The word resonated in my head. Mother. Omigod! I’m gonna be one. I’m gonna be a mother. Fuck!
The panic must have shown, as Beverly leaned down and folded me in her embrace again. “It’s gonna be fine, Mellie. You have a lotta love in this family. We’re all with you one hundred percent. Now go brush your teeth, ’cause your breath is worse than Muttface’s. Take a few minutes and come outside. Better now?”
I laughed and tried not to direct it at her face. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m not sure if I can stay, though. I think I may just go home.”
“You sure you’re steady enough to drive? Maybe you should sleep here tonight. I can pull out the futon in the game room for Owen, or he can use his camper. I don’t think he’ll mind giving up the guest room for you.”
“Thanks for the offer, Bevvie, but I want to be in my own space in my own bed. Besides, the kids will ask questions, and I’m not ready to give them answers right now.”
She nodded and stood up. “Come outside when you’re ready. Take your time and holler for me if you need help.”
“Thanks for everything, Bevvie.”
She put on a soft face and spoke with genuine conviction. “I’m happy for you, Mellie. Now go get those teeth brushed.”
She left, and I shuffled into the bathroom to find my toothbrush sitting in the flowery ceramic holder. I spent enough time in this house that it made sense for me to keep one here. The strong mint flavor helped clear my head. I spat in the sink, rinsed, and spat again. My reflection looked back at me. My eyes had the beginnings of dark fatigue circles. I leaned in closer and squinted. Make that fatigue circles helped along by smeared mascara. Home sounded great. Bed sounded better.
“Fuck me,” I told my glass image. “I have to tell my parents. That’s gonna be a fucking circus.”
I could cuss to my heart’s content since the kids were outside, but I probably should start tempering that now. I didn’t want my baby’s first words to be “dammit” or “fuck off.”
Is this how mothers think? Shit, I have a lot of work to do.
I put a dab of lotion on my finger from Bev’s pump dispenser and wiped away the traces of mascara smudges. This method worked better than water and would help keep wrinkles at bay. At thirty-six, I wasn’t old, but I had every intention of fighting the aging process with every weapon in my arsenal. As long as people regularly told me I didn’t look my age, I thought I was winning. I left the bathroom and made my way downstairs.
Owen was there at the bottom, watching me as I carefully descended with my hand on the rail. His eagle eyes and grim face told me of his concern. I thought it sweet, but I was still embarrassed. The times a man had held back my hair while I puked numbered exactly one, and I didn’t care to keep a scorecard. I smiled and bounced down the steps like I didn’t just faint in his arms. I’d gotten good at faking over the years.
“Thanks for catching me. Not one of my more notable moments, eh? I’m okay now, but I think I’m gonna just go home.”
“I’ll drive.”
Huh, this is new. “No, thanks, O-man. I can manage.”
He shook his head.
“What? I’m not going home? I beg to differ.”
“I’ll drive.” The words were soft but sounded like a command.
Tendrils of anger drifted up my spine. “You’ll drive? Yeah, you’ll drive me up the wall. I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”
“Not alone.”
Jeez, what is with this guy? “I don’t need a fucking nanny, Owen.”
“What’s going on?” Connor appeared, along with Beverly. I breathed a sigh of relief that the kids were still outside. I really needed to start watching my language.
“Your brother thinks he’s gonna drive me home.”
“Not a bad idea. You still look a bit shaky,” Bev chimed in while handing me a plastic grocery bag. “Here’s a can of soup, a sleeve of crackers, and some bananas. Put a few crackers on your nightstand and grab them in the morning before you get out of bed. That will help with mor—ah… if your stomach’s still bad tomorrow.”
So she hadn’t told Connor yet. That was a relief. I love my BFF for not telling on me, although I didn’t need to keep this a secret. Pregnancy becomes rather hard