Page 18 of Pretty Little Disaster

“It is strange to be here during the day.” The other brother looks around the impressive space. “Not quite the same if you're not getting your dick sucked,” he laughs. “I say we sample some of your brother-in-law’s supply and seal the deal.”

“Of course,” I call Sabrina over with two of my fingers and she picks up a tray that's already loaded, then I watch the brothers bury their heads and get stuck in. Eventually, they slide the tray across to me. I think about all the things I have to do today, one of which involves picking Lorna up, and shake my head in refusal. It would be easy to kick back and forget my troubles. But, suddenly, life just got very fucking serious and I need my head screwed on for it.

“Your man will be dead by the end of the week. Please stay as long as you like, Sabrina can organize some female entertainment for you if it is what you want. Unfortunately, I have business to tend to. ” I shake the brothers' hands politely before heading toward the staff-only door. Then picking up the two brown paper bags I left beside it, I head up into the office to do some reading.

“So, how was your day?” Lorna looks a lot perkier when she hops into the front seat of my car.

“Busy,” I explain, pulling off and heading toward home. Why the fuck am I starting to feel nervous when I’m around her. Like I’m scared I’ll say the wrong thing.

“What did you have for lunch?” I ask, noticing the tiny smirk she makes when I take the route she suggested this morning.

“I had a chicken salad and a ermmmm...”

“A what?”

“I’m thinking a minute.” She looks across at me impatiently. She’s only been in the car a few minutes and I’m annoying her already. I’d usually find enjoyment in that. I always liked being under her skin. But I don’t want her getting all mad and worked up now. I only want my baby to feel good vibes.

“How hard can it be to remember?”

“Well, is it even important?” She frowns.

“Of course, it’s important, you’re in your first trimester and you should be getting 1,800 calories a day.” I reel off some of the knowledge I’ve picked up from the Dad’s Guide To A Healthy Pregnancy.

“It was a Tootsie Roll.” She looks a little sheepish as she sinks into her chair.

“A tootsie roll?” I shake my head.

“And a salad,” she reminds me.

“Okay.” I shrug. “So…I was thinking salmon for tonight, it’s a brain food,” I explain, checking the timer and seeing that this route is undeniably faster.

“A what?” She giggles.

“I don’t know, I guess the Omega 3 is good for the brain or something. Do you not want a smart kid?” I know I’ve spent far too long reading this afternoon when I start wondering if kale or spinach would be best as a side.

“Nic, our baby is already going to be smart. I left high school with straight As and you scored real high on that IQ test Serena made us do that one Christmas.

“What fun that was.” I roll my eyes when I’m reminded of it.

She’s right though, I was so proud of myself that Serena printed me off a certificate saying I was officially the cleverest inthe family. When I look back to those times, I don’t remember what I got for Christmas that year, or what color the walls in the living room were. I forget the names of the family my father always gave an invitation to, but I do remember how her hair always smelt like coconuts, and how her lips shimmered from the new lip gloss Madalina had got her. I remember thinking how much she’d developed, even since the last time I’d seen her. Lorna’s tits always looked big compared to her tiny frame, but the top she wore that day, which had Santa Slay written across the front of it in red glitter, really made me take notice of them. Which reminds me…

“Have you had any breast tenderness?” I check as we drive across the bridge.

“What?” Her head turns and so I can see how horrified she is by my question.

“It’s a common symptom at the stage we're at, it’s how some women first guess they’re expecting. Are your nipp–”

“I am not discussing my nipples, or my breasts with you.” She touches her hands over them protectively.

“Relax, I was just going to suggest that maybe you use a different bra. I hear sports ones are good, they offer the support at the same time as being sof–”

“Nic, are you okay?” This time her whole body turns in the seat as she stares at me.

“I’m fine,”

“It’s just, you’re acting like you swallowed the encyclopedia on pregnancy.”

“There’s an encyclopedia?” The woman in the bookstore never said anything about that.

---