I shake my head. “Not now, Yulia.”
“Are you okay?” she asks.
Because I have no words to articulate the truth of how I’m feeling, I choose instead to collapse onto my bed face-first. A few seconds later, I feel the mattress shift.
I support myself on my elbows and look at Yulia. She’s sitting next to me. “I heard you throwing up in there,” she tells me.
“That was because of your son,” I say accusingly, even though I know it’s not fair to blame her.
She raises her eyebrows. “You’re pregnant?”
My brow creases immediately. “Of course not! I just… No, Jesus. He made me sick. Literally and figuratively.”
“I heard a conversation he was having with Isab—with Jennifer,” I say. “I suppose it’s stuff I should already know. But I guess I’m still a little naïve.”
“You’ve developed feelings for
