CHAPTER
TEN
Mindy
Now that I’m in the second trimester, the morning sickness that has plagued me has eased off significantly. We told our family about the baby, and outside of those who know the truth, everyone else immediately presumed that I was pregnant by Cruz before we got married. We haven’t disabused them of that notion, even though my therapist feels that all of my family should know the truth.
But I’m scared to death of Brock’s reaction, because Jolie told me that when she shared what happened with Dex, he punched a hole in the wall. Knowing howhereacted, I feel like Brock will be ten times worse. Still, I hate keeping this secret from him, especially since he’s started finding gender neutral things for his ‘favorite oldest niece’ since he feels it’s going to be a girl as well.
Today’s the gender reveal, which Jolie, along with Nonna and Abuela, have overseen. Only the doctor and Jolie know the sex, but the women who treat me like I’m their granddaughter as well, took care of all the food.
“Are you ready for this?” Cruz asks as he comes into the bedroom where I’ve been getting ready.
“Yeah, do you think Jolie will be mad at me?” I reply. “I mean, it only makes sense to do theirs as well since we’re due around the same time.”
“Dex gave the go-ahead, so if you need to, throw him under the bus,” he says, chuckling.
“I just hope… well, regardless of our baby’s gender, I hope that our kids will be best friends like we are,” I muse as I slip on a pair of sandals.
Because my balance has been a little bit off kilter, I put my heels to the side and now have slides, crocs, flip-flops, and sandals. If I wasn’t wearing a cute dress that shows off the hint of my baby bump, I’d have my flip-flops on, but I’m trying to look presentable.
“How did you pull this off?” Jolie asks as she enters our backyard and sees the signs.
“I had a little help from your hubby,” I tease as she walks toward the two baby wardrobes that are in the middle of the yard, surrounded by a huge balloon arch in pink, blue, green, yellow, and white.
“We’re going to be moms together, Min,” she says, bursting into tears.
Because I’m on the same hormone bus as her, I join in and soon, we’re clinging to each other crying our eyes out. We can’t get asclose as usual since our respective bumps prevent it, but still, we do our best.
“What the hell is going on?” Dex asks after having crossed the lawn to reach his wife.
“We’re just both so happy that we’re doing this at the same time,” Jolie replies, still blubbering.
Dex sighs and shakes his head, used to the two of us and the way we sometimes get dramatic. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he starts wiping her face off, which is covered in tears, as well as the makeup she had on. “You’re going to have to either go without the goop you insist on applying or fix your face, sweetheart.”
She turns and looks at me and says, “What are you gonna do?”
“You know I’m an ugly crier, so I probably need to fix my face. Come on, we’ll go get it done before the festivities start.”
“They can’t start without us,” she teases, looping her arm through mine and tugging me toward the back doors. “We’ll be right back! Just some pregnancy hormones that needed releasing!”
Outside of Cruz’s parents and sisters, who don’t live here, everyone else has gotten used to how we fall apart at the drop of a hat. Pregnancy hormones add the Y and capitalize it to our already out of whack, crazy demeanors. It’s why both men now have either handkerchiefs or tissues in their pockets at all times when the two of us are together. Granted, I’m not much better when I’m by myself. Cruz caught me in hysterics the other night when I saw one of those ASPCA commercials. I wanted to adopt every single one of them to ensure they’re never euthanized or go hungry again.
Somehow, he convinced me that we could help an animal better by giving it a home than by donating money that likely covers the big wig’s pockets. So, we’re going to go to an adoption event next weekend to see if any of the animals call to us. I want a cat but was worried about the whole possibility of toxoplasmosis, and Cruz said we’d get an automatic litter box and he’d take care of emptying it while I was pregnant.
“We’ve got good men,” I whisper to Jolie as we work to fix our faces.
“Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but you’re my best friend, so I’m just gonna do it,” she replies. “Have y’all… you know?”
I shake my head, almost poking my eye out with my mascara wand. “No, not yet, but I wake up every morning wrapped in his arms and my first thought isn’t to scream bloody murder or freeze up.”
“Just take your time,” she advises, knowing this topic is a hard one for me to talk about or even ponder. Despite the fact that we talk about any and everything, even sex, that stopped when I was raped.
“That’s the plan, but dang, these hormones are making it so that it feels like they’re overriding my fear,” I retort. “Not like I had a lot of boyfriends like that before, butnoneof them have ever made me feel the way he does.”
“He’s your one, Mindy. I hate how things happened so he would be in your life, but he genuinely cares for you. Hell, at this point, I think he loves you.”
I’m already shaking my head as I fix my hair since Jolie’s still putting on makeup. “It’s too soon for that,” I whisper. “But IknowI love him, Jolie. I’m just scared of having sex with him.”
