#Chapter 368: Messy Love

Nina I woke up to the sharp pang of nausea hitting me like a freight train. My stomach was a swirl of discomfort, making the mere thought of breakfast unbearable. Enzo, lying beside me, seemed to sense my discomfort before I even articulated it, his eyes clouded with residual tension from our argument last night. “Morning,” he said, his voice cautious. “How are you feeling?” “Not great,” I admitted, clutching my belly. “Morning sickness is a nightmare.” He looked concerned, sitting up. “Let’s get you something to eat, then. Something to settle your stomach.” “I guess,” I muttered, my heart sinking at the thought. I could almost smell the hotel breakfast from here—syrupy French toast, eggs, bacon—all of which made my stomach churn. He noticed my hesitation and furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?” “It’s just…” I began, nearly choking on the words, “the smell alone will make me sick, I’m afraid.” Enzo sighed, getting out of bed and beginning to dig through his bag fo