s chest in exhaustion.
“Besides,” he pulls her gently closer into his arms, “From what I hear, we’re going to essentially be zombies from sleep deprivation starting in about six months anyway.”
“That’s really reassuring,” she shakes her head, but feels herself smiling anyway, “Totally selling the whole parenthood thing.”
He kisses her like she doesn’t taste of bile mixed with last night’s enchiladas.