I WOKE UP WITH THE UNWANTED FEELING to vomit, my stomach churning like a stormy sea. Clutching my middle, I stumbled out of bed and sprinted towards the bathroom, desperately hoping to reach the porcelain bowl in time.

It had been about a year now since the morning sickness with Janus first started, and I haven't missed waking up like this at all. One too many champagne glasses with a low alcohol tolerance--and I'm the only one to blame.

As I knelt before the toilet bowl, waves of nausea overcame me. Once spilling last night's meal into the toilet, the acrid taste of bile flooded my mouth, the sound reverberating through the small bathroom.

I heard the door creak open and unluckily for me, walked in Eliot, his hair tousled from sleep and his eyes heavy with fatigue. Without a word, he joined to my side and knelt down behind me, soft fingers grazing the chilled skin of my forehead and brushing the strands of hair from my face, holding them back with tenderness. 

It happened again, my sweaty palms attaching to the sides of the toilet with discomfort. 

Once I believed myself to be finished, I let out a sigh before slowly standing up. 

"Easy there, tiger," Eliot said, his warm hand grasping my cold one as he guided me to the sink with his other hand on my back. 

I turned the rusted sink faucet on and cupped my hands together, allowing the water to pour into the bowl I've made my palms into before using it to rinse my mouth out. 

I looked up at Eliot through the dirtied mirror and his tired eyes locked onto mine as he offered me a soft smile, a glimmer of concern shining through the weariness.

"Too much to drink?" he asked with soft playfulness, but it was obvious to anyone that, that was the situation at hand.  

His presence alone was an aid to my turbulent soul. I reached down into the cabinet below the sink and out-pulled the listerine. 

Taking the cap-full of the purple liquid, I took it back in my mouth as if it was a shot glass of spearmint-flavored tequila and swished it around in my mouth. 

As the waves of sickness subsided and I spat the mouthwash out into the sink, I leaned over and grabbed my toothbrush. 

"I'm sorry," I murmured. I hated apologizing and I hated needing to. But I was sorry. 

Eliot placed his hand on my hip, just at that spot that always managed to make me feel warm and fuzzy inside and send a chill down my spine. He pressed a soft kiss to the side of my head and shook his head. "Never apologize for needing me." he says softly, offering a warm smile and he's doing that thing again--reading my goddamn mind. "I'm here because I want to be, because I care about you. There's nothing you could ever do that would make me regret being by your side."

The toothbrush buzzes against my teeth as I move it around but I only turn it on because I don't know how to respond to Eliot's words. I've never been in a relationship--of any sort--where I'd been given such affirmations. I've never been loved by a good person before. Not since Sejanus or Mia. 

And it makes me wonder. 

I wonder to myself in silence, warring with my brain as he remains behind me, thumb grazing against the bare skin of my hip, just above where my sweatpants lay. 

I spit out the toothpaste foam and repeat the rinsing routine. 

"You should move in with me," he says, and when I look to meet his gaze in the mirror, all I see are two entirely genuine brown eyes. 

I turn around, my back leaning against the counter as I look up at him, now face to face. "What?" 

He gives a lopsided smile and a shrug. "It shouldn't be anything different right?"

It's true, Eliot has been here every day and most nights. Me living with him wouldn't be much different at all. 

His hands find my sides and he pulls me closer to him, as if he can hardly bear being so far apart from me again. 

"Janus could have her own room, a crib," he offers, and the offer sounds nice and tempting.

Living in a much nice apartment, in a safe neighborhood, without mold building in the walls and rust coming from the sink, a real bed, it sounded nice. 

It was a chance for her to get her old life back. Safe and comfortable. 

The palm of his hand brushes against the side of my face and he watches me like I'm the most abstract piece of art he's seen. 

He kisses me and his lips are so soft they're a gentle reminder of a better life I could live. 

He pulls away but keeps his forehead rested against mine. "Move in with me." 

And I say yes.