risk getting everyone sick.”
“You’re right,” I mumble, my mind swimming with uncertainty as she wraps her arm around my shoulder and guides me to the bathroom door.
“I’ll make regrets for you to everyone, and when I get them cleared out, I’ll come over,” she says.
“No, don’t do that. I’m just going to head home and rest. You don’t need to come over just to watch me sleep.” Lie. I’m not headed home, at least not yet. I’ll be making a trip to the drug store first to buy a pregnancy test.
Then what?
What if it’s actually positive?
Harrison flashes through my mind.
Oh, God, I’m going to have to tell him, and say what? Hey, Harrison, remember me, your ex-wife? The one you slept with mere minutes after our divorce was final? Well, good news, I’m pregnant.
My stomach recoils, but I don’t think it’s pregnancy-related sickness. It’s stress from having to tell my ex-husband that I’m pregnant with his baby. How did this happen? Well, I know how this happened, but how did this become my life? I’m like a walking episode of The Young and the Restless. What are my preschool parents going to think of me?
Gabby guides me down the hallway and to the table where we’ve stashed my purse. As if on autopilot, I smile politely while retrieving my belongings and make my way to the exit.
“Honey, are you all right?” Mom asks, coming up behind us with a look of worry on her face.
“Yeah, just a touch of the flu,” I answer, the lie rolling too easily off my tongue.
“Oh, no. Well, feel better. If you’re not well tomorrow, text me, and I’ll bring you some soup,” she replies, pulling me into her arms and giving me a warm hug.
“I will. Please give my regards to everyone. I really appreciate you all throwing me this party,” I add.
“It was nothing,” Mom says with the flick of her hand before setting it on my forehead. “It’s not every day your oldest turns thirty.”
“No, I guess not.”
“Do you want Dad to drive you home?” she offers, glancing over at Gabby.
“No, that’s okay. I can drive. My stomach isn’t too bad now, so I think I can make it home.”
She continues to look on with that motherly watchful eye, and I almost crack under the pressure. She knows I’m lying, but, if I am pregnant, I don’t want to tell them first. Harrison deserves to know before my family, which is why I continue the flu charade for just a little longer. “Well, if you’re sure… I’ll stop by tomorrow and check on you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I reply, giving her another hug, before being ushered out of the bar and escorted to my car.
“I’ll text you in the morning,” Gabby says, full of concern.
“I’ll be fine, but thank you,” I reply quickly before climbing into my car. As I crank over the engine, I throw her a wave, plaster on a fake smile, and back out of my parking spot.
My mind is a mess of nerves and excitement as I drive toward the nearest drug store. Could I really be pregnant? The symptoms match up. Nausea, tired, and tender boobs. Plus, I missed my period this month, but I just chalked that up to the stress. It’s not like my monthly cycle has been normal since the separation. In fact, since I stopped taking my birth control several months back, my period has been all over the place. It’s not like I had a reason to stay on the pill, anyway.
I pull up to a stoplight, my hands trembling with nerves. I release the steering wheel and try to shake them out a little, my fingers feeling a bit cold. The light changes to green, and I slowly start to pull into the intersection. I see the flash of light only moments before the horn sounds. There’s nothing I can do, not even brace for impact. My vehicle jars hard as the other car makes impact, the seat belt pulling against my body and holding me in place. The airbag deploys with a loud bang as everything around me starts to fade away. It’s like I’m floating, all the sounds of crunching metal, shattering glass, and horns honking vanishing. There’s no sound. Even as I glance over and see a face full of fear in my driver’s side window. His mouth is moving, but there’s no sound.
My eyelids become heavy and the desire to sleep takes over.
The baby.
My hands drop to my still-flat