[Camden]
I wake up with a vicious hangover, the sunlight streaming through the blinds feeling like spears in my eyeballs. My stomach rolls with the whiskey I ingested the night before, and I reach out for Kendall, groaning.
She’s not in bed, and I sit up quickly, more pain spearing through my head.
“Kendall?”
She pops her head into the door. “I’m making pancakes,” she chirps, and I blink, feeling like my eyelids are sticking together.
“You are? With one arm?” I ask incredulously.
“It is kind of hard,” she admits, laughing a little, and I can’t believe she’s in such good spirits after everything that happened.
She’s pregnant. The thought slams into me like a train, and I feel sick all over again, bolting out of bed and barely making it to the bathroom before throwing up in the toilet
