“Zo?” My brother, Thomas, taps on the bathroom door. “You alright? Do you need a Pepto or something?” His knocks grow more desperate when I don’t answer. “Zo?”

“I’m fine,” I croak from my defeated pose over the toilet. There’s no ‘right’ way to throw up, but I think I’ve found the most dehumanizing.

When I was younger, I never used public toilets and I even stooped over toilet lids instead of sitting on them because I was scared of germs and thought my precious buttocks deserved better.

Today, my arms are slung over the seat and my head’s leaning on the side of the porcelain like I’m embracing a lover. My nine-year-old self would be horrified.

“Zo?” Thomas yells.

“I’m coming,” I mumble.

After climbing to my feet, I open the door so Thomas can see that I’m not dead and then I wash my hands in the sink.

The mirror above the faucet reveals a woman with dark brown skin and black hair fashioned into a crown braid with wisps falling over her high cheekbones. Her plump brown lips are still cracked open in a pathetic gasp for air.

“Are you okay?” Thomas puts his hands on my back, which is exposed in the low cut emerald dress I bought for the wedding.

His hands are warm, and I instantly feel better. “Yeah.”

“It sounded like you were coughing up a lung. Maybe we should see a doctor.”

“No, there’s no time.”

“I don’t care if we’re late to this thing. We don’t even have to go.”

I shoot him down immediately. “It’ll look weird if you don’t show up. Amaya will think you still have feelings for her.”

He smirks. “It’s all about what people think with you, isn’t it?”

“No.” I scoff at the suggestion. “I’m worried about you. It was crazy enough that she invited her ex to her wedding, but it’s crazier that you RSVP’d. You’re going no matter what.”

“If you’re sure…”

“Positive.” I wipe my hands off on the bathroom towel and straighten. “Let’s do this thing.”

Thomas still looks unconvinced, but he escorts me to the car and drives to Queen Hotel.

The garden has been pimped out with tropical bouquets on white posts and chairs layered in white satin. Lights are strung over the treetops and fragrant blooms perfume the air. The sunlight casts a romantic, golden glow on everything.

It’s a scene straight out of a storybook.

Even though I’m still a little queasy, I’m glad I came. Amaya and I have a love-hate relationship that means a lot to me.

If that even makes sense.

Plus, I’m genuinely happy for her and Kent. Amaya’s her best self when she’s with him.

When she was dating my brother, it was clear she wasn’t as invested as Thomas was, and I resented her for that.

I’ve always thought my brother was the most handsome guy in the world with his deep chocolate skin, thick eyelashes and Idris Elba-esque swagger. He deserves to be fawned over and loved like crazy, and Amaya just didn’t feel that way about him.

Thankfully, there are no hard feelings between them.

To be honest, I sense that Thomas would jump on her if she gave him the chance, but the way Amaya’s so in love with Kent, that’s never happening.

All’s well that ends well.

The wedding ceremony is beautiful. Amaya walks down the aisle on her grandfather’s arm. She’s a vision in a modern, off-the-shoulder wedding dress with lace sleeves.

Kent accepts her hands with tears in his eyes. He’s handsome in a classic black tux with a black bow tie. But it’s definitely that look of total and complete love that transforms his face ands sets off an emotional bomb.

Katrina starts bawling from the front row, which starts a chain reaction in the audience. Even I have to bat away a few tears, and I am not a crier.

Thomas notices me sniffling and rolls his eyes, but I just ignore him.

The deacon announces that Kent may kiss his bride and he lays a scorching hot kiss on Amaya that makes me wonder if he’s forgotten he’s in front of fifty guests and not in the suite for their wedding night.

At last, they come up for air and everyone cheers. I clap politely of course and tear my eyes off Amaya as the wedding party follows them down the aisle.

My gaze collides with Wilson who’s serving as Kent’s best man. His broad shoulders strain against that tailored black tux and his hair glistens in the sunlight.

I wish he wasn’t so darn fly. The man has the facial structure of a Greek god and he knows it.

Seeing him around everywhere is torture. I can’t wait until he…

My stomach roils. I cover my mouth. The sun beats the top of my head, pummeling me like a pro wrestler. The music plays loudly in my ears, adding to the chaos of wedding guests heading inside to the reception.

Thomas grabs my shoulder. He’s calling my name, but I’m not hearing him clearly. It sounds like he’s talking from a distance.

My gag reflexes warn I’m about to blow right on top of these lovely white chairs. I shake my brother’s hand off and dart out of the aisle.

There’s no time to shoot into the hotel and find a bathroom. I scramble as far away from the wedding party as I can, sequestering myself behind a tree. The contents of my stomach are lost in the soft grass.

I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that protein bar on the way.

“Zora!” My brother’s voice thunders through the foliage. “Zora!” A moment later, Thomas appears with Diandra in tow.

She’s wearing a one-shoulder navy dress. It’s one instance where the maid-of-honor didn’t have to wear a hideous gown to let the bride shine.

Diandra’s brown eyes are laced with worry. Without thought to her outfit, she dives right beside me. My puke smells but she doesn’t wrinkle her nose or anything. Instead, she shoves a bottle of water at me. “Drink this.”

“Thanks.” I guzzle it down.

“That better?” Thomas asks.

I nod and stand. Grass crunches beneath my heels. “Thomas, was that protein bar expired?”

“I’m not sure.”

Diandra glances at me and then looks at my brother. “Could you ask the kitchen for some ginger?”

“Ginger?”

“Yeah, it will help.”

Thomas looks at me as if seeking my permission before he leaves.

I nod. “I’ll be fine. Go.”

“I’ll be right back,” he assures me before striding out of sight.

“Can you stand?” Diandra asks.

“I think so.”

She wraps her manicured fingers over my arm and helps me up. “How far along are you?”

I almost stumble on my face but manage to catch my balance at the last minute. My head whips around to take her in. “What?”

“You’re pregnant, right?”

My jaw drops but no words fall out.

“I knew there was something different about you. You were glowing, that’s what it was.”

“I’m not pregnant,” I say with a horrified chuckle. “That’s not possible.”

“You’re the nurse. Shouldn’t you know this stuff?”

Yes, I should know this stuff. And now that I’m thinking about it, the signs are crystal clear.

I’m starting to unravel now and my voice climbs to a squeak as I argue, “There’s no way that’s even possible. I haven’t been with anyone since…”

Diandra studies me intently. “Who?”

“Wilson…”

“WILSON?” Diandra shrieks.

“WILSON?”

We both turn and watch as my brother storms through the brush, shoving branches aside like Tarzan.

“Who the hell is Wilson?” Thomas roars.

“I thought you went for ginger?” I stutter.

“I came back to ask if I was supposed to bring it whole or put it in water. What’s this about my sister being pregnant?”

The blood drains from my face. “Bro, I can explain.”

Diandra, who obviously doesn’t understand that Wilson and I are about to die at the hands of my brother, jumps in. “But you two hate each other? When did you and Wilson sleep together?”

I wince. “Can we not—?”

“You slept with some guy you can’t stand?”

“Thomas, first… calm down.”

“I’m calm.” His nose flares and anger glints in his eyes as he says, “Very calm.”

“There’s a chance I’m not pregnant.” That’s a lie because, now that I’m looking at it clearly, I’m very pregnant. “Let’s wait before we jump to any conclusions.”

Thomas turns to Diandra. “Wilson’s the best man, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?” I hiss.

Diandra shrugs. “He asked.”

I pick my way out of the brush and step toward my brother. “Don’t do anything yet. Give me a chance to verify—”

Thomas whirls around and sprints straight toward the hotel.

“Thomas!” I scream.

Diandra’s eyes are twice their usual size. “Uh-oh.”

Together, we scramble after Thomas. We’re going as fast as we can, but Thomas has two things working in his favor—first of all, he’s six feet tall with garishly long legs and second, he’s not wearing four-inch heels.

By the time we get inside, Thomas already has Wilson by the throat and pinned against the wall. He’s staring the guy down like a bull about to impale the matador.

“Let him go!” I screech, grabbing the attention of the hotel workers exiting the hall where the reception is being held.

“Are you the guy who got my sister pre—”

I plow into Thomas, knocking him off balance and thus freeing Wilson from his clasp. Wilson clutches his throat and glares at my brother.

I glare at my brother. “Don’t make a scene.”

“What’s going on, Zora?” Wilson yells.

I cringe. “I’ll explain everything later.”

“Or you can explain everything now.”

Diandra slides in, finally doing her job and outing the fire. She grabs Wilson’s arm. “Amaya needs us to take wedding photos. We should go.”

“You don’t want to ruin Amaya’s special day, right?” I ask my brother. Playing the Amaya card is low, but I’m desperate and Thomas has already shown that he’s willing to fight dirty so my gloves are coming off too.

He backs away, but he’s still staring a hole through Wilson’s face. “You’ve got thirty minutes. Diandra.”

“What? Me?” She sticks a finger in her chest.

“Bring this joker to my place as soon as your photos are done.”

“Who do you think you a—?”

I slap a hand over Wilson’s mouth. “Shut. Up.”

“I’ll bring him over the second we wrap up the shoot,” Diandra promises.

Thomas whisks me away and drives me to the pharmacy. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t have to. I know what I need to do.

My fingers tremble when I toss the pregnancy tests into the basket and shamefully slink to the counter for the cashier to scan it. She does, throwing me judgmental looks all the way.

Thomas drives me to his apartment. From the way he’s gripping that steering wheel, I realize it was the right choice to keep him away from Wilson.

My feet tap against the floor mats. I find myself wishing I could process this alone.

We make it to his apartment in one piece, and Thomas parks himself in the sofa. I shuffle to the bathroom and follow the instructions on the pregnancy test box.

The two minutes I wait for the results are the longest two minutes of my life. I spend that time swiping through social media and pretending the tiny object waiting on the edge of the counter won’t wreck my entire world.

Then my timer beeps.

I force myself to pick the test up and stare at the lines.

Thomas knocks on the door, loud enough to be heard over my thundering heartbeat. “What does it say?”

“I…” I swallow the lump in my throat. Shuffle my feet. Squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m pregnant.”