Maggie gapes at me.
Yeah, meet my filter-free pregnancy avatar, Maggie dear.
My sister shakes her head, and I see what I almost always do: disappointment and resignation.
Yeah, well, I don’t give two shits anymore.
Grandma Lucille would be proud and would even forgive me for the profanity.
“Daddy and I…well, we both think that you and Dominic should get married.”
“I thought he was a disgusting NSA agent I brought home.”
“He’s the brother-in-law of the next Governor of California,” she retorts.
My orange juice appears. I drink it down in one go. I’m thirsty. I’m always either hungry or thirsty or queasy. And I always need to pee. If this second person is so small, how are they causing such havoc in my body?
“Excuse me.”
I haul myself out of my chair. It’s not that my belly is enormous; it’s that my backache is making me have a disproportionate waddle.
“A chiropractor is coming at five today, so either you open the door for me, or I’ll break it down,”Nick told me thismorning when he showed up with his flower delivery, while I was unsuccessfully trying to rub my back.
I have learned that I really didn’t know Nick, slash Dominic, slash Dom. The man I knew had been charming and affectionate; this man was charming, affectionate, and bossy as all get out.
I come back from the restroom and am happy to see that the server has brought Maggie’s salad and my gougères. I wasn’t always a big fan of cheese puffs, but these days, give me cheese, fry it, bake it, sauté it, and I’m going to eat it.
Maggie curls her nose as I sit down. “Why are you walking like you’re a hundred months pregnant?”
“Because to accommodate a baby, my entire pelvic floor had to expand. The bones actually have to move around…and that can cause some issues with one’s back.”
I don’t know why I’m being such a bitch to her, but honestly, she and I have had an amiable relationship only because I’ve kept it that way. Maggie has always looked down on me—and now, it seems, I’m done with that.
She watches as I eat, fascinated. I devour my food—first, the cheese puffs, and then the pâté. They are delicious.
By the time Maggie’s finished with her salad niçoise, I’m waiting for my steak.
“Look, Daddy is reaching out to Dominic and?—”
“Tell Daddy to mind his own business,” I cut her off and then shrug as I reconsider. “Actually, he can reach out to whomever he wants. I’m not marrying that lying sack of shit.”
“Enya,” Maggie looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “I’ve never seen you talk like this.”
“Like what? Like I’m speaking my mind?” I shake my head, disgusted with myself for being such a damned doormat for everyone. Maybe it’s the hormones, or maybe, more probably,it’s that I’m going to have a baby and my protective instincts are on high alert.
She sends me a glance that could light a fuse. I merrily ignore it because my steak has arrived. I cut into it and sigh with pleasure.
Is there anything as good as a well-cooked steak? And, Maggie is footing the lunch bill, which makes it even better.
“Do you want Daddy to have another scandal?” Maggie asks as I chew on my first delectable bite of beef.
“Sure.”
“Enya,” she remonstrates.
I toss my shoulders. “I don’t give a flying fuck.”
That elicits another gasp. I know, I know, I usually don’t swear, I’m polite and amiable…but there’s nothing usual about my situation right now.
