Drew + Fable Forever (One Week Girlfriend #3.5)(18)
Author: Monica Murphy

So I did. I asked Owen to stay with me for a while even though he has his own place, and we’ve been hanging out. It’s been nice. It feels good, being here.

But I’m also running away from my problems, avoiding them. Avoiding my husband. I need to tell him what’s going on …

Later.

Sniffing loudly, I shake my head, parting my lips to dump the entire story on Jen when the waitress approaches, asking if we want coffee. I asked my closest friend to meet me at a breakfast place none of us ever frequent, clear on the other side of town. I want no one to hear anything we have to say. This secret I’m about to reveal is huge.

And Drew is going to probably kill me when he finds out.

“I’d like some, thanks,” Jen tells the waitress before she chances a glance at me. “Do you?”

Ugh. Just the thought of coffee makes my stomach recoil. And I lived on the stuff up until a few weeks ago. “No, thank you. Maybe some juice, though. I don’t know, orange juice?”

The waitress looks at me, her pen poised on her order pad. “You want it, then? Orange juice?”

Do I? I feel like I can’t make a decision to save my life at the moment. “Yes,” I say firmly with a nod. “Orange juice. And a glass of water, too.”

“Anything else? Something to eat? We have a pumpkin spice French toast special,” she suggests. “It’s delicious.”

My stomach revolts. God, that sounds disgusting. “No thanks,” I say between my teeth, handing her the menus she left at the table when I first got there, just about five minutes before Jen arrived. “I’m good.”

“Me, too,” Jen says. “I already ate.”

The waitress leaves us alone and Jen glances around, then leans across the table, her voice low. “What’s wrong with you? Tell me. I’m in a panic here. When I got your voice mail, you sounded so freaked out you scared me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s not that big of a deal. Well, it sort of is.” Swallowing hard, I try to come up with the best way to say this. But it’s only Jen. She’s not going to judge. She might think I’m an idiot but she definitely won’t judge. May as well state it plainly. “I’m pregnant.”

A pause as the words sink in and I watch her reaction. It’s rather fascinating, really. Her eyes light up, her lips part, and color blooms in her cheeks. Her excitement is a palpable thing as she looks ready to squeal, then slaps her hand over her mouth at the last moment so all I see are wide, shock-filled brown eyes. “Really?” she asks, her voice muffled against her fingers.

I slowly nod. “Really.”

The waitress arrives at that precise moment, flipping over the coffee cup that sits upside down on the saucer in front of Jen before pouring the steaming brown liquid into the white mug. The bitter scent reaches my nostrils, making me wrinkle my nose, and I rest a hand over my stomach, hoping like crazy I don’t puke right here in the middle of this tiny coffee shop.

This is how I knew I was pregnant in the first place. Every little scent, every smell, especially either perfume or food, and I want to hurl. It’s a horrible feeling. My stomach is constantly nauseous and I’m so tired all the time. All I want to do is nap.

“How?” Jen breathes out the question as soon as the waitress leaves. She tears into three creamers and dumps them all into the coffee, then tears open a bunch of sugars and dumps those in, too. I watch her with a grimace on my face I can feel. Ugh, that’s gross.

Then her question sinks in and I want to laugh. “How do you think?” I wish the waitress would bring my orange juice, my water, or both. I’m dying of thirst.

“Well, I know how.” Jen rolls her eyes. “But I thought you were on the pill.”

“I am. That’s the thing. I don’t know what happened.” That’s the part that scares me the most. He’s going to think I somehow tricked him into this. I talk about getting pregnant, we fight, we make up, we have amazing, hot, toe-curling sex for the rest of the night, and then five weeks later, I figure out I’m pregnant. It had to be that night.

I’m afraid he’s going to believe I set this up. I don’t want him mad at me.

The waitress reappears yet again with my drinks and she sets them on the table, smiling down at me. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“I’m fine,” I say and Jen says the same, so the waitress leaves.

“How far along are you?” Jen asks the second we’re alone again.

“Five or six weeks. I took a pregnancy test last week.”

“And you haven’t told Drew yet? You’ve been holding this in for an entire week?” Jen shakes her head and sips from her cup. “I would’ve burst by now.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve known for at least two weeks; I was just too damn scared to take the test and have it confirmed.” Sighing, I glance at the glass of orange juice and realize I don’t want it after all. Water is safer. “Wouldn’t Colin freak out if you got pregnant right now?”

“Well, yeah.” Jen shrugs. “But we aren’t married yet. We’re in no hurry. We’re definitely in no hurry to have kids yet, either.”

Their relationship is kind of weird. As in, they’re completely and totally committed to each other but neither of them feels the need to make it legal. It works for her, it works for him, and they’re the only ones who really matter in this relationship, so who am I to judge?

“You two have been together for years and you’re married, so I’d think Drew would be thrilled you’re having a baby,” Jen continues, sending me a pointed look. “Unless you’re the one who’s really unhappy? Because I know where we could go and get things taken care of.”

“Oh my God, no,” I breathe, the idea of doing what she’s suggesting flashing a big red no in my brain. “I’m not against that sort of thing but I want this baby, Jen. I want it more than anything.”

“So what’s the problem?”

She makes it sound so simple. I launch into the story of what happened in Boston. Hanging out with Amanda Thomas and her baby, telling Drew I wanted one, fighting over it, coming to the compromise that we’ll wait.

And now I’m pregnant.

“He’s going to shit,” I say after I explain everything.

“He’s also going to think you did this on purpose,” Jen adds.