Page 86 of A Really Bad Idea

I know it shouldn’t disappoint me since Christian and I only had sex twice, but there was a part of me that was hoping it would happen on the first try.

It’s funny; there were years of my life when I prayed to the gods that I wasn’t pregnant. Now, I’m disappointed to see I’m not.

I clean up and use the supplies Beth keeps under the sink. I try to find comfort in the scented hand wash I enjoy so much and step out of the bathroom, only to return and remove the towel I put over Brian’s photograph.

Beth is in the kitchen, stirring the sauce. “Are the boys kicking your ass in Just Dance?” she asks as I enter the room.

“You should be proud of their twerking skills.”

“Don’t even joke.” She puts the wooden spoon on the counter and wipes her hands with a rag. She faces me and gives me a once-over. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.” I fold my arms and lean my hip against the counter. “I got my period.”

Beth’s mouth presses into an understanding line as she looks at me with a nod. “That’s okay. It hardly ever happens on the first try.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” My shoulder rises to my ear, like it’s no big deal.

The basement door bursts open with Aiden and Dylan barreling through the hallway, chasing each other through the kitchen, nearly knocking over one of the barstools.

Beth shouts out to them, “No roughhousing. And wash up for dinner!”

They make their way out of the room, toward the living room.

When she gives her attention back to me, it’s with a grimace. “See what you have to look forward to? Anyway, don’t worry about it. This is good. Now, you have an exact date to map your cycle with.”

“We said we wouldn’t plan it.”

She leans an arm on the counter and lowers her forehead. “You kinda need to if you want to have a baby.”

“So far, it’s been fun, letting things happen organically. I’d hate to ruin it.”

Her bottom jaw moves to the side as her tongue skim her back teeth. She has a mischievous gleam to her eye. “You’re having fun?”

I look up to the ceiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

She throws the rag at me, and I catch it before it hits my face.

“Spill the beans. I want to know about all this fun you’re having.”

I toss it back at her. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Fine. Don’t tell. Just give me a rating. Scale of one to ten. Five being, It was good, but I didn’t orgasm. And ten being, Holy God, I might have triplets from the amount of times the man has made me come.”

I look down with a grin and hold up my hands, showcasing all ten fingers. If I had more hands, I’d put those up, too.

Beth pretends to fan herself with the rag. “This baby is going to be so worth it.”

“Who’s having a baby?” Mom asks as she walks into the kitchen. She’s wearing a gold velour jogging suit, which went out of style about twenty years ago, yet she still pulls it off.

I widen my eyes at Beth for being so damn loud. “Angela Yang, the receptionist, is trying to have a baby. She’s mapping her cycle.” I have been getting superb at lying lately. I hate that.

Mom doesn’t miss a beat in her willingness to overshare. “Your father and I had to try for months for each of you. Sex every other day for a year to conceive Brian. We started right away for you, and that took two years.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of intercourse.” Beth’s eyes widen as she tries to comprehend the amount of sex my parents must have had to get pregnant.

“You need to fornicate if you want to procreate,” Mom sings. “And it helps to know when you ovulate. Most people are on the fourteenth day, so, Beth, if you want to have a third baby, you should try in about twelve days.”

She looks horrified, the rag dropping to the floor with a slap. “Why do you know my ovulation schedule?”