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Finally, Anne finished. She took a deep breath, then blurted, “Maria, I’m pregnant.”
She didn’t think Maria’s eyes could get any wider, but they did. Her mouth was slightly agape. Anne waited for Maria to speak.
“Well? Say something,” she prodded.
“Give me a moment. I’m trying to take it all in.”
Anne waited. A barista approached her. “Can I get you something?” he asked.
Anne absently said, “Medium vanilla latte, non-fat, add whipped cream.”
“Absolutely.” He smiled and turned to walk away when Anne suddenly remembered.
“Wait,” she said. “Make it decaf.” He nodded.
Once he was out of earshot, Maria regained her ability to speak.
“Darling, first let me congratulate you. I think it’s wonderful that you’re pregnant. It solves all your problems!”
Anne looked at her, incredulous. “How does this possibly solve my problems?” Anne’s voice was a squeak.
Maria winced. “Take it down a notch before only dogs can hear you.”
The barista returned with Anne’s latte. She thanked him and handed him some money. “Keep the change.”
Anne took a drink and burned her tongue. “Dammit,” she muttered. She was really off her game today, but who could blame her? She was carrying the baby of the man who would probably be the next President of the United States.
It was overwhelming.
“I’m just saying,” Maria continued, “that you love him. He loves you. You know the truth now about Matthew. He’s already proposed. So you had a bit of a rough patch. Who doesn’t?”
“I don’t even know how to go about fixing this.”
“Like ripping of a Band-Aid, darling. Best to just get it over with and let the chips fall where they may, though I think they’ll fall in your favor.” She winked at Anne. “I want to know how it goes.” She took a sip of her cold coffee and grimaced. “Where did that barista go?”
They talked for a bit longer as Maria got a new espresso and Anne drank her decaf latte. They ordered scones with clotted cream and Anne tried to put her predicament in the back of her mind.
Afterwards, Anne returned home, the driver having waited for her.
It was a Saturday and while for most people it was a day off, Anne bet Blane was at his campaign headquarters, working.
She showered and washed her hair twice. She blew it dry and brushed it until it shone. Makeup was light though she did the contour thing and took great care with her eyes.
Anne surveyed her closet. She had two expansive closets, one for casual and business casual. The other was for formalwear and shoes.
What to wear to tell a man that he’s going to be a father? She grimaced.
Finally, she settled on a dark indigo sweater dress with boots. It had a turtleneck and long sleeves and came down to just above her knees. The boots were black with a low heel. She added a string of pearls, matching pearl earrings, a thin gold watch, and an aquamarine and diamond ring her parents had given her when she turned sixteen.
Was she taking great care with her appearance or putting off the inevitable?
Finally, there was nothing else she could do. With a sigh, she grabbed her purse and headed out. Her father saw her and paused.
“You look lovely, Pumpkin,” he said. “Where are you going?”
Anne hesitated, deciding if she should lie or tell the truth. She went with the truth.
“I’m going to see Blane,” she said. “I need to talk to him.”
