Would she tell him? Yes. Yes, she would.
Soon.
Seriously, she understood that he deserved to know. Understood that he had his own decisions to make about his involvement—even if she bet that he’d choose to walk away, leaving her with the opportunity to make decisions herself.
She got it. This whole thing was a super-complicated parental opportunity that she’d decided to embrace.
So, she’d tell him. First, she’d practice by spilling the beans to her family. Then, once things were a little more settled with the pregnancy, she’d mention it to him. Maybe she’d take Irina’s path and send him a postcard in Bermuda. Decisions like that didn’t need to be made right now.
“You still haven’t answered how you are,” Irina pointed out.
Courtney squared her shoulders like the motherly badass she aspired to be. “I am fine.”
Mostly fine. She’d decided to be fine, and thus she made it so. Did she have a new aversion to pork, poultry products, and her formerly favorite cereals? She did. Suddenly, she also really craved kale and beets. That part was the worst because they were supposed to taste like dirt, not deliciousness. The best part was she’d be super healthy for this little munchkin.
“Besides, Linx’s girlfriend is a big deal.” Because he normally had lots of girlfriends, but this time it was just the one. That in itself made the situation special.
Courtney turned to the hallway that led to Linx’s kitchen. She loved this room in his house because it reminded her of her condo. He hadn’t decorated it, but whoever had updated it last used every shade of white—just like Courtney’s pad. The rest of his house in Denver was a monstrosity of marble and gold with cherubs painted on the ceiling. It looked like 1990s wealth had vomited all over the place. Linx thought so too and tried to start a remodel, but all that netted him was a huge hole in the wall. At least that added a little character to the place.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to LA? I got to thinking, if I were pregnant, I’d send my parents a postcard announcement and then I’d turn off my cell phone for a month,” Irina announced. She paused, then continued, “Though, at this stage, it wouldn’t be a gender reveal, we’d have a father reveal. That would be interesting, wouldn’t it? We could do it Maury Povich–style. At least you know who the dad is, that’s a huge win.”
“Hey, heads up, there’s no way I’m having a gender reveal. Don’t even think about planning one,” she said. Because Irina loved a good party, and any excuse for a party was Irina’s idea of a good time.
“Right, you don’t want one, but Bax might want one. I can throw it for him instead.”
Irina had never even met Bax. Never had a reason to. Even when she’d come to some of the concerts, she’d avoided Bax on the principle that Courtney hated him.
“Irina, no. No gender reveal.”
Irina sighed, but Courtney was pretty sure she didn’t mean it. “Go forth and tell your family. I’m on standby if you need me to come crack some skulls.”
By crack some skulls, Irina meant fly to Denver, crack open a case of wine, and keep pouring until none of Courtney’s family cared about anything other than Linx’s wall hole, his new girlfriend, and his cat, Gibson.
“Maybe I should go take one more test.” Courtney turned to head back toward the guest room that Linx kept for her.
She should probably buy stock in pregnancy test manufacturing because she took approximately two pregnancy tests every day to be sure she actually was pregnant. She’d become attached to this idea of a little grain of rice growing into a chickpea in her belly. She might know nothing about being a mom, but she was ready to crush motherhood like a boss.
The voices from Linx’s kitchen carried down the hallway toward Courtney. There was laughter. Some chatter. Mom’s and Dad’s voices mingling with Linx’s and girlfriend Becca’s.
How should she say this? Ease them in with assurances and charts? Or just pull the bandage off and let it rip?
“No more peeing on sticks. Let’s take the bandage route. Rip that sucker off.” Irina added some Velcro-like noises for effect. This was easier for her to suggest because Irina wasn’t the one having to do the ripping.
But she wasn’t wrong. Courtney said her goodbyes because first things first—this conversation about the baby didn’t have to be weird. Truly, it didn’t.
Had Courtney known that Linx had a girlfriend guest staying with him in his new Denver pad, she never would’ve dragged her parents here for the big revelation news.
Actually, scratch that, she totally would’ve brought them anyway. But she would’ve given Linx a touch more of a heads-up and probably told him the news first.
“Where’s Courtney?” Linx asked as she moseyed around the corner to the kitchen, where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee that smelled really amazing.
While the doctor had said that she could have a cup a day, the stuff now gave her horrible heartburn. Wheatgrass juice with cucumber, however, sounded heavenly, which totally sucked shrimp tails.
“Courtney’s right here,” she said, hoping no one had swiped her cherry-flavored seltzer because it was one of the few things that actually settled her stomach these days.
Linx glanced at her, paused, and raised his brows. Uh-huh, she probably looked like she got hit by a semitruck and then smeared over the concrete by a rock star. She’d tried her best with some concealer and a hairbrush, but decided it wasn’t worth it after about thirty seconds.
Now, she was questioning coming down to the kitchen, because the stench of bacon had her stomach roiling.
