I stopped by Teresa’s office on my way to my desk. “Hey.”
She smiled up at me. “Feeling okay?”
“Better than I was, which isn’t saying much.”
My boss gave me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” I glanced over my shoulder, found Bruce watching me, and turned back to Teresa. “The Hulk wanted to know why I was late.”
Teresa rolled her eyes. “Looks like I’m going to have to have yet another conversation with him about how he isn’t a manager and has no right to ask the other employees what they’re doing or to assign them work. Honestly, it’s getting ridiculous.”
“We should have an office pool for next month. Everyone puts in a buck and picks which day you’ll have to do the same thing in July.”
“I get the first of the month,” Teresa said.
I snorted out a laugh, but quickly sobered as I thought about how much work I had to do and that I was now behind thanks to my bout of morning sickness. “I should get to work for real, though. I have a lot to do, and who knows how often this is going to be an issue.”
My boss’ mouth turned down. “You could work from home. I mean, if you need to.”
“Yeah.” I gave a noncommittal shrug. “Honestly, I don’t want to be alone that much. When I am, all I can think about is this huge thing hanging over me, and it sucks.”
“I get that.” Teresa’s head bobbed. “Well, whatever works for you. Just let me know.”
“Thanks,” I said and even managed a grateful smile.
She returned the gesture then waved to the door. “Go on.Work.”
“I will,” I said, laughing at her mockingly authoritative tone.
Bruce watched me walk to my desk, causing me to roll my eyes dramatically. I almost stuck out my tongue. Seriously, if he was going to be a chauvinistic pig who thought I needed policing just because I was a woman, I was going to be childish.
My days progressed like that over the next couple weeks. Usually, I woke feeling horrible. I often I spent the first hour after getting out of bed hugging the toilet, and I was late to work more often than I liked. Teresa talked to Bruce, so he didn’t ask about my tardiness again after that first day, but he did watch me with a suspicious expression. Even on days when I wasn’t late, he seemed to be keeping tabs on me, making me wonder if he knew what was going on. If so, what did the look in his eyes mean? Was he one of the people who supported The Fertility Act, or did he think it was a violation? I couldn’t imagine he would be the latter. He seemed like too much of a man’s man for that, but his expression and the way he watched me was so confusing. So ambiguous.
The support group was usually on the first Wednesday of every month, but since the next one happened to fall on the Fourth of July, I had a slight reprieve from having to see Destiny and the other women in the program and letting them know my insemination had been successful. Although not much of one since the group had been moved to the following week, but enough that I was grateful anyway.
I spent the holiday at Trevor’s house, nursing a mocktail while friends and acquaintances ate, swam, and got plastered. Other than Trevor’s main squeeze, I was the only sober person there, but that was only because Owen was a health nut. Seriously. He’d brought his own vegan burger, which had made me rush to the toilet after one brief glance at it on the grill. I blamed the gray, unappealing pallor and not the life growing inside me for that one.
By the time the fireworks started, I was ready to head home. As if being one of two sober people at a party wasn’t bad enough, every smell made me want to vomit, and I was over it. Owen,however, had other plans.
He plopped down on the couch next to me as, outside, Trevor’s guests hooted and hollered as red and blue lights crackled, lighting up the black sky. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” I said, then took a sip of water.
He eyed me for a second longer than was comfortable, and I braced myself for a comment about the program or mycondition. I hadn’t told anyone except Trevor and Teresa – and Vera the day I got the positive results – but knew Owen was aware I was pregnant. No way Trevor wouldn’t have told him.
“You don’t look like you’re having much fun,” Owen finally said.
Even though I was relieved he hadn’t brought up my pregnancy, I didn’t relax because I wasn’t sure if I was out of the woods yet. I did think I could steer him away from the topic if I tried, though.
“I never realized how tedious being around drunk people could be when you can’t partake.” I waved to the wide-open French doors, which lead to the patio area and pool as well as the very inebriated guests. “Do you think we all look that stupid when we’re drunk, or is it just them?”
Owen smiled. “Just them for sure. I mean, I know I am nothing if not classy when I’m drinking, and while I haven’t seen you drunk,” he lifted his brows to let me know he wasn’t going to mention why that was, “I imagine you are very put together and articulate.”
“The most articulate,” I said, laughing and clinking my water glass against his.
I took a big gulp then set the glass on the table before saying, “Why aren’t you drinking, by the way?”
“Trevor didn’t mention that I’m training for a marathon?”
