Painted Lady {h.s}

1

★ LORELAI ★

March 23rd
1999

"Yeah... Let it all out... God, this is disgusting," Harry mutters from behind me as he holds my hair away from my face while I throw up into the toilet. "You've been sick all week, maybe we should go to the doctor."

I pull back from the toilet seat, finally feeling a bit better. "You think?" I ask in a sarcastic tone.

"C'mon, get up. We'll get ready and go." He takes my hands into his as raises me to my feet.

It's hardly been a week since we got home from finishing the tour, and this is how every morning has gone since. We've been traveling for so long so I'm pretty sure I just picked up some kind of stomach bug, but it really sucks. I mean, it's like clockwork. Every morning around the same time, I'm forcefully awoken by overwhelming nausea. Harry is always already up, so he rushes me to the bathroom. Then, I do what needs to be done, and that's that. For the rest of the day I'm completely fine. Well if you could call extreme exhaustion and hyper mood swings fine.

-

"Hi, I'm Doctor Levinson! I've read here in your file that you've been throwing up a lot recently, do you have any idea what could be causing this?" The doctor sits down on her rolling chair, wheeling herself to the side of the bed I sit on.

"Well we just got home from traveling a bunch and I feel like it somehow connects to that," I explain, watching as she jots something down on her clipboard.

"Okay, we'll run some tests and get to the bottom of this. Does that sound okay?" I nod in response. "Okay, the nurse will be with you shortly." She quickly stands up and exits the room.

With just the sound of the hum from the air conditioning, I can do nothing but stew on what could be going on. I think the stomach bug is the most reasonable option, but what if it's something completely different.

"Lor... What if you're...?" The sentence dies off in Harry's throat, his voice hesitant to speak.

That could very well be a possibility too, but I just don't know if I want to fully believe that one just yet. With the tour just ending and Harry already talking about getting back into the studio, I just don't want to think about a life-changing possibility.

"If I am, it's your fault" I mutter, peering at Harry in the corner of the room.

He stands from his chair, approaching me on the bed. "Well technically it's both of our faults." He shrugs his shoulders.

"No, no. If I am pregnant, it would be because of your birthday."

"That was a good birthday," He laughs lightly and I shoot daggers at him. "What! As much as I loved it, and it I really loved it, no one told you that's what I wanted for my birthday!"

"Well sorry for trying to make my husband's twenty-fifth birthday memorable!" I speak, a bit of venom laced on my tongue.

"Oh it's definitely one for the books! But, baby, we've had sex after that." He whispers the word like it's something dirty.

"Why are you whispering? This is a hospital, they don't care!"

"I don't need all these doctors in the know about our sex life!" He whisper shouts.

"Oh my god." I slowly lay back onto the bed.

"Lor, baby." Harry hovers over me, one of his hands grabbing mine and interlacing our fingers. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Always." I get nervous about what he is going to say.

"If you are... I'll be really happy about it."