Page 82 of The One I Hate
I shake my head. “I don’t need to see a doctor because I’ve been a little nauseous. That’s what Pepto is for. You know. The pink stuff.”
“Well, you’re going to need a doctor, since you’re pregnant.”
I snap my gaze to hers, which makes me want to be sick all over again. “What did you just say?”
“I think, possibly, maybe, you might be pregnant.”
I laugh. I actually laugh so much I throw up again, that’s how funny it is.
When that round’s done, I take the washcloth off my neck and quickly wipe my mouth with it. “Listen, I know we haven’t seen each other as much as we were used to, but I can assure you, I’m not pregnant.”
“Really? Morning sickness. Constant exhaustion. Steady nausea. And while I promise I wasn’t staring, your boobs are looking rather…generous.”
I take a second to think about it, and shit, they are sore. So sore.
Which I noticed over the last few days, but I just thought that was a sign of my period coming.
The period that hasn’t come.
That I haven’t had since I moved here.
“Oh my God! I haven’t had my period. Since…I don’t know!” Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!. “Oh my God, Mellie, I can’t be pregnant. I can’t be.”
I mean it. I can’t be. There’s never a good time to be accidentally pregnant, but this is for sure the worst time for me. I’m days away from the restaurant opening. Supplies are starting to be delivered, and we’re in the final stages of getting everything ready. I was supposed to meet with the line cooks who wanted to stay on from Mona’s this week. I have a whole restaurant to set up. I don’t have time to be pregnant.
And then there’s the whole fact that if I am, this is Simon’s baby.
The man who most likely hates me now.
The man who, as it turns out, I don’t hate at all.
I curl up in a ball against my bathtub as my friend comes over and puts her arms around me. “Hey, we don’t know anything yet. I’m sorry I freaked you out. It’s probably not the case. You know I like to assume the worst.”
“You are a literal ray of fucking sunshine, and the glass is always overflowing. Quit trying to make me feel better.”
“I’m sorry,” she says as she pulls me in tighter. “Okay. Apparently my observation might have some possibilities, which means there’s only one thing to do.”
“Crawl in a hole, hope this was a false alarm, and hide from the world until it passes?”
She laughs. “Unfortunately, no. It’s time you pee on the stick.”
I couldn’t go and buy it. One, I was embarrassed, and two, another round of sickness hit, making me physically unable to leave my bathroom. And bless Mellie’s heart, she drove a half hour out of town to buy six different kinds of tests.
And all six are telling me that I’m pregnant.
“Holy shit! You’re going to be a mama!” Mellie is squeezing me while jumping up and down as I stand still, and in shock, in my bathroom.
I don’t say anything. I don’t think I even blink. I just stare down at the six tests and the ten pink lines staring back at me. It’s not twelve because one of the tests just says “pregnant.”
Thanks, test. Really drove the point home when I saw it in writing.
“I’m going to be a mom.”
I might have whispered the words, but I might as well have shouted them from the rooftops. And the second the last word comes out, the reality hits.
I’m going to be a mom.
A single mom.
