Page 22 of Mistletoe and Mischief

“If you really want to support me, there’s one thing I need right now.”

“Name it,” Colt says cautiously.

“Get on your knees and make me come.”

Thirteen

Jasmine

Strolling down the street with Sabrina and Naomi, I’m ready for another fun-filled night of pottery painting. Betsy shows up at the same time, and I make a mental note to ask why she looks a little sad, once we get settled.

Naomi holds the door open and the second I step inside, the familiar scents of clay and paint hit me.

My stomach churns violently. Without a word to my friends, I bolt for the bathroom, barely making it before I heave into the toilet.

“Jasmine? Are you okay?” Betsy’s concerned voice echoes off the tiled walls as she pulls my hair back.

I groan between my stomach’s attempts to evacuate everything I’ve ever eaten.

Naomi and Sabrina express concern while tearing paper towels and wetting them. When my stomach relents, Betsy passes a wad to me then helps me up.

“Do you think you’re pregnant?” she asks.

My eyes widen. “What? No. It’s probably just food poisoning or a flu.”

Naomi rubs my back. “When was your last period?”

“It’ll be in two days. My birth control makes it super easy to predict.” But with all of the sex, all of the cum, and birth control pills not being one hundred percent effective… it doesn’t take a math whiz to understand that pregnancy is a possibility. I almost retch again.

Betsy rummages through her oversized purse and holds up a box of pregnancy tests.

“Why do you have those?” Sabrina asks.

Betsy smiles weakly. “I was going to take one tonight.”

We stare at her in silence, no one ready to ask the obvious… Her stepdad? Is this why she looked sad? I would have thought she—out of all of us—would be elated.

She opens the box, pulls out two plastic packages, and hands one to me. “We can take them together.”

“Not the kind of bonding I was hoping for tonight. I’ll put my faith in my birth control pills and wait two days. Anyone else need it?” I wave the stick.

Nervous glances pass between all of us. The truth is written all over their faces. Any of us could be pregnant. The Christmas Cherry Auction isn’t just magical about creating relationships. A lot of babies happen because of it.

“Truth be told… I have a test at home,” Sabrina says gently.

Naomi nods in agreement. “Same. Go ahead, Jasmine. Take it so we know if we’re going to talk about your belly while we paint or if we need to take you home and make you chicken soup.”

I shouldn’t stay if I’m actually sick. Betsy and I take the tests, and the minutes slog past like hours while we try to occupy each other with small talk and stop anyone else from entering the bathroom.

When the time is up, the four of us step to the sink where we set the tests. Maybe it’s the multiplied effect of two tests, but the number of bright pink lines seems larger than life.

I try for humor while Sabrina washes the sink out. “The good news is that we’re all here. I need help figuring out how to tell the guys.”

Relinquishing our stronghold of the bathroom, we resume our regularly scheduled fun, setting our purses on the table and selecting our pottery. Except this is anything but a regular evening. In nine months, I’ll be setting a diaper bag on the table—if I’m even able to come. Or I’ll be finding a babysitter, but if I’ve been working all day, will I just want to be home with my baby? Will sleepless nights steal my energy?

How the fuck do moms do this? I’ll save that buzzkill for a later date.

Attempting to focus on the moment, I stare at a cute, classic piggy bank, symbolic of a child. My whirlwind of thoughts continues as the chatter around me fades into background.

---