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“Absolutely!”

“Really? You never let me have cereal on a school day.”

“Well…today’s a special day!”

Frowning, she looked at the calendar, the same as me, trying to figure out what was so special about today.

“It’s three weeks until Christmas!” I shouted, flinging my arms up in the air and dancing on my toes.

When I started squealing, she joined in, getting just as excited as I was pretending to be. I wasn’t sure how long I could pull this off, but thankfully, she flitted away, grabbing a bowl and cereal.

I slipped out and ran into the living room, smacking Edu across the face. “Edu! Wake up!” I hissed.

“Momma. No hit.”

I laughed lightly. “Right, I know, but Momma’s trying to wake up Daddy.”

“Momma, no hit!”

“You’re absolutely right. No hit.” I flipped on the television and stuck her in front of the screen, which she thankfully watched.

Rushing back over to Edu, I grabbed his arm and dragged him upright, trying to wake him up, but all he did was flop around.

“Edu!” I whisper-hissed. “Get your ass up!”

But all I got was a resounding snore.

“This is so ridiculous!” I snapped. “I am not going to do this with you for the whole Christmas season!”

When hauling him upright didn’t work, I went to the other end and grabbed his feet, tugging until he fell off the couch and smacked his head on the coffee table on the way down.

I probably should have felt bad about that, but this was all his fault. Luckily, he startled awake and rubbed his head.

“Did someone hit me?”

“No,” I snapped. “You’re drunk off your ass and passed out where your daughter and your sister could walk in at any minute!”

He shoved to his feet, stumbling into me. I caught him, and a whiff of his nasty breath hit me all at once. That was the moment I knew hiding this pregnancy from him would be impossible.

I made a mad dash to the bathroom and spilled the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Edu was there in a flash, rubbing my back.

“That’s my job this morning. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I muttered, flushing the toilet as I got to my feet.

He was so sweet, wetting a washcloth to press to my head. “We should get you to bed.”

“I don’t need to go to bed,” I groaned.

“But you’re sick. We don’t want you spreading it all around the house.”

Chuckling, I leaned against the sink, hanging my head. “That won’t happen.”

“Well, as much as you don’t want to, if you go around everyone, that’s exactly what you’ll do.”

I turned, my head still down as I worked up the courage to speak. “Edu, I won’t be passing this on because…because I can’t. It’s not that kind of sickness.”

When I finally raised my eyes, my husband looked utterly confused. I waited, hoping he would get it, and that his response would be something other than horror.