Page 46 of Floored

"Do you think the sheep is cute?" I whispered to little Raspberry. "Maybe we'll do sheep in your nursery."

When I left the room, I couldn't stop my brain from whirring with nervous speculation of how this phone call was going to go.

My phone buzzed.

Claire: I'll be there in ten minutes. How do you want to do this?

I took a deep breath and went down to the kitchen, where I'd decided to do the FaceTime call on my laptop, so I could see their faces more clearly. Unconsciously, my hand drifted to the nonexistent bump of my belly.

My little raspberry baby was still hiding, invisible to the naked eye, except for maybe the tiniest tightness on the waistband of my pants. A thought zipped into my head, completely unwanted, where I wondered if our mom—Brooke—had shown much, or if she'd been one of those pregnant women who suddenly looked like they'd shoved a basketball under their shirt.

And it was just another question I couldn't answer. I'd maybe seen one picture of her pregnant with me and Claire. Revisiting those parts of our past wasn't exactly high on the priority list. All I remembered of the picture was a giant bump covered by the black lace of some fancy dress she'd worn for a black-tie event she'd attended with our father.

The heel of my hand—still clutching the small sheep—pressed on the sudden spike in pressure on my chest, and I forced that image out of my head. Claire. I needed to answer Claire. How did I want to do this?

Me: Quickly and painlessly.

Claire: I know. But I meant more like, do you want me to mentally prep them?

I sat at the table and flipped open my MacBook. My hand shook a little when I pulled up the FaceTime.

Me: Just let them know that I'm okay, but I need to talk to them about something and I wanted you there for support.

Claire: You've got it.

Claire: It'll be okay. I promise.

Claire: Heading in. I LOVE YOU, LEE.

"I think I'm gonna puke," I whispered. With a quick glance at the clock, I wondered if I could shove another scone down before this circus kicked off. Pinching my eyes shut, I resisted because no matter how delicious it was, the scone would not solve anything. And that was the truth with Jude, as well. Having him with me to do this wouldn't make the words any easier to get out. Not to mention that, despite what he might believe, I wasn't worried about their disappointment. I was worried about their worry.

They'd want me home immediately.

They'd want to wrap me in their arms and help me carry the load, and the worst thing I could ask of my big, chaotic, opinionated family was to stay away.

When the bridge of my nose started tingling, it was the first warning sign that my entire playbook for this call was going to go to shit. I clenched my jaw together and took a deep breath.

"Stupid hormones," I said in a voice that wavered dangerously. And they were stupid. In my mind, I imagined my emotions like an angry ocean—white-capped waves that had stayed off in the distance until this very moment. My hand went to my belly again, and I felt calmer. It would be fine. We would be fine.

Claire: They're worried, but okay. I'm calling now.

Before I could second-guess it, I stood, darted to the cupboard, and snatched the bag of scones, shoving a piece of one in my mouth before I took my seat again. I set the sheep just beyond the laptop, where I could see the smiling black mouth. The ringing began as I swallowed my scone, and I clicked the touchpad to answer the call. At the sight of Logan and Paige, huddled close at the table where we'd eaten a million meals, I almost lost my grip.

"HI! We miss you. Are you okay?" Paige asked. Logan wrapped an arm around her shoulder and studied the screen with so much intensity that I almost laughed.

"Hi." I exhaled. "It's good to see your faces."

They exchanged a quick look. "You doing okay, kid?" Logan asked.

"I'm eating a scone in England. How can I not be okay?" I lifted the baked good in question, and Paige gave me a tiny smile, but they were not fooled by my answer.

Claire popped her head in behind Logan's shoulder. "I'm sitting over here, but I can hear you just fine."

"Why is your sister here for this?" Logan asked.

Right. Okay then.

"Logan," Claire said, "don't interrogate her. I'm here because she asked me to be."

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