Page 50 of I Hate You (Rockford Falls 4)

They came in and hugged me, the three of us holding on to each other. I felt like I couldn’t let go. They were all I had. My parents were gone, and I didn’t have any siblings. I had these women and my baby. That was my family now. I clung to them even more tightly at the thought.

“You guys! You’re the best,” I sniffed when I finally got myself together.

“Hormones much?” Trixie chuckled at me. I nodded a watery nod and blew my nose.

“I brought you soup from the diner,” she added. “It’s good for you. And drink the Gatorade. You do not want to dehydrate and end up in OB/GYN triage with an IV in your arm and a catheter in your you-know-what.”

“Oh my God,” I said, aghast, “do not tell me stuff like that! I’m already panicked enough.”

“Well, if you don’t like the IV and the catheter, I’m not going to be the one to tell you where the baby comes out,” Michelle said wryly.

“I know that part,” I said rolling my eyes. “And despite appearances, I do know what causes pregnancy and how to prevent.”

“Use a condom.”

“Don’t get carried away and make stupid, impulsive decisions,” I said. “I’m lucky I just got pregnant. I could’ve gotten some kind of STI. I was irresponsible.”

I sat down and took a drink of the Gatorade. “You know, this is red. I really shouldn’t drink it on the couch. I could spill.”

‘Oh, honey,” Trixie laughed. “Your belongings will all be trash in a few months. Spit up and formula and poop on everything. Just go ahead and break the couch in with some Gatorade. It’s like a baptism for all the messes to come. You have to face that fact.”

“Have you decided what you want to do?” Michelle asked carefully, so gently.

“I have no idea how I’m going to handle everything with my job and all that. The only thing I’m sure about is keeping my baby. Even when I was scared shitless and stared at that pregnancy test like it was a poisonous snake, I never considered not keeping him.”

“Him now? It’s a boy?” Trixie asked.

I shrugged, “Probably. I mean, it seems like a boy.”

“Why do you think that?” she asked. “I mean, I did the whole online quiz with, like, are you craving salty or sweet? Carrying high or low? Legs swollen or face puffy—the answer to the last one is both, by the way. I still couldn’t get a vibe for if it was a boy or girl until I actually had the baby. So are you psychic?”

“Maybe he and I have a telepathic connection,” I teased, “through the umbilical cord or something.”

“Yeah, that’s not how biology works, honey,” Michelle said. “And you know we’re here for you. Whatever you need. I know we talked about it last night, but, for real. I’m going to be an aunt. Dibs on reading him the Harry Potter books when he’s old enough, and don’t you dare show him the movies first.”

“Deal,” I said with a half-smile. “What about you? What do you call dibs on?”

“Teaching him to arrange flowers, obviously. No fair sneaking in and showing him how to make a hand tied bouquet before I get to show him.”

“That is not in my skill set and you know it. Although I can’t promise he’ll be interested in flower arranging.”

“He might be. You never know. There are men who are great floral designers, at some of the finest hotels in the world as a matter of fact,” she said.

“Fine, he can be a florist if he wants to,” I laughed, “teach him everything you know. I just—that’s the only thing I feel good about. I feel like I know him. He’s not a stranger. He’s my baby. And I’m going to take the best care of him.”

“Have you set up a doctor’s appointment yet?”

“Yeah, I set one up on the app on the way home. I go in next Friday.”

“Watch out for that first ultrasound. Upside, you get to see your little peanut, downside, they stick this long plastic wand up your coochie,” Trixie said.

“Oh good Lord,” I groaned. “I thought they just used the thing they run across your belly.”

“When the baby’s bigger, they will. This way they can see your ovaries and stuff, and you get to see the baby. It looks like a Styrofoam packing peanut, but you’re gonna think it’s so cute.”

“I’ll go with you,” Michelle said. “What time is it?”

“It’s at four. But you don’t have to. I’m a single mom. Might as well get used to doing this on my own,” I said with a shrug.

“You’re not alone and you know it,” she said.

“Maybe she wants to take Noah with her for the first appointment,” Trixie said.

“Uh, no.” I said. “Absolutely not. I’m going to be a nervous wreck anyway. I don’t need to worry about Noah sitting there watching a technician jam an ultrasound dildo up inside me. That’s horrifying. Plus, I’m not 100% sure about what I’m going to tell him.”

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