Nick's POV
The moment we stepped into the house, the sound of clinking utensils and low morning chatter drifted from the dining room. Everyone was already gathered for breakfast. Georgia barely made it past the doorway before her hand flew to her mouth.
"Bathroom—" she breathed out, then sprinted toward the kitchen sink instead, gagging as another wave of morning sickness hit her.
My chest tightened. "Georgia—"
Wendy was already up from her chair, moving fast. "I'll take her, Nick. Go eat with the others. I still need to make her honey-lemon-ginger tea, and she'll probably want something warm after."
I hesitated, watching Georgia curl over the sink as Wendy pulled her hair back with practiced familiarity.
"Go," Wendy said more firmly. "She's in good hands. I'll take it from here."
