“I dunno,” I laugh. “She skipped the whole ‘all I want for Christmas is my two front teeth’ phase and went straight into wanting her very own set of boobies.”
“Speaking of,” he growls, fixing his hungry eyes on my tits. “Is that some kinda magic bikini top you got on there? The girls are lookin’ nice.”
“Definitely not,” I say, catching him off guard when I shove him under the water.
After a few minutes of riding the surf, my stomach begins to make some waves of its own. I leave Prissy with Wyatt, citing a need to use the restroom, barely making it inside before expelling every bit of my breakfast and then some into the trash can.
After rinsing my mouth a few times, I decide I won’t even mention my little bout of nausea to the other two. No sense in messing up their vacation as well.
Sweat beads my brow when I return to the pool, and they’re not where I left them. I take slow, practiced breaths as I scour the area while going to my bag to check my phone, expelling a huge sigh of relief when I see that there’s a message waiting. “Took her to ride the Howlin’ Tornado. You can repay me in sexual favors at a later date.’” A second message follows with a series of three emojis: a winky face, a tongue, and an eggplant.
I get to the attraction just in time to see the two of them come flying down, with identical looks of elation plastered on their faces.
My heart threatens to burst from my chest, but instead it’s a cackle that erupts when Wyatt hits the water at just the right angle to have him cupping his junk beneath the water while an attendant fetches his shorts, which are riding the waves without their owner.
I am cursing myself for not bringing my phone along, leaving me no way to record this historic moment that will no doubt be a highlight of this trip…if not our entire lives.
“Well, hello, Morticia!”
My lips twist into a smile at the sound of my best friend’s voice. I’ve only been back at work a few hours, but the intrusion is a welcome distraction from the stack of papers I’ve been mulling through since ambling in at six this morning. My mother, bless her heart, is not the most organized of people. There isn’t enough coffee in the world to deal with this level of chaos before breakfast, but I’m not one to leave shit lingering. I will be caught up by day’s end. I lift my gaze to find the stunning brunette lurking in the doorway with Lucy on her hip.
“Good morning,” I singsong, scrambling from around my desk to steal my godchild and give my best friend a kiss. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Surprisingly, the baby leaps into my arms willingly. And while she only gives me about thirty seconds before wrestling to be set free, I’m claiming this small victory.
“Knew you loved me, turd nugget,” I tease, setting her to her feet to do her worst on my office.
“What’s not to love?” Kate says, shutting the door so her toddler can’t escape before plopping herself in one of the chairs. It’s not even ten in the morning and the poor girl looks busted. With her boundless energy, Lucy could exhaust a squirrel.
“Not that I’m not ecstatic to see you both, but what are you doing here?”
She narrows her eyes. “You just took a vacation with your new beau…I want details, missy!”
I roll my eyes as I snatch the Sharpie her daughter just pilfered from the top drawer of my desk. “Prissy was with us. Believe my very despondent vag when I say there wasn’t any of that going on.”
Before I’ve found a high enough place to stash the potential disastrous marker, she’s gotten ahold of a container of paperclips. Evidently, Kate believes herself to be on vacation because she doesn’t even move to correct the situation. “No, Lulu. You can’t have that either.”
“Well, I know that.” My friend crosses her legs, making it clear she’s here for the long haul.
Lucy’s loud wail drowns out whatever drivel comes out of her mouth next.
“Here,” I say, shoving the sample dragonfly cremation orb into the raging tot’s hand. “Play with that.”
“Did you just give my child a dead person to play with?”
“I did.” My brow juts for the ceiling, daring her to question my godmothering skills.
She raises her hands in a defensive motion. “Just checking.”
“The trip was fine,” I say, finally collapsing back into my chair. “The park was really nice. Prissy had the time of her life. And Wyatt…” I feel the dreamy look that overtakes my face. “Well, he was amazing.”
“Of course, he was.” She perks up, sitting higher in her chair. “Things are getting pretty serious with you two…” she says.
“Yeah…I guess.” I grab a pen and begin tapping it on the table. The subject has me all sorts of flustered. “You don’t think it’s too fast though?”
“What I think,” she says, leaning forward to rest her elbows on my desk, “is that it only matters what you and Wyatt and your little girl think.”
I feel bile rising in my throat and try swallowing it down. “It’s just…people talk.”
“Bitch,” she squeaks, slapping a hand over her mouth when she remembers her kid is in the room. “Sorry, Lulu.” She shakes her head at herself. “Bitch,” she mouths, “this town has been talking about you since you turned up pregnant damn near eight years ago. Face it…they ain’t gonna stop till you’re dead. And maybe not even then.”
“Oh, God,” I say, reaching for the trash can at the end of my desk, mostly dry heaving.
“Eww, dat natty,” Lucy says, stepping back.
“Sorry,” I say knotting the bag and getting up to set it outside of my office door until I can take it out. “I’ve been car sick.”
Kate narrows her eyes. “You got home yesterday.”
I shrug. “I’ve been sick since we left Thursday afternoon.”
“Have you now?”
“Why do you look so smug?” I swish my mouth with the little bottle of Listerine that now lives in my purse before spitting it into a disposable cup.
“No reason.” She sucks her tongue to her teeth nodding to herself. “When was your last period?” She picks at her nails, calm as can be, like she’s just asked about the weather.
I feel an icy chill. “A woman can be sick without it automatically meaning she’s pregnant.”
“Mm-hmm.” She nods. “When was it?”
“I don’t know.” I grab my calendar out of my top drawer to check—that can’t be…
“Well?” she asks, getting up to look over my shoulder.
“December.” I’m trembling so hard I can’t keep the little planner in my hands. “Kate,” I hiss, my eyes welling with tears. “We were careful. Every time. It can be stress, right?” I nod, trying to calm myself. “It has to be stress.”
Kate’s eyes widen like saucers. “Holy fuck!” she says, not even caring that her child is now toddling around repeating the word. “Remember when your pussy gobbled up that condom?”
I stretch my collar, suddenly finding it hard to breath. “His come was still in it. I checked.”