His lips twist in disappointment, and he looks longingly at the absurd watch. “Huh. Guess you’re right.”
I stomp my foot in frustration. “Reno, can you stop baby shopping for two seconds? We need to talk.” At least he seems to have put all the boxes away, probably in one of the three spare bedrooms.
He looks up again, concern creasing his forehead. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
I drop the truth bomb on him. “My family knows I’m pregnant.”
He jumps off the couch, his head whipping back and forth like my family is secretly hiding behind the entertainment center to ambush us. “What? How did they find out?”
“Because I puked at the restaurant.”
Reno is on me in a second, his hand to my forehead, checking for a fever. “Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital? Did you take anything?” He spits the questions in rapid-fire succession, and I can’t help but feel touched at his doting.
“I’m fine. I smelled the anchovies on a pizza, and blech.” I make a puke face.
He doesn’t look convinced and releases me to pick up the pregnancy book he’s read about four-hundred times. There are colorful tabs sticking out everywhere, and he calls it his Baby Bible.
“I read something in here… Let’s see… Green tabs for nausea and vomiting…” Flipping through the pages, he finds what he’s looking for. “Ha! Ginger tea. Sit down, and I’ll bring you some.”
He points at his plush French-blue couch, and I inhale a deep breath for patience. “Reno, focus,” I tell him, snapping my fingers in front of his face. “Family, pregnancy, remember?”
When he sees I’m not going to sit, he takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen before lifting me to sit on the blue agate countertop near the stove.
“What happened after you barfed?” he asks as he digs through an overhead cabinet, ostensibly looking for tea bags.
“Well, Holly gets nauseated when she smells anchovies too. A lot of pregnant women have that problem with strong odors. Who the hell came up with anchovies on pizza anyway? Like someone wassitting around and thought, ‘Hey, let’s take the most delicious food ever invented and throw some stinky-ass fish on it?’”
“True. Make sure to stay away from Caesar salad dressing too. It has anchovy paste and some of them are prepared with raw eggs, so that’s not safe for you while you’re pregnant.”
“How did you know that?”
“Baby Bible,” he says, flashing me a smug look before reading the back of a small box. “So they guessed it because you got sick?”
“Yes. Well, Holly did and then blurted it out to everyone.”
He presses his lips together and nods resignedly as he puts the water on to boil. “Okay, I’ll go talk to Baylor as soon as I’m done making your tea. How mad was he?”
“He doesn’t know about you and me yet. You said you wanted to be there when I told him.”
“Right. In two weeks.” His eyebrows inch together as he walks toward me and wedges his hips between my thighs. “So who do they think the father is?”
I close my eyes and breathe deeply in and out. “A sperm donor.”
Reno’s mouth pops open. “You lied to them?”
“Not technically,” I hedge, shaking my head. “I’d mentioned the whole sperm bank thing to my siblings and Holly once before, so they automatically assumed that was how I got knocked up. So I… didn’t correct them,” I finish with a shrug.
Soft lips brush across my temple as Reno pulls me close. “Were they as excited as I am?”
I chuckle and rub my hands up and down his back. “I don’t think anyone anywhere has ever been as excited as you. But they were all thrilled and very supportive.”
“Good,” he says, leaving the cradle of my legs to work on the tea. “Because I want you to have all the support you need with the twins while I’m on the road.”
“Shit!” I say, realizing something I’d forgotten. “I didn’t even get the chance to tell them I’m carrying twins.”
Reno looks at me oddly as he steeps the tea. “How did that not come up?”
I blow out a sigh. “Because Holly’s crazy ass started talking about inseminating beavers and turkey basters and…” I look down at the spot between my legs. “Do you think my vagina is normal? You know, like a standard size and everything?”
