Western Waves (Compass 3)

“The voices?”

“The ones in your head that are lying to you. They aren’t your own. Don’t let them win.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The more time I spent with Damian, the more I began to realize that throughout my life, my thoughts were not my own. They were a collection of thoughts from the people who once surrounded me.

I wished I was around better people growing up. Maybe it would’ve made it easier for me to think better thoughts.

I released a weighted breath as Damian kissed my neck once more. “More than enough.”

More than enough.

We headed to the gala, and even though I felt out of place around everyone else at the event, I felt right at home with Damian’s arm wrapped around mine. I was starting to believe that whenever he was around, my life was that much better. It was hard to imagine that just mere months ago, we were strangers. Now, I couldn’t imagine a world where Damian Blackstone didn’t exist.

He made sure to keep me close to him that night and was pretty good at calming my troubled nerves about me not fitting in with the body standard that surrounded us. When some women would hit on him right in front of me, Damian’s arm would always wrap around my waist, and he’d pull me in closer to him.

At one point, he leaned in and whispered the word, “Mine,” against my ear.

I leaned into him and gently sucked on his earlobe before whispering back, “Mine.”

We were two misfits that were surrounded by a world in which we didn’t belong. Yet still, we felt comfortable because we had one another. That was a new kind of comfort to me, and it felt effortless.

“Can you get me a water?” I asked Damian. “I’m feeling a little off.”

“Of course,” Damian said, kissing my forehead. “Be right back.”

I nodded as I sat at a table. As he went to get me a water without question, I couldn’t help but think how Jeff would’ve called me lazy for not going to get it myself. Damian did it without any negative thoughts attached to it. I didn’t know that men like him truly existed outside of romantic comedies. He was gentle with my sometimes-frantic heart and still told me I was more than enough.

As he walked away, I grimaced the moment I saw Catherine approaching me. She looked breathtaking, which wasn’t a surprise. Her grimace against her face, though, made me feel as if I were that same little girl who only wanted her approval.

“Stella,” she coldly stated. “I thought I told Damian not to bring you.”

“He’s not really one to follow the rules,” I said, pushing out a smile. I stood from my chair, feeling a bit light-headed, but shook it off the best I could. “You look amazing, Catherine.”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I do. And you look…” She eyed me up and down and pursed her lips together. “You look like something, I suppose.”

I felt the anxiety building as her undercutting comments tried to make hooks within me. They were so bad for my nerves that I felt like I was going to vomit.

Wait.

No.

I was vomiting.

Oh my gosh.

I threw up on Catherine’s designer shoes.

The whole room stared at me in disbelief.

Before I could even consider an apology, another wave of nausea hit me, forcing me to dash to the restroom and fall into a stall. Before I knew it, I was throwing up violently. I felt two hands wrap around my dangling hair and pull it out of the way of the toilet as I purged the contents of my stomach.

When I recovered from vomiting, I sat back on my heels.

“Are you okay?” Damian asked.

I went to reply but began throwing up again.

“Food poisoning, maybe?” he wondered, but my thoughts were veered in a different direction as I tried to do the math in my head. When was the last time I was on my period? It couldn’t have been that long ago, could it? Then again, it was always irregular.

My mind was racing as I shook my head. “Will you take me somewhere?” I asked.

We stood in the tampon aisle of the drugstore dressed to the nines in our fancy outfits, but we weren’t there to get tampons, unfortunately.

I stared at the different pregnancy tests in front of me. A wave of sickness hit me, but I wasn’t certain if it was from being ill earlier or the idea that I might be pregnant.

“I don’t know which one to get,” I whispered to Damian.

“Then get them all,” he said, swiping a ton of them and tossing them into the basket he was carrying for me.

Though I was shaken up from the idea of being pregnant, the idea of carrying Damian’s child didn’t freak me out as much as it should’ve. I should’ve been panicking more, but Damian’s calm demeanor somehow eased my soul a little. We’d been safe every time we’d slept together, but still, there was always the chance we somehow slipped up and had an accident.