“Bleh. What fun would that be?” I say eyeballing the café doors that lead to the kitchen. “Is Bri busy? I didn’t see him last night.”
“I heard you made it an early night and weren’t feeling well. He’s in the office. Go on back,” Greg says without turning back around.
I scoot around the end of the counter and through the doorway. The kitchen is still warm from the morning’s baking session and the smell of peanut butter and cinnamon hits my nose as I reach the office doorway.
“Hey there handsome.” I close the door behind me and sit down in the armchair behind his desk. “It’s Friday night. Want to do anything amazing? Like order a pizza and wings and build with Britt’s Lego set?”
He turns his office chair to face me, concern lacing his features.
“Are you sure you feel up to it? Your mom told me when she came to get Britt yesterday that you went home from work after getting sick at the office,” he says, reaching out to touch my cheek. “I didn’t want to call after I was done here in case you were sleeping.”
His worry makes me wish I’d called him last night just to let him know I was okay. “I got busy into a John Hughes movie marathon with Steph and a cup of tea. I think it was the stuff I ate for lunch. Greasy calzone. It was delicious going down. But really, it’s nothing. My stomach just couldn’t handle it and I’ve been exhausted from late nights and early mornings.”
“If you’re sure. You want pizza after getting sick from something that’s basically pizza in pocket form?” he says, squinting at me with confusion on his face.
“Yeah, that sounds kind of crazy. Burritos?”
Brian starts laughing and rolls his chair over to me so we’re eye-to-eye. “I love you. Burritos it is. You pick Britt up after work and I’ll grab food when I leave here around six. Greg and Tom are closing up tonight.”
I stand up and stumble back, Brian’s hand shooting out to grab my wrist and steady me as he stands up. The dizzy feeling subsides and I smile at him.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re pale. You don’t feel warm though,” he says, pressing his wrist to my forehead first, then my neck. “Dizzy?”
“A little when I stood up. I haven’t eaten much since lunch yesterday, though.”
“Grab a bottle of water from the cooler and have Greg put an extra muffin in your order,” Brian says pulling me into a gentle hug. I breathe in his familiar scent only for it to knock me back, my stomach turning at the smell of his beloved Old Spice. Not even his beloved. Mine. I love that smell. He pulls away and looks at me. “You’re going to be sick aren’t you?”
“Nope,” I say emphatically shaking my head from side to side as he reaches under the desk for his wastebasket. I grab it and fall back into the chair as he walks out of the office.
I take a deep breath in through my nose and close my eyes waiting for the nausea to pass. Brian and Greg walk back into the office, a bottle of water in Bri’s hand and a damp cloth in Greg’s.
“You two don’t have time to nurse me back to health. I feel fine —” Brian cuts me off as I carefully stand up.
“You’re not fine, Stella. You’re pale, you’re dizzy, you were sick yesterday and you —” he glances down into the trash bin “— almost got sick again a few minutes ago. You need to go home and sleep.”
I fight him on it.
“My stomach is fine now. I’m not dizzy anymore. I’m probably dehydrated and starving. Give me my damn muffin, a bottle of water, and my coffees. I need to go to work,” I say, loudly, using my own boss tone of voice. Remorse hits me when I see his face fall and watch Greg’s eyes widen in surprise. “Please. I promise if I feel worse when I get to work I will go home. I’ll call you and let you know if I leave the office or if I’m curled up in the ladies room hugging the toilet, but I need to at least go to the office.”
Greg leans over to Brian and, in what couldn’t even be considered anything in the realm of a whisper, says, “She really is a stubborn one. I wouldn’t mess with her if I were you.” He steps backward out of the office, retreating to the safety of the front counter.
Brian takes a step toward me, reaching out to hold my face between his hands. “Promise me you will call if you so much as think you’re going to hurl. If you’re sick, the guys will understand and I’ll leave. Promise you won’t overwork yourself today.”
“I wouldn’t think of it. I don’t want to get you or Britt sick. I just, I really don’t feel that bad. This was the first time today this happened,” I say, hoping he isn’t going to quarantine me and lock me in his office.
He walks me back to the front of the coffeehouse, insists on carrying my coffees out to the truck and kisses me on the forehead before letting me leave.
***
“Why are you here? Brian texted me asking I keep an eye on you.” Fuck.
I sigh deeply, because it’s all I can think to do, and rub my hands down my face.
“I’m fine. He worries worse than I do. Plus he’s a dad, so it’s natural for him to worry every time someone he loves feels yucky,” I say, then regret saying it because she’s giving me the evil eye. “I’ll see how I feel at lunch. If I feel worse, I’ll go home. I told him I wouldn’t overwork myself so drop it.”
She gives me a “mmhmm” under her breath as she unbuttons her coat and hangs it on the coat tree next to the newsroom door. Picking up her coffee, she takes a sip, looking at the ingredient checklist printed on the side of it before she sets it on her desk.
Caryn smiles at the cup.
“What was that?” I ask.
“What was what?”
“You smiled at your cup. That thing drove here with me and I carried it in and put it on your desk. Greg left you a message didn’t he?”
“What? No. Nah, I’m just smiling because you had him put an extra shot of espresso in. I thought it was nice of you to think of my caffeine needs,” she says, genuinely thanking me for the order.
“I didn’t tell him to put anything extra in there. I ordered my regular and your regular,” I say, turning back to my computer screen. “Boy’s got it bad if he’s trying to buy your heart with coffee. That’s how Brian got mine.”
“Yeah ... I know.” That’s it. Nothing else. Caryn sits down, starts her computer, goes through the mail from her inbox, checks her email, and drops all conversation about Greg.
We sit in silence, working on stories and answering emails, answering the phone and calling for interviews.
There’s finally a break, so I jump up and rush to the bathroom knowing if I don’t go now the likelihood of someone calling me when I do go later increases. It’s newsroom law — call people, leave messages, wait all day and when you walk out for a cup of coffee or to pee, they always call you back.
“You were taking forever. Are you okay?” Caryn says when I walk out of the restroom.
“Jesus Christ on a cracker, Caryn, I am fine.” I can’t keep the irritation from my voice. “I know you’re worried about me, thinking I’m sick or coming down with something but seriously, this is bordering on crazy stalker best friend status. What’s the deal?”
“Honestly? I don’t think it’s the food from yesterday and I definitely don’t think it’s the flu.” She looks down at the tile floor like it’s the most interesting thing in the building. Quietly, Caryn says, “Stell, when was your last period?”
Brian
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Two café Americano and a chocolate chip scone. Good luck with your research,” I say handing the order to a college age kid who looks like he has the fear of God in him. He’s rattled off a ton of information about researching things for a graduate thesis topic I don’t think I can even spell. “A lot of luck.”
“Thanks. I really need it. You’ll probably see me again later for a pick-me-up, though,” he says, walking away.
I hear Greg laughing behind me and turn to see him, arms crossed in front of his chest, shaking his head back and forth.
“Remember when w
e were that kid? Seems like it wasn’t that long ago we were trying to figure out what the hell we were doing with our lives. Now look at us,” he says holding his arms wide.
That’s what I do. I step forward and turn to lean on the counter next to my best friend and take a look at what we’ve created — a life, a thriving business, careers in an industry we didn’t really expect to have, and family.
“It is pretty amazing how far we’ve come. When we first decided to jump and move up here, I really didn’t expect this much ... success. That’s what we’ve found though, you know? Success.”
“And now you’re getting married, adding to the family —”
“Huh?” I interrupt him. Stella and I haven’t said anything to anyone about our plans to try for a baby right away. “What do you mean ‘adding to’? We have Britt and that’s all right now.”
Wide-eyed, Greg stares at me with a crooked grin on his lips and starts laughing again. “You’re joking right?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I respond in all seriousness.
“Hold on,” he says and walks up to the counter, calling to Tommy who’s washing off a table out front. “Come here. We need to have a chat with your big brother, dude.”
I’m being accosted and feel claustrophobic as Tommy comes around behind the counter. We’re between the morning and afternoon rush, so there are just a few stragglers sitting with their coffee and laptops enjoying the quiet.
“What’s up?” Tommy asks, leaning to rest against the counter across from me and Greg.
“You notice anything weird about Stella lately?” Greg asks him.
I watch Tommy mull the question over, chewing on his thumbnail as he thinks, before talking.
“Where should I start? Anytime I see her lately she’s either starving or looks like she’s going to vomit in the nearest trashcan. At Christmas, she had like a glass of wine. Singular. That chick will usually down a bottle or more during family gatherings from what Steph has told me,” he says, tapping his chin with his forefinger trying to think of something else that’s stood out recently. “Bri, don’t get pissed at me, but her shirts? The buttons have started straining.”
I look back and forth between him and Greg.
“I don’t think he understands,” Greg says to my brother. “Brian ... we’re no doctors, but we’ve all been around women who have been pregnant before, especially you. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice any of this.”
“She’s been busy with work, I’ve been busy here now that the college is back for the spring session. She’s been exhausted, so when we do spend the night together she’s out as soon as her head hits the pillow,” I ramble trying to make sense of it. “There’s no way. She would have told me. We had a scare back right after we started seeing each other, but we’ve been careful since then.”
“Are you sure?” Greg asks.
How could she be pregnant and not tell me? Haven’t we been careful?
“Oh shit.” I say it more to myself than either of the guys, but they both turn to look at me. “Thanksgiving. When we came back from Tennessee after Steph was attacked.”
I count in my head.
“That was what, two months or so ago?” Tommy says.
“Nine weeks.” For nine weeks I’ve been stuck inside my own head and not seeing things going on right in front of me. “Christmas morning, when I took the coffee cake out of the pan, she looked like she was going to be sick, but I figured it was because we’d hardly slept. When Stell doesn’t get a lot of sleep she gets queasy, you know, so I didn’t think anything of it.”
I didn’t question the porn-worthy noises she was making while eating apple pie either, but I don’t mention it to them.
“Why did you decide to bring this up now if you guys have been noticing all of these things for weeks? I’ve been oblivious to any of it and have no idea how. I see her every day, every night. I see her naked and I’ve missed all of this. Even the expanding bust line,” I say angrily, glaring at Tommy.
He opens his mouth to say something and, like a fish out of water struggling to breathe, closes it again.
“Honestly, Bri, I thought you knew but you guys were just keeping it quiet. I mean, you’ve got the wedding coming up in a few months, we’ve got a ton of stuff going on here at the coffeehouse, Stella’s always super busy at the paper,” Greg says, breaking the tension between me and Tommy. “It wasn’t until I saw how you acted this morning with her almost getting sick in your office that I figured out you have no fucking clue. Oddly enough, she doesn’t seem to know either.”
“She blamed it on food she ate yesterday. I figured she was coming down with a bug, the flu or something,” I say looking at my boots and wrapping my hands around the back of my neck. “She’s just stubborn enough to think it’s not the obvious, too. Fuck.”
Tommy steps across the small walkway between the counters and then the Three Amigos are standing together, Tom and Greg each with a hand on one of my shoulders. It’s like when I found out Emily was pregnant with Britt, they were both there with me, only that wasn’t a happy time — I wasn’t in love with Emily and I wondered how I could have been so stupid. If this is true, if Stella’s pregnant, I’m ecstatic, but still scared.
“Y’all are getting married. This should be a happy thing, Brian. You’re a great dad and you love kids, so you can’t for a second make me think you’re not happy about this,” my brother says quietly in my ear.
He doesn’t get it.
“I am happy, T, but I’m more worried about my soon-to-be father-in-law,” I say and watch as the fear registers on both their faces. “How’s he going to take it when he finds out his baby girl got knocked up before her wedding? Dale can be scary when he’s mad, guys. I never want to be on the receiving end of his anger.”
I cover my face with both hands.
What is he going to think of me?
Maybe it’s worse that, despite my profound respect for Dale, it really doesn’t matter what he thinks.
“It’ll be okay. I have to talk to Stella, though, and find out if she seriously thinks she’s getting sick or that it’s because of something she ate,” I say more to myself than anyone else. “We both know how babies are made.”
“Yeah, they come from the stork. Everyone knows that,” a familiar voice says from the other side of the counter.
I uncover my face and watch a rare grin light up Max’s features. He’s usually the broody, miserable police officer type — a sight the guys and I have gotten used to since he’s started coming in daily after Steph’s attack — and the smile looks good on him.
“Hey man, what can I get you? Your regular?” Tommy asks, holding his hand out to shake Max’s.
“Yeah, that’ll be great. Make it a large, though. Rough morning with the cold temps. People forget how to drive in this weather,” Max says making small talk. “So, Brian, what’s the deal with the baby talk? You and Stella finally telling people?”
I stare at him. What the fuck?
If Greg, Tommy, and Max have noticed something is off with her ... “Seriously, how the hell did I miss all the signs?”
“Is he for real?” I hear Max ask Tommy.
“Yeah, afraid so. Seems our boy here hasn’t noticed all the weird going on with my future sister-in-law, which is odd because, in his words, he sees her naked all the time. What have you noticed?” Tommy queries the officer while pouring his coffee.
“For starters, our hardened reporter came in for police reports last week and burst into tears when she was checking the board with all the missing person fliers on it. Not just a few tears, guys, like full on sobbing. Chief had to pull her into his office while she calmed down. It was bizarre. Plus, her shirts,” he says and then chances a glance in my direction. “If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man.”
I’m strangling him with my mind powers. What is it with my friends, my brother, checking out my almost-wife’s breasts? Men are pigs. I can’t even be that mad, though, can
I? I used to do the same thing to every woman who walked past me.
No, I’m pretty sure I can be that mad.
The more important question is, how many fucks should I give about my brother and friends’ comments? About them noticing things about Stella that I seem to have ignored?
“Don’t even worry about it, Max. I said the same thing and got the same look,” Tommy says laughing and pointing his thumb over his shoulder at me. “Good thing she’s madly in love with that guy.”
“No doubt. Tell the missus I said congratulations. That’s going to be one good lookin’ kid,” he says dropping a couple bills in Tommy’s hand and taking a step toward the door as his radio sounds. “That’s my cue. Another one in a ditch, I’m sure. See you later, guys.”
***
It’s not often that I don’t know how to tackle something — a project, an upset customer, Britt’s homework, Whiskey chewing on something he shouldn’t.
When it comes to Stella, it’s the same. I’m almost always spot on when I jump in as a problem solver. Or I try to be.
This time, though, I’m at a loss for solutions.
I’m distracted.
No. That’s an understatement.
I’m confused and distracted ... not sure how to handle this situation.
“How could she not know?” I say into the silence of my kitchen, dumping another cup of flour in my large stainless steel bowl.
I came home to bake after the afternoon caffeine rush. I needed to clear my head and that can only happen a few ways.
Since it’s a little early to tie into a six-pack and try drinking my way through problem solving, woodworking or baking were the only options left when I walked through the house this afternoon. I could bake bread in my sleep, so it won out over the chance of cutting my arm off in the woodshop because my head is somewhere else.
Slowly, I sink my hands into the dough, pulling it from the bowl to the counter and I give myself fully to the moment. Pushing the dough into itself, I thrust aside the fears and uncertainties; I knead away the confusion and doubt.
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