Page 39 of Seducing Daddy

Two Years Later

Nonna spoke with mock severity from the door of the restroom at The Board Room, and I froze, willing myself not to puke in front of her. “Madonna Santa, you gave us a fright! Are you okay in there?”

“Just a sec,” I croaked from behind the stall door, a flood of watery saliva filling my mouth. Normally, I ate the smoked duck on the charcuterie party platter as if it were crack. However, before Rex and I could even get to the main event, I had to dash to the toilet. The smell of that poultry nearly had me coughing up my cookies in front of everyone. There wasn’t much to see in our small town, so hearing about how Mrs. Jolene Pritchett, owner of the now well-known Peen-Unseen, puked right in front of the patrons of the jam-packed restaurant, would make those who didn’t witness it for themselves happy. No matter how nauseous, I refused to give the gossipmongers a thrill. It was bad enough following F.W.’s surprise visit. I was the biggest news in town for a long while, what with me escaping an abusive marriage, dating the town’s hottest preacher, and running a company founded on sex-positive products for women.

I had my mother-in-law to thank for bringing idle talk to a screeching halt, so far as that was possible. An increase in orders made researching the potential for mass-manufacturing crochet products necessary. Unlike sewing and knitting, which could be cheaply produced using machine power and synthetic fibers, it just wasn’t true for crochet. The stitches were too intricate and couldn’t be replicated mechanically. Mama Pritchett didn’t let me give up, enlisting homeless community members at the center, teaching them how to crochet and giving them a chance to be paid for piecemeal. After that proved successful, we helped get forty people into permanent housing and, eventually, added on full-time benefits for crocheting Peen-Unseen. Mama Pritchett even came up with the idea of recruiting young women from the local treatment program where I made quarterly donations. She and I gave crochet lessons there, and the girls were so inspired they came up with designs for crochet lingerie, which were now sold on my website.

My business, and the work it provided to people in our town who really needed it, made it the center of attention in a good way. I didn’t want to change that by coughing up my cookies on the polished oak floor in front of the good citizens of Briarville while they sampled the local cheeses and cured meats.

The threat of nausea having passed for the moment, I opened the door to see Jessica twirling her hair with her fingers, standing beside my sassy Italian friend. “What’s going on?” She raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Yeah, why did you leave the table so suddenly?” asked Nonna, an anxious look on her face.

It might not be the most glamorous location to make my announcement, but I couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

“You guys, it’s the whole reason Rex and I asked you out tonight. I’m pregnant!”

“I knew it!” Nonna wore a look of triumph, and Jessica embraced me at once.

“Careful, guys. No sudden movements,” I warned, realizing it was too late. The smell of Jessica’s Love’s Baby Soft perfume made me have to hurl. I bolted for the toilet, leaning my head over the bowl and emptying my stomach.

Emergency over, I grumbled, “Dear God, when will it end?” This was only my first trimester, and I was already sick and tired of being preggo. “Does it get any better?” I asked.

“Trust me. You think you just want to get that baby out of you? To get your body back? Soon as it happens, you want to stuff them back inside,” warned Nonna.

“So much for the miracle of birth,” I complained.

Nonna chimed in. “Yeah, that’s a load of horseshit. Anyone tells you pregnancy is a beautiful experience? You have my permission to cut a bitch.”

“Nonna, gosh. Sometimes I wonder about you.” Jessica gave a soft laugh.

My funny friend had all of our attention as she made motions to disrobe, then realized her arms were full and said to Jessica, “Here. Hold my bag.”

Jessica and I quirked our brows at each other, exchanging a silent, “Really?”

Yanking her sweater over her head, she revealed a black T-shirt with pink glitter text that read Gangster Granny.

“There. Now it’s official,” Nonna said, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “Glad I got this T-shirt specially made. Got one for the original Mrs. Pritchett, too. Just like her, see?” she explained, holding up a white shirt that read TGIF: This Grandma is Fabulous. “Real classy.”

“How’d you know Jolene was pregnant, Nonna?” Jessica wondered.

“Oh, please, it’s only obvs. Her boobs are bigger. Every five seconds, she has to pee. She naps more than Margot, and now add to that, she’s Polly Pukester.” She exhaled a long sigh of contentment. “The writing is on the wall.”

Jessica’s features became more animated. “Oh, my stars, Jolene. I can’t wait to be an auntie!”

Just then TGIF herself walked into the restroom. We all stood shoulder to shoulder in a circle in front of the sinks, shuffling closer to make more room. “What’s going on?” she wavered, trying to comprehend what was happening.

I couldn’t make her wait any longer. “Mama Pritchett, I’m pregnant! I had to race to the bathroom so I didn’t upchuck on the floor in there. Ugh. The smells.”

Her smile broadened in approval, and she threw her arms around me. “I knew it! Still, I can’t believe I’m actually going to be a grandma.”

“Here, put this on.” Nonna held out her granny gift. “That way it’s obvi to everyone how rad you are.”

I felt a warm glow ripple through me, surpassing all the urges to barf for the moment. “You guys, I love you all so much. I just don’t know how long I’ll last tonight. I’m not fit to take out in public right now.”

Jessica reassured me, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll tell Lorenzo the good news really quick and send you on your way with some saltine crackers. I hear the sickness gets better, Jolene.” She leaned over and whispered so no one could hear, “Then you have the yippy kay aye of second-trimester sex to look forward to, so it’s not all bad.”

“If I never see another penis again, it will be too soon,” I said, wetting paper towels under the faucet and pressing them to my forehead. “Let’s get this over with.

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