Page 584 of The Winslow Brothers

Damn, those suckers are sensitive today.

I stare at my naked breasts in the mirror.

And a bit on the big side too…

My brain takes inventory of my current state—emotional, sensitive boobs, migraines, lower back pain—and I drop my toothbrush onto the counter.

No way, right? No fucking way.

I mean, I’m forty-three. There’s no way I’m pregnant.

I look at my boobs again in the mirror, and when I notice that my nipples are red as fucking roses, I decide it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to just make sure that I’m not pregnant.

Obviously, I’m not. I mean, that would be crazy. But I’ll just grab a test at the grocery store while I’m out getting stuff for dinner tonight.

Yeah. That’s exactly what I’ll do.

Just in case.

Maria

An hour later, I’m surrounded by six pregnancy tests, all out of their boxes, and all freshly peed on by yours truly.

I don’t know what made me take six of these fuckers, but here we are.

I set my phone timer to the recommended five minutes and head back into the kitchen to start cutting up some fruit and vegetables while I wait on the confirmation that I’m not pregnant.

And I almost want to laugh at myself that I’m even taking these tests. I mean, if anything, I’m probably nearing freaking menopause, not another round of motherhood.

My phone’s alarm goes off, and I wash my hands in the sink before heading back into our bathroom to check the results. You know, the ones that are going to say,You’re not pregnant, you’re just a little crazy.

I grab the first one off the counter and look down at it—Pregnant.

What the…?

Instantly, I start picking up the other five sticks.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

Holy shit! I’m not in menopause! I’m with child!

I stare at myself in the reflection of the mirror, and I look exactly how a forty-three-year-old woman with a nine-month-old baby who just found out she’s pregnant would look. Absolutely freaked out.

How am I pregnant? I’m on birth control!

“Oh, c’mon, Maria. You’re old enough to know that birth control isn’t pregnancy-proof. Only abstinence is,” I muse, now talking to myself. “And since your husband is crazy hot and you just looooove having sex with him, abstaining is out of the question for you.”

Remy and I are going to have a baby.

Izzy is going to have a little sister or little brother.

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