Tales of a Sibby Slicker (The Sibby Chronicles Book 2)

by Samantha Garman

  “It’s not?” I sniffed.

  “No. You have a husband who loves you. You love him. Your kid is gonna be gorgeous and have me for an aunt.”

  “My kid is gonna be short, have frizzy hair, allergies, and be fated to have it’s own version of Sibby’s Law.”

  “Only half Sibby’s Law,” she said. “Aidan’s genes should counterbalance the klutzy.”

  “It’s gonna need braces.”

  “Probably.”

  “It’s gonna cry a lot.”

  “Definitely.

  “And it’s gonna tell me I’m the worst mother in the world!” I burst into tears.

  “Uh, that title already belongs to my mother,” Annie said, tone dry. “It’s gonna love you so much, Sibby.”

  “It might be a boy!” I wailed.

  “It might.”

  “Or a girl!” I went on.

  “Well, it’s got a fifty-fifty chance.”

  “I don’t know what to do with either. Kids pick their noses—and then wipe it in places.”

  “Dude, most adults do that,” she pointed out.

  I moaned.

  “You’re not looking at this the right way,” Annie said. “Sit up.”

  As I wiped the tears from my cheeks, I grabbed the end of the toilet paper roll and pulled. “How am I supposed to look at it?”

  “Aidan wanted a kid; he gets a kid. You know what you get?”

  I shook my head.

  “A grateful husband who will do anything you want. You want pickles and Oreos in the middle of the night, he’ll go get them for you.”

  “Ew that sounds—hmmm, good actually?”

  She raised a blonde brow. “Really?”

  “No, it sounds awful. What else do I have to look forward to?”

  “Er—”

  “You were winging that speech, weren’t you?” I said with a laugh.

  “Maybe. How’d I do?”

  “It’s over already? Please, I need a bit more.”

  She blew out a breath, startling her bangs. “Okay. Give me a second. Oh, I got it!”

  “Yeah?”

  “You can finally use the phrase, ‘Because I said so.’ And they can’t really argue.”

  “Pretty sure the kid will argue.”

  “It’ll be cute. Really fucking cute.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’ll make you happy. And sad, and angry, and every emotion in between. You’re a writer. You can use all that.”

  I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “That might’ve been better than your maid-of-honor speech.”

  “You’re gonna be okay?” Annie asked, hugging me goodbye at her door.

  “Think so,” I said. I refused to let go of her and just held on. “What about you?”

  “Think so,” she mirrored. “Just need some time, you know? I need to get my head on straight.”

  “Yeah.” I pulled back. “I get that. But no more radio silence, okay?”

  “Promise.”

  “I’m gonna need you,” I whispered. “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

  “No one has any idea what they’re doing. I think they call that life.”

  “When did you get so philosophical?” I demanded.

  “After my second vodka cran.”

  “You drank? When?”

  “When you were peeing on the stick. I had two. One for me, one for you. Since, you know, can’t drink anymore.”

  “And you just had to go there, didn’t you? I won’t even miss the booze.”

  We stared at each other for a long minute before both saying, “Lies.”

  “Are you going to tell him tonight?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I’m no good at keeping secrets.”

  “How do you feel about it?”

  “Don’t know yet. Still kinda in shock.”

  She nodded. “Makes sense to me. Text when you get home?”

  “Yeah, I will. Drink another vodka cran for me?”

  “Count on it.” Annie grinned and then pulled me into another hug.

  My phone rang again. “I better get that. It’s the third time he’s called.” I pressed a button and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Sibby? Sibby, where are you?” he demanded, sounding frantic.

  “With Annie,” I said, voice totally calm and normal. Too normal. Too Stepford Wife. “You do know you have the ‘find your wife’ app on your phone, right?”

  “Forgot about it,” he admitted. “I’m home. I got John to come in and cover. Sibby, listen, Gemma meant—”

  “I don’t care about Gemma.” It was the truth. I didn’t care that Aidan had been with her at some point before we got together. I just didn’t like that Aidan had called her hot. And I also didn’t like that Caleb was already out and sowing his oats, but then again, it wasn’t any of my business.

  “You don’t?” He sounded surprised.

  “I don’t,” I reiterated. “I’m on my way home. See you in a few?”

  “Yeah. Love you, Sibby,” he said, tone husky.

  Tears prickled my eyes. “Love you, too.” I hung up with him and looked at Annie.

  “You guys are disgusting.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Sugary sweet and too happy.”

  “I know.”

  She hugged me again. “I’m really glad.”

  Chapter 14

  #untothebreach

  I got to the front door of the apartment and just stared at it. In the hallway, I was still Sibby: klutzy, sarcastic, bumbling Sibby. When I went through that door, I would become someone else. Someone accountable. Someone who had to be responsible for another human.

  It scared the living shit out of me.

  Were baboons this theoretical?

  With a deep breath, I unlocked the door. Aidan was sitting on the couch watching TV, but the moment he saw me, he clicked the remote and the TV went dark. He jumped up and came to me, wrapping me in his arms.

  “I feel like things have been off with us,” he said into my hair. “And I don’t know if it’s because Annie and Caleb split, and we inevitably chose sides, but—”

  “Aidan, stop.” He quieted and I wrapped my arms tighter around him.

  “Nat said to tell you she’d see you later,” he drawled.

  “Ah, crap. I left her high and dry, didn’t I? I’ll call her tomorrow.”

  “It’s okay. I gave her a few drinks, made her sit and talk to me.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, stroking my hair.

  “Kids.”

  His arms tightened around me. “What about kids?”

  “I think…giving one a shot isn’t a bad idea.”

  He pulled back, so he could look down at me. His eyes searched mine. “I don’t understand. Just yesterday you weren’t ready.”

  I inhaled. “Yesterday, I didn’t know I was pregnant.”

  Aidan blinked blue eyes—eyes I really hoped our baby had. And his dimples. And his heart. He had such a good heart, and he loved me with all of it.

  “Sibby,” he whispered. “Are you—”

  “Yeah, Aidan. I’m pregnant.”

  His expression was concerned, his touch comforting. “And are you…happy about it?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded slowly. “I am.”

  His smile was slow, and then it became a full grin. He swept me into his arms and spun me around the room, dusting my face with noisy kisses before setting me down. “You sure you’re happy?”

  Laughing, I snuggled against his chest. “I’m sure.”

  “You found out with Annie, didn’t you?”

  “She’s the one who told me I needed to take a pregnancy test. I had strawberry ice cream,” I explained. “You mad? That you weren’t the first to know?”

  “You needed your girl. I’m glad she was there for you.”

  “I’m glad she was, too.”

  We were curled up in bed, and I was near comatose due to Aidan’s exuberan
t show of virility. Not that I was complaining. Not at all.

  “So how do you think it happened?” Aidan asked. His fingers ran up and down my arm, lulling me into an even deeper trance.

  I snorted. “When a sperm and egg go out for drinks—”

  “Hey!” He gently poked me in the side, making me squirm. “I know how it works.”

  “Oh, good. Because that was about to be a really awkward talk.”

  Aidan chuckled. “Can you be serious for one moment?”

  “Nope. Not in my wife contract.”

  He moved so he was looking down at me, his expression tender. “You’ve made me so happy, Sibby. You made me the happiest man in the world when you married me. And you did it again when you told me you were pregnant. I’m just”—he leaned over to give me a kiss—“I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Say nothing. Just go back to rubbing me.”

  Aidan laughed again. “I guess I just got some insight into the next many months.”

  I looked down at my still-flat belly, picturing it huge and mountainous. Better not to think of it or hyperventilation might occur.

  My phone pinged. I didn’t even move from my comfortable spot. I felt Aidan lean over me to the bedside table. “It’s Annie.”

  I cracked an eyelid. “You read it. I’m too tired.”

  “It’s a link to a website.”

  My eyes drifted closed. “Hmmm.”

  “‘Why condoms fail.’” He was quiet for a moment and then said, “Sibby, wake up—read this.”

  I didn’t move. “Why don’t you read it to me.”

  He sighed. “Remember we had a random front move in when we were camping?”

  “Uh, yeah. I remember.”

  “And remember how we had sex that day?”

  “Yes.”

  “Remember how it dropped dramatically in temperature?”

  “Spit it out, Aidan,” I groused. “I want to go to sleep.”

  “The condom froze and then thawed. Our protection became defective.”

  “This is so me,” I muttered. “Only I would get knocked up while trying to use protection and being prepared.”

  “You’re a rotten Girl Scout.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  The next day, my doctor was able to squeeze me in for a quick appointment. After confirming my pregnancy and projecting my due date for the end of June, she congratulated me and then gave me a prescription for prenatal vitamins. Aidan had gone with me, but then he’d headed to work.

  I’d just gotten my prescription filled, and the bottle rested in the basket when I heard someone ask, “Are you Sibby Goldstein?” A young woman with a blonde bob and hot pink tips stood in front of me, a hopeful smile on her face.

  “Hi,” I greeted. “I’m Sibby. Have we met—”

  She shook her head, sending pink tips swinging back and forth. “No, we’ve never met. I recognized you from your Instagram account.” She glanced at the wrist. “How’s it healing?”

  “It’s okay,” I answered. Sometimes I forgot that I shared my klutzy with the world.

  “I’m a huge fan. I’m Stacy.” She held out her hand. I gave her an awkward shake with my casted wrist. “I’ve been following you since you shot off that cork and hit your ex with it.”

  I let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Total fluke. I swear I didn’t plan it.”

  “Would you mind if I got a picture of us?” Her brown eyes were hopeful.

  “Ah, sure.” I really wasn’t in the mood for a photo-op, but it wasn’t Stacy’s fault I had a ton on my mind. She smushed close to me and got her camera into position.

  “Smile,” she said, snapping a bajillion photos. When Stacy was satisfied she’d gotten enough, she tucked her phone away. “Thanks, Sibby.”

  “My pleasure.”

  With a wave, Stacy went on her way but kept glancing back at me every few seconds. I held my smile until I was sure she was out of sight. I looked down at the prenatal vitamins in the basket and hoped she hadn’t seen them.

  On my way home from running errands, I texted Nat and apologized for storming out and leaving her to her own devices. She replied right away telling me all was good. I debated on whether or not to break the news to her I was pregnant, but I decided to keep it to myself. After all, I hadn’t called my own parents yet to tell them. I knew the moment I told my mother, she’d blab it to the entire family, not to mention all her friends. I wasn’t ready for the barrage of phone calls and emails, all the well-wishers.

  The baby thing had completely taken over my life—so much so I couldn’t even think about my career. And I needed to. Alex had called a few times, but I’d let her calls roll to voicemail. I still didn’t know what to tell her because I hadn’t even come to any conclusions about what to do about my book with the unlikeable heroine.

  I could always beef up the ending, I supposed. Give her a John Cusack-type of moment where she really made an ass of herself to win back the hero.

  Everyone seemed to have a problem with the hero forgiving her too soon. Like, they really wanted her to have to work for it. But at what point did that just draw out the story for no reason? They loved each other, so wouldn’t the hero forgive her quickly? Not every story had to be ridiculously dramatic.

  I needed to speak to someone who could be completely objective, and I could think of no one better to talk to than my creative writing professor.

  When I got home, I set my grocery bags on the kitchen table and took out my phone, intending to call Milton Brandford. My eyes widened when I saw my screen light up with notification after notification. My Instagram account was going berserk.

  “What the hell?” I asked, unlocking my phone.

  That. Bitch.

  Stacy had tagged a photo of us together and written, “Obsessed with the Dirty Chef Series! Congrats @SibbyGoldstein”. In the bottom of the picture, the label on the bottle of prenatal vitamins was visible.

  She’d outed my pregnancy to the Internet—before I’d even told my mother.

  I was so busted.

  Once the news of my pregnancy had broken due to the fact that there was no such thing as privacy anymore, I’d done the adult thing, taken a deep breath, and then gone on a cursing rampage. Refusing to call Aidan—he wasn’t a professional firefighter, after all—I waited until he came home from the bar to break the news that our special news was no longer ours to share.

  “She’s got fifty-five thousand Instagram followers!” Aidan remarked in bemusement.

  “Good for her,” I muttered from underneath a gray couch pillow.

  “Holy shit, she’s got even more Facebook followers…and a makeup tutorial YouTube channel.”

  “Stop, Aidan, I don’t care. That bitch—”

  “Is a book blogger,” he interrupted.

  I threw off the pillow, letting it hit the floor. “What?”

  Aidan clicked a few times and a beautiful, professional website popped up. “Whoah. This looks legit.”

  “This is karma, you know,” I told him, getting up off the couch and heading to the kitchen.

  “How do you figure?”

  I poured a glass of orange juice. “I was the reason everyone at Antonio’s found out about Nat’s pregnancy. This is just the universe getting me back.”

  “Well, it really kicked your ass,” he mused. “Because this is on a much bigger scale.”

  Clutching the glass of juice, I nodded. “I know. Let’s just hope my mom—”

  My cell phone rang.

  Aidan looked at it. With a grimace, he held it up to me. “Her ears must’ve been burning.”

  Chapter 15

  #hurricane5hitsNY #thebubbehaslanded

  I stared at my phone like it was a hostile entity. I took it from Aidan’s hand and then set it down, turning off the ringer. It vibrated across the coffee table, dancing, mocking, demanding to be answered.

  “You will not break me,” I muttered.

  “Just answer it.”

  “No.”r />
  “Why not? Ten bucks says she saw the Instagram photo.”

  “That’s my stupid fault.” I ran a hand across my face. “I’m the one who set up her account so she could follow me. I have no one to blame but myself.”

  “She follows me, too,” Aidan commented. “And she sends me cat videos.”

  I looked at him. “Yeah? When did that start?”

  “Few weeks ago.”

  The phone fell silent and then immediately started vibrating again.

  “You’re going to make her year,” he said with a soft smile. “She’s finally becoming a grandmother.”

  “Making her year? Try making her life. From the moment I was born, she’s waited for this, trust me.” I sighed. “Why are you not more upset about Stacy? Or about my mother finding out?”

  “Oh, I’m royally pissed off at Stacy. But I’m also happy. So even though I hate that she took away our news and our privacy, I’m glad people know.”

  “I wish we’d had more time to keep this to ourselves.”

  “How much time were you hoping for?”

  “Ten years?”

  “Sibby—”

  “You answer the phone, Aidan. Give me this. I’m housing your child. If you’re nice to me, I’ll make sure it’s a boy so you can do boy stuff together, like throw a ball around, or commiserate about the stock market.”

  “I’m sorry, are you giving birth to a forty-five-year-old accountant? And don’t you know it’s the sperm’s job to decide the gender? Did you even pass sex ed? Your dad’s a doctor!”

  I pointed at him. “Not the way to win this one.”

  He grasped my finger and brought it to his lips. “We went to the doctor. We were going to tell them anyway—”

  “No, we weren’t,” I countered.

  “We weren’t?” Aidan raised an eyebrow and then took the glass of orange juice from me to down the rest.

  “Not until the three month mark. In Judaism, it’s bad luck to announce a pregnancy before the end of the first trimester. Some women even wear a ruby because they believe it protects against miscarriage.”