Sun God Seeks…Surrogate? (Accidentally Yours #3)(66)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Crappity-crap! “Am I really pregnant? Are you sure? Kinich said I needed to wear that necklace to be able to carry a baby.”

She nodded. “The ring your mother gave you, you’re still wearing it.”

I looked at the silver ring with tiny black stones. “The stones are onyx.”

“No. Jade.”

Wait! Oh my god! How does she know about the ring? It’s gift from my mother. I stood up. Maybe I couldn’t turn into a fireball, but I could still throw one. “You sold it to her! Didn’t you?”

She smiled and wiggled her digits in the air. “Guilty as charged.”

“Then you did something to it so I couldn’t take it off! Didn’t you? I’m going to kill you! How can you mess with people’s lives like this?”

“You mustn’t take it so personally, Penelope. I merely facilitated that which is meant to be. It’s like being the host of The Bachelorette. I merely create the set for the love to happen. And the scandals. And commercials every five minutes that drive everyone insane. But I don’t actually participate in the drama. Yunno what I mean? Besides, you may remove the ring at any time.”

“I can’t. I tried fifty times. Soap, lotion—”

“The ring is bespelled to only come off if you truly wish it. You clearly wanted to have this baby with Kinich, although you may not have admitted it to yourself yet.”

I plopped down on the couch, toying with the ring. Could it be? Could she be telling the truth? But there was no way. In fact, I’d had my…

I covered my mouth.

No. No I hadn’t had my monthly monster for…“I’m three weeks late.” Why hadn’t I realized it?

So much had happened, I guess it slipped my mind.

I suddenly recalled what Andrus had told me that morning outside of Cimil’s home: Cimil was a person who knew what you wanted even before you did. “So this baby was part of your master plan? The one that’s now gone sideways?”

She gripped my hand. “That’s why I don’t understand, Penelope. I did everything right—except for the doomsday Love Boat incident.”

I never imagined the words “doomsday” and “Love Boat” would be used in the same sentence.

“But aside from that,” she mumbled. “I was steering the cruise ship in the right direction—toward our port of call: love. And toward the gods’ eternal happiness. You must believe me! You must! I don’t know where it all went wrong,” she blubbered uncontrollably.

I almost liked the old Cimil better. At least she was sort of entertaining, in a really twisted and inappropriate way. But Drama-Cimil was kind of sad. Hysterical was not a look she wore well.

She continued, “You were supposed to be the surrogate, the stand-in for Kinich’s power. Kinich got his wish of mortality so he’d finally stop his incessant yapping—‘I want to be mortal, I want to be mortal. Waaaah!’” she whined mockingly. “He needed to learn the grass isn’t greener. And then, when he saw the baby, he would finally believe that Payals were meant to be, paving the way for the rest of us to live happy existences. And once we are all happy…”

She zoned out completely.

I shook her by the shoulders. “What? We what?”

Eyes glossed over, she replied, “I can’t remember. I’m useless without my dead. Especially, Estevan and Gunther. And my unicorn.” She held her hand over her heart and sighed. “I can’t even remember the words to my favorite song, “Pop Goes the Weasel.’” She sprung from the couch and began clapping. “Oh! Oh! But I do remember this one from the Stones!”

Cimil began howling the words to “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.”

“Oh my god. Please stop,” I said pressing my hands over my ears.

She halted her oratory assault. “But it’s so true!” she said. “Sometimes you only get what you need. It’s sort of ironic, isn’t it?”

Not as ironic as finding out I was pregnant. “Why me?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? I just follow the signs, I don’t make them. Well, I used to follow the signs. Now they’re gone. No more world. Poof!” She sighed. “No more garage sales. No more used picnic baskets, golf clubs, and exercise equipment. Bad times. Bad times.”

“Wow. Yeah. Useless crap. Such a loss for humanity. Especially when compared to…losing humanity.”

Nut bag.

Then a new panic attack hit me. “Wait. Will the baby be all right? I mean, I have Kinich’s powers—will it be safe? And am I even human anymore?”

Her eyes filled with tears. Tears! This was too much.

“You can’t ever go home if you’ve never lived there,” she began to blubber again and sank into the couch.

“No more gibberish. Answer me!”

Her head dropped. “The last thing the Book showed me was a date. The final day. We have eight months.”

There were no words for the despair I felt. There was no point of reference for the darkness that threatened to consume me. This couldn’t be happening.

“Penelope, you are needed. Acan and Camaxtli are strangling each other.”

I looked up at Zac hovering in the doorway. If only I could remember who the hell Acan and Camaxtli were. These Mayan names were a mess. If we didn’t have bigger fish to fry, I’d call a vote to rename everyone with simple, easy names: Bob, Carol…Jenny. We’d keep Belch. Zac, too. Those were good names.

Then I remembered…Dammit! I need to find Kinich. I needed to tell him about the baby before he left.

Wait. Think. Do you want him to stay with you because you’re pregnant? Don’t forget, the world is going to end; you don’t have a minute to lose.

I froze in my tracks with that thought. I didn’t want to spend my last days on earth with a man—uuuh—ex-god who didn’t want me. Yes, I loved him, but sulking and crying and withering away wouldn’t save the world. It wouldn’t save me.

It won’t save…my baby.

Oh hell. Am I really pregnant?

Then, and I don’t know how it happened, but it did. I chose. I chose not to crumble. I chose not to let the hurt of rejection or the anger of the crappy hand I’d been dealt pull me under and sink me. I chose to fight. I chose to win or go down trying.

So there it was. I ate the lemons, swallowed them whole, and spit out the seeds.

Well, I’ll be damned. I was strong enough.