We’re best friends, lovers, and partners.
To the point we often read each other’s minds.
I set her down on the toilet and then turn to brush my teeth and wash my face. I might as well take off some of yesterday’s grime. I was so stressed when I got home, I didn’t shower or anything before bed.
Lexi does her business and then follows suit.
“You done with what you’re doing?”
She smiles. “Yes.”
I scoop her up again and carry her back to bed.
“You going to carry me for the next seven months?” she asks lightly.
“Whenever you let me.”
We settle in bed with me on my back and her nestled against my chest, just under my left shoulder.
“Are you mad at me?” she asks after a moment.
“Maybe a little?”
“I’m sorry. Please don’t yell at me. Everything makes me cry the last few days. Well, cry or pee.”
“I’m not going to yell.” I stroke my hand along her side. “But I need to know what you were thinking, babe.”
“I wasn’t,” she says simply. “I know it was stupid, reckless, probably dangerous—but it was instinctive. The show was going really well. The crowd was excited, singing along to the new songs. A group of guys down front started calling to me to do it, and my body had a mind of its own. I jumped before I knew what was happening. And nothing bad has ever happened before.”
“But you were never pregnant before.”
“I know.”
“Lexi, you can’t tell me it wasn’t in the back of your mind. You just said everything has been making you cry or pee. Peeing is very physical—so you must have been aware, somewhere in your subconscious, that you are pregnant.”
She doesn’t respond.
“Lexi?”
“What do you want me to say? Yes, of course, I know I’m pregnant. It’s impacting every freakin’ thing in my life. My moods, my body, my career, even our relationship! I’m very aware of this damn pregnancy!”
There’s a moment of stunned silence.
“This damn pregnancy?” I shift slightly, looking at her in confusion.
“I didn’t mean?—”
“I think you did,” I say, interrupting and slowly sitting up. “Do you not want this baby, Lexi?”
“Of course I do.” She gnaws the inside of her cheek, which is a nervous tic she has. It’s also a tell when she’s lying. “It’s just?—”
“There shouldn’t be just anything. The timing is off? It’s inconvenient? It’s stressful? Just what, Lexi?”
“Well, yes. All of that.” She sits up and faces me, pulling the sheet around her as if protecting herself. “It is inconvenient. Do you know how many records we’ve sold in the last month?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Approximately nine hundred thousand. You’re about to go platinum.”
“Sasha thinks we hit it last week. But the numbers aren’t in yet.”
