I threw up for the third morning in a row.
Sienna held my hair back in the clubhouse bathroom, her expression somewhere between concern and knowing amusement.
"You need to tell him," she said.
"Tell him what? That I have got food poisoning? The flu? General exhaustion from being shot at constantly?"
"Eva. You are three weeks late. You have been nauseous every morning. And you keep crying at random things." She handed me a towel. "Take the test."
"What test?"
She pulled a pregnancy test from her jacket. "This test. The one I bought yesterday when you threw up after smelling coffee."
My hands shook as I took it. "This is not possible. We have been careful—"
"Careful is not foolproof. Especially when you are living in constant danger and stress does weird things to birth control." Sie
