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Don’t panic. She’s just excited. She’s not going to try to run your baby’s life—and yours—like a drill sergeant on crack.
I tried to steer the conversation back to safer topics than the current state of my uterus. “I thought I’d make tiramisu for dessert.”
“That has caffeine in it. I’m not sure, but is that good for the baby? Not that I’m an expert or anything.”
Don’t get annoyed. She’s just trying to help.
“The amount is really tiny,” I began.
“Okay, you’re the food expert. But maybe ask the doctor to make sure.”
“Uh, I haven’t, um, been to a doctor about this yet.”
“What?”
“I just discovered it the other day. Did you miss the part about my being barely pregnant?”
“No, I just assumed you’d follow up with a doctor before you started making plans.”
“I didn’t want to do anything before I told my family.” I crossed my arms. No matter what, my sister had an uncanny way of making me feel five.
Would that still be the case when I had a five-year-old?
I shuddered. God, there was a frightening thought. A cute, talcum-powder-smelling-baby was scary enough.
“Good. That’s good. We can arrange a doctor’s appointment soon enough.”
Knowing I was likely opening a box of vipers, I asked what was hovering on the tip of my tongue. “Aren’t you…aren’t you curious about the father?”
Not that I wanted her to be. Even a little bit. But still, wasn’t that usually at least a consideration? She was acting like I’d been visited by the stork in the dark of night.
She waved my question away. “If he was a factor, you’d have mentioned it already. Nope, this baby is ours now, and we’ll take care of it.” She reached over and patted my leg. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just sit back and relax. In your condition, you shouldn’t be getting upset.”
I sat back, but I sure didn’t relax. Because the weirdness right now was epic.
When we walked into the apartment, Fox was kicked back on the couch playing golf on the Xbox. Normally, he would’ve been at class, but he’d skipped it since he knew I was planning to tell his supposed better half the news this afternoon.
To say he was surprised to look up and see Ame and I strolling through the door like any other day, no tears in sight, was an understatement.
“Hi,” he ventured.
“Hello,” Mia said coolly, sailing past him and into the kitchen. “Carly, you should probably hydrate.”
Behind my sister’s back, I stuck out my tongue.
“Don’t stick your tongue out at me, Carly Ann.” She came back and held out a bottle of water. “Drink.”
“How does she always know?” I wondered before uncapping the bottle. And draining half of it in one swallow.
Guess I really was thirsty.
“So, ah, how are things?” Fox leaned over to peer intently into my eyes. “You don’t look like you’ve been tortured for your secrets.”
I had to giggle. “No. No torturing.”
“Does she know?” he asked in an unfortunately loud whi
sper.
