Well, no one besides Harrison,” she mutters, glancing around to make sure our conversation isn’t overheard.
“How far along are you?” I ask quietly, not wanting to spoil her secret.
“Not far. About six weeks. We haven’t even been to the doctor yet,” Gwen says.
“Holy shitballs,” I state, looking over at my beautiful niece sitting in the high chair. “I thought you wanted to wait.”
“I did,” she practically growls, “but apparently Harrison’s supersperm had other ideas.” Gwen sips at her water, trying to look annoyed, yet I can tell by the hint of excitement on her face, she’s anything but.
“Well, congratulations. Or should I say congrats to my brother-in-law’s supersperm.”
“That’s not necessary. Harrison’s ego is already inflated enough. He doesn’t need any more accolades to the fact he knocked up his wife while she was on birth control.”
I giggle and glance over at the baby in the carrier sitting beside me. Milo is wide awake, watching my every move. I smile instantly and unbuckle his straps. He fits so comfortably in my arms, and that familiar feeling of melancholy slips up my spine and stabs me in the heart. “So, let me get this straight,” I start, taking the bottle of nursery water from the diaper bag and pouring in the formula. “Last week, when you came over and chewed my ass for not telling you about Milo yet, you were pregnant.”
Gwen takes a bite of a cracker from the breadbasket. “I didn’t know.”
With Milo latched on to his bottle, I glance back across the table. “Are you nervous this time around?”
She shrugs. “A little. I’m trying not to worry.” Gwen had gestational diabetes while pregnant with my niece, which resulted in a lifestyle change for a few months. Her husband went a little overboard with the overprotectiveness, always making sure she was eating right, exercising, and feeling okay. I understood his concern, his fear, but my sister said it was a bit suffocating at times.
Milo finishes his bottle just as our food is delivered. The moment I smell the deep-fried grease, my stomach rolls and I break out into a sweat. I realize what’s about to happen in just enough time that I’m able to hand Milo to my shocked sister and run to the bathroom. The moment my knees hit the floor in front of the toilet, I empty my stomach contents, trying not to think about the fact I’m kneeling in a public bathroom with my head in the toilet.
When the stomach spasms subside, I slowly pick myself up off the floor and make my way to the sink. I’m chalky pale and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. My hands hold a slight shake as I wash them twice, blotting both hands and my face with a dry paper towel. I have no clue what came over me, but I just pray it isn’t a stomach bug. The last thing I want is to get Milo, or even Sophia or my sister, sick.
With unsteady legs, I make my way back to our booth, not hungry in the slightest. “Are you okay?” my sister asks, holding Milo in the crook of one arm, feeding Sophia some applesauce with her other hand, and still managing to steal green beans in between. “You don’t look so good.”
“I think I have the flu,” I tell her, falling into the booth and resting my head against the cool plastic seat.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re knocked up too.”
Her words stop my heart. I lift my head and meet her eyes, a knowing smirk on her face. “I’m not,” I reassure her. “I just pray I didn’t just give you and Sophia what I have.”
Gwen laughs. “Sorry to tell you, I already have what you have,” she teases, rubbing her stomach.
“I’m not pregnant.”
“No?”
“No. It’s just… this is all happening so fast. I’m supposed to start my period today.”
She glances down at the sleeping baby in her arms and says, “If you say so.” Then she starts to shovel more applesauce into my niece’s mouth, not bothering to bring back up the whole pregnancy bombshell again.
A few minutes later, my stomach settles and actually growls. I know my sister heard, but she doesn’t call me on it. I’m quiet as I pick at the bun on my sandwich, thankful that the bread seems to stay down. When the server returns and offers me a box, I decline, knowing I’m not planning to eat the chicken later either.
Gwen pays the bill while