Page 128 of Angel

When I stopped to grab dinner after the session, my usual preferences betrayed me.

I was repulsed by the organic green salads I ate twice a day.

My body demanded grease, so I marched into Chipotle and devoured a massive steak burrito.

Back home, in the kitchen, I opened a fresh blackberry pie from the farmer’s market.

When the blade sliced the crust, an odor hit my nose that turned my tummy.

The baker must have used lard, a detail I never detected before.

I slapped a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream onto the plate regardless, stuffing my face to quiet my ravenous hunger.

A sudden, terrifying thought struck my brain.

Was I pregnant?

No way.

Then my breasts began to ache with a deep, throbbing soreness.

I blamed the pain on an old, stretched sports bra I wore during my core class.

By the next afternoon, the shooting ache grew so intense that I marched into a department store lingerie aisle.

I stood near the racks, holding my chest and gasping out loud from the sheer discomfort.

Even then, I resisted the truth.

Still, I forced my shaking hands to pick up a test at the pharmacy, then rushed back home.

Angel’s truck was missing from the garage; he was likely working late again at the city studio.

I ran up the stairs and locked myself in the bathroom.

I tore the foil packaging with my teeth and peed on the stick.

When the distinct blue lines popped up on the digital screen, my breath hitched.

I stared at the plastic stick for five solid minutes, my pulse racing in a chaotic blend of terror and fierce, protective joy.

I was carrying Angel’s child.

Needing a second opinion, I booked an urgent morning appointment with my general practitioner.

Two days later, I walked out of Dr. Laurence’s clinic in a daze.

The blood work and the doctor confirmed the truth; I was pregnant, four weeks along.

My body was still not showing, but it was sending the signals loud and clear about my pregnancy.

I burned out, shattered by 3 p.m. every day.

I couldn’t keep my head up, and I needed at least one nap to get through the day, plus 9 to 10 hours of sleep.

The exhaustion was non-stop.

I took sick days off, feeling like I was coming down with a huge flu.