I tell him and Emmy as I buckle the seat belt around Erin, even as she weakly swats at me, “At first, I thought maybe it was all the excitement of seeing each other after a whole month. Like anxiety or something. But she said she hit turbulence on the flight, so she thought maybe it was motion sickness.” And then I direct a question at my girl, “Sugar, do you normally get car-sick? Motion sickness? Shit, even sea-sick?”
She shakes her head. “No, not normally. It’s always Em who needs all the Dramamine and stuff. I’ve usually got a tummy of steel.”
I see Emmy nod in the backseat as Dean shuts the door behind him. “It’s true. She can go on any roller coaster and not be fazed by the loops and twists, while I feel like I’m going to die.”
I frown at that, closing the passenger door and rounding the front of my truck before hopping back in the driver seat.
When we get home, I help Dean carry in their luggage as Emmy wraps her arm around Erin’s waist, walking with her inside. I hurry to the fridge and pour her a glass of Sprite, and she gratefully gulps it down.
“You want some crackers or something, baby? Another potato?” I murmur, wrapping one arm around the small of her back and pushing her hair behind her ear.
She shakes her head vigorously, sneering a little. “Not right now, but thank you. I think I just need to lie down for a little bit.”
I nod and give Emmy a look, and she silently agrees, taking Erin’s arm in hers and leading her up the stairs. She knows the layout from the couple times she and Dean have been over for dinner while in California for either network meetings or if they’re filming an episode nearby.
“She all right?” Dean asks as he comes in from grabbing the last of their bags.
“I think so. I hope it’s not like a stomach bug or something. I’d hate for her to have to miss the award show if she’s sick,” I tell him, and he follows me into the kitchen, where I ask if he’d like something to drink. I crack us open two bottled waters, and after he takes a big gulp, he looks at me.
“She seemed perfectly fine at the airport. I think if it was a stomach bug, she wouldn’t have felt like wrestling with my wife in the middle of the floor for all to see,” he points out, and then his face grows pensive. “You said she threw up when she first got here too?”
“Yep, poor thing,” I answer.
“And then she was fine up until just then outside?” he prompts.
I nod. “Exactly.”
“So it’s like… coming in waves of nausea?” He lifts a brow.
And when I narrow my eyes, giving him a drawled, “Yeeeah,” he rubs his chin in thought. “What is it?” I ask impatiently, wanting to know what he thinks might be making my woman feel like shit.
“I was just thinking about how my wife did the same thing before we found out she was pregnant. Perfectly fine one minute, and then puking her brains out the next. They may call that shit morning sickness, but we can vouch it was morning, noon, and middle of the night,” he says, giving a little chuckle as if he’s reminiscing the experience.
But I’m already shaking my head. “I’m sure you know, since our women are so close, that Erin can’t have kids. Plus, we’ve only had sex one time since we’ve been together.”
“Bro, don’t you remember sex ed? It only takes one time. And she can get pregnant, it’s just highly unlikely. And if she does, it’s even less of a chance she won’t miscarry,” he tells me, a worried look in his eyes, even though I can tell he’s trying to hide it for my sake.
I shake my head once again in denial. “There’s no way, man. She said it’d be an absolute miracle if she ever got pregnant again. This can’t be that. She’s gotta have a bug or something.” But even as I say the words, something niggles the back of my mind and my heart gives an exaggerated thump at the possibility.
What was it I read when I researched Erin’s condition? Something about the surgery she had seven months ago now. I can’t remember.
I meet Dean’s eyes. “But it can’t hurt to find out for sure, right?”
He gives me a tentative smile. “Right, bro. I’ll hold down the fort,” he tells me, sensing exactly what I want to do.
“Thanks, man!” I call over my shoulder, jogging to the front door and waving over at him. And then I hop in my truck, trying not to speed as I drive to the nearest drugstore.
Chapter 23
Erin
“WHY AM I dyiiing?” I whine, snuggling into my best friend, where I have my head on her soft tummy as she rubs my back. “I finally get a long weekend with that fine piece of ass, and I can’t stop puking my brains out. What’s wrong with me?”
“Well, we’ve already established what it’s not. You don’t get motion sickness. You feel relatively fine one minute, and then vomit the next. You didn’t eat anything out of the ordinary, did you?” she asks.
“No. I just had a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit before my flight. Nothing tasted off about it.” I think for a moment. “It felt almost like an anxiety attack, so I thought I was just nervous about seeing Curtis again.”
“Maybe,” she replies, but she sounds doubtful.
“And then all the excitement of seeing you,” I add.
And she placates, “Maybe.”
I sit up, narrowing my eyes on her. “All right, spit it out. Quit babying me with all the maybes and tell me what you think.”
Her nostrils flare as she takes a deep inhale, and I brace myself for her response. “Okay, so don’t freak out,” she tells me.
I close my eyes, already knowing what she’s going to say. And somehow, in my heart, I know she’s right.
“It’s possible, Rin. Y’all didn’t use a condom.”
But I shake my head, wanting to be in denial for a little longer before I have my heart broken once more, knowing I’ll soon have two angel babies in heaven instead of one. One is more than enough.
“No.” My lip trembles, my eyes filling with tears. “The doctor said it’d be a miracle if it ever happened again.”
She tucks my hair behind my ear, giving me a small smile. “Miracles happen, babe.”
“But… but I’m going to lose—” My voice hiccups, and my hand presses to my still-flat stomach.
She shakes her head. “You don’t know that, Rin. Remember, you never had morning sickness last time,” she whispers. “Dean always reminded me while I was praying to the porcelain gods, trying to make me feel better, that morning sickness is a sign that everything is all right, that the pregnancy was going how it should. You’ve already been sick twice today.”
And then my eyes meet hers with worry for a different reason. “Oh, God. Curtis. He’s going to think I lied to him, that I trapped him on purpose because he’s a super-hot, rich, famous celebrity!” I cry, and my head whips around at the sound of my favorite voice in the whole world.
“Curtis is not going to think that, even though I appreciate the fact that you think I’m super-hot.” He gives me a smile, although I still see worry in the lines at the corners of his eyes.
I glance down, seeing a Walgreens bag in his hand, and I understand he must have his own suspicion of what’s been going on with me today.
“You want to do it alone, sugar?” he asks, stepping up to the side of his bed, and I shake my head.
“No. I mean, yes, for the peeing part. But I want y’all here for the test part,” I murmur.
He reaches across Emmy and scoops me up, and she slaps my ass when I’m midair above her right before he holds me against his body.
“You got this, babe. Remember, miracles happen. And everything will be fine,” she tells me as he carries me to the bathroom, setting me on my feet before handing me the plastic bag.
Before I turn away to head toward the toilet, he yanks me to him, his arms engulfing me before he kisses me like his life depends on it. When he finally pulls away, I’m wobbly on my feet and love drunk.
“I love you,” he whispers. “No matter what happens, no matter how everything turns out. Whether everything go
es smoothly or whether it’s not meant to be, I love you with everything in me. You will always be the one I want. Only you, sugar.”
With my heart in my throat, all I can do is nod. And then he spins me around and gives me a little nudge toward the toilet. I hear his and Emmy’s unintelligible voices going back and forth as I shut myself inside the little room with the toilet.
My heart pounds inside my chest as I unbox the test, taking great care to aim correctly and pee on the stick, slipping the cover back on the end of it before wiping and pulling up my leggings. I don’t look at the test as I open the door and carry it with me to the vanity, where I wash my hands, refusing to even peek at the window that will give me the results. I dry my hands on a towel hanging next to the mirror and carry the test out into the bedroom, where there are three sets of eyes now staring back at me, as Dean has Emmy pulled onto his lap, his back against Curtis’s headboard. Curtis is sitting on the end of the bed, his knees jumping up and down a mile a minute as he waits for me to approach him.
And in this moment, as scary as my near future could turn out to be, there is nowhere I’d rather be than in the company of the people in this room right now. I’ve never felt so safe in such a terrifying situation in my life.
I walk up to Curtis, and he pulls me between his legs, turning me sideways and tugging me down to sit on his thigh. I still refuse to look at the test, unsure what I want the results to be. I haven’t even had time to think about any of that.
I grab hold of his wrist and turn his hand over so his palm is facing up, and I lay the test in the center of it. Then I rest my chin on his shoulder, looking over his back to lock eyes with Emmy. She can’t hide the emotions on her face. They’re bouncing between excitement and worry, but anticipation is always there in her eyes. And when I feel Curtis’s head bow, knowing he’s looking at the test in his hand, I close my eyes, praying for… I don’t know what. Do I pray it’s positive? Even at the risk of losing our baby? Do I pray it’s negative, so we don’t have to worry any more about it?
So I pray for everything to just work out the way it’s supposed to.
I wobble on Curtis’s thigh as I feel the bed shift, and I open my eyes to see Emmy crawling as fast as her hands and knees can move over the thick covers as she reaches Curtis’s back. Her hand wraps around the back of my head and into my hair to hold me tight in a hug as best she can as she looks over my guy’s shoulder.
And I hear her gasp.
Just as Curtis turns his head more in her direction.
“What does that mean? Two lines side by side. Is that two minuses? Like negative? Would it be a plus sign for positive?” he asks, his body starting to tremble beneath me, and I hear my best friend’s giddy voice respond as I bury my face in the side of his neck, tears welling in my eyes as I already know the answer.
“No! Two lines means positive! You’re pregnant!” she squeals, and I pull my eyes up enough to watch as she stands up on the bed and starts jumping, chanting with each hop, “Miracle baby! Miracle baby! Miracle baby!” And then “Belle’s getting a cousin! Belle’s getting a cousin!” And her enthusiasm is contagious as I allow myself ten seconds of hope that this will all work out okay.
Curtis’s arms encircle my waist and he falls back on the bed, hauling me with him as he lets out a whoop, and Emmy plops down on her ass before—gently—dogpiling on top of me. I feel her smack a kiss to my cheek before I peek up to see Dean picking her up off me, a huge grin on his handsome face. He gives me a wink as Emmy tries to wiggle out of his arms, but when he tells her, “Let them have this moment, love,” she settles down and melts against him with a nod. They disappear out the bedroom, and I hear the door close behind them.
Curtis
I feel her trembling against me, and I don’t know whether she’s crying or laughing. I wrap my arms even more tightly around her, holding her to me. “Are you okay, sugar?” She nods against my chest and I relax a bit until I hear her soft voice.
“We need to go to the doctor. What time is it?” she asks.
“It’s 6:06 p.m.,” I reply.
“Shit,” she says, “they won’t be open again until tomorrow.”
I chuckle. “Baby, if you wanted to go to a doctor right this minute, I could make that happen.”
“How?” she questions. “The doctor’s offices stay open later here?”
“This is LA. Doctors don’t set office hours; dollar bills do.” I smirk.
“I never thought I would be grateful for your cockiness,” she tells me, looking at me with hopeful eyes.
“So do you, baby? You want me to find a doctor right now?” She nods, her gaze turning pleading, even though she doesn’t need to beg. I would literally give her anything she wants in this very moment. I reach into my pocket, not letting her go with the other arm, and I make a call to my assistant. Within minutes, Rachel is sending me an address with an appointment to be there within thirty minutes.
Dean asks us if this is something we would like to do on our own, giving us the option for him and Emmy to stay here while I take my woman to see the doctor, but at Emmy and Erin’s simultaneous “No way!” that’s all the answer I need. We all pile back into my truck, thankfully making it to the office without Erin getting sick on the way, and when we arrive, Dr. McNealy meets us at his locked door, opening it up and allowing us in before locking it behind us once more.
A few minutes later, Erin is up on the exam table with me and Emmy sitting in the chairs along the wall, Dean choosing to stay behind in the waiting room.
“So what’s going on?” Dr. McNealy asks, and Erin holds out the pregnancy test, allowing him to see that it reads positive. “Well, congratulations are in order!” he says with a smile on his face that I see as I come to stand next to her.
Then I listen as the love of my life word-vomits her entire medical history onto the doctor. She explains to him in detail everything that went on from her miscarriage all the way until seven months ago, when she had her fibroid surgery. I watch the play of emotions across his face as I see the understanding with every slight nod of his head, and then his eyes alight, twinkling with mirth when he seems to put it all together in his head.
“Well, dear girl, I can tell you exactly what happened. Your myomectomy was successful in ridding your uterus of all the fibroids that would’ve been blocking any sperm from being able to enter the uterus through the cervix and into the fallopian tubes. Nevertheless, being diagnosed with a hostile uterus, you are still susceptible to miscarrying once again. But luckily there are now medications you can take in order to keep that from happening. And as long as we, or whoever your OB/GYN is, keep a good watch during the pregnancy, there is no reason why you shouldn’t be able to carry this little one full-term and have a healthy and happy baby.” He claps his hands, which give away he’s much older than what his plastic surgery enhanced face portrays.
A healthy and happy baby.
A healthy and happy baby.
A healthy and happy baby.
Those words circle my mind over and over again, the world seeming to finally slow down enough that it hits me what we’re actually doing here. It all seemed to happen so fast from the second in the kitchen when Dean suggested the idea of the pregnancy test to here, in this moment, with a medical professional telling us that it’s possible for us to have a healthy and happy baby, it repeats once more.
I look down at Erin, and although she’s a little paler than normal, looking a little green around the gills, I’ve never seen her look more beautiful than the second it all occurs to me.
I’m going to be a father.
Chapter 24
Erin
“SO THE QUESTION is now, what would you like to do? Do you want to wait until you can see your own OB/GYN before being placed on any type of medication? Or would you like to have me call in for your medical records and get you those prescriptions here?” Dr. McNealy asks.
I feel Curtis’s eyes on me as if he wants to talk about the decision, but I’ve alre
ady made up my mind about it before the question is all the way out of the doctor’s mouth. “Here. Now,” I say. “I have my medical records stored in my phone. I’m a therapist, so I know how handy those can be. If what you’re saying is true, then I don’t want to take any chances of losing the baby before I can get home to New Orleans on Monday. So go ahead and sign me up for these meds.”
I know I’ve made Curtis happy with my decision, because the soothing smile he’s kept on his face for me through all of this craziness turns into a huge grin and he nods before leaning down to kiss my cheek.
The next hour and a half is a whirlwind. Dr. McNealy runs another pregnancy test and the next thing I know, I’m pulling into Curtis’s driveway with a white paper bag of prescriptions.
Dean drags Emmy into their own room after we make plans to go to dinner in half an hour. This gives us all time to freshen up before we’re seen in public.
Curtis and I are in his bathroom. I don’t exactly know what to say, and for the first time ever, our silence is awkward. I grab my toiletries bag and set it up by the vanity, pulling out my makeup to put on. I hadn’t bothered before we went to get my best friend and her hubby at the airport, because I figured I’d cry it all off with happy tears anyway. Little did I know I would be crying it all off while having morning sickness in the middle of the day.
Morning sickness.
I’m pregnant.
With a baby.
A real, living, so-far healthy little bean that’s been growing inside me for almost five weeks now.
I’d never had morning sickness before. I hadn’t even known I was pregnant the first time, until I lost it.
I don’t realize I’ve frozen in place with my thoughts, my mascara halfway to my lashes, until Curtis’s arms wrap around my waist and his front presses against my back. My eyes focus on him in the mirror, and I replace the mascara wand into its tube. He has the most serene look on his face, as if he’s the happiest man alive, and I spin in his arms to look up at him, all awkwardness disappearing.
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