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I cringed and was thankful Monica hadn’t called me that.
“I’m sorry,” Monica wailed. “I love you both.”
“Strange way to show it,” Bob mumbled. His eyes connected with mine, and I knew instantly he was messing with Monica. “I might need a vacation when Dean gets back to heal from all of the abuse.”
Monica owned Adams Café and was known to be brutally honest. Though, to be fair, she did try to soften the honesty when she laid it on us.
Monica’s jaw dropped, and her eyes watered.
“Gotcha!” Bob and I called in unison.
We knew how Monica was, and she wasn’t trying to hurt us. Bob did look washed out in the yellow shirt he was wearing, and I looked like hell.
“I hate you two,” Monica grumbled. She flipped on the coffee pots and dropped filters into them. “Bandit is the only one I like right now.”
Bandit let out a woof and trotted over to Monica.
“Traitor,” I called to Bandit.
Monica grabbed a broken vanilla biscotti out of the bakery case and tossed it to Bandit.
“Careful, Bandit. If you eat too many biscotti, Monica might tell you to lose a few pounds,” Bob warned.
Monica dropped to her knees and cradled Bandit’s head in her arms. “Never,” she cooed to him. “You’re absolutely perfect.”
“I think that could be a compliment to me,” I hemmed. I grabbed an apron from under the counter and looped the tie around my stomach. I grabbed the ties where I normally did, and my hands didn’t meet behind my back.
Oh. No.
I cleared my throat and squelched the panic inside me. Monica and Bob had no clue I was freaking out. Right?
I moved my fingers down the strings and managed to tie the apron.
When the hell did that happen? I had only been off of work for one day, and my stomach had grown that much.
My body was changing much faster than I had thought it would. Which meant I was going to have to start figuring out what the hell I was going to do.
“Missy,” Monica called.
I shook my head and pushed my hair behind my ear. “Yeah?” I asked. I needed to focus on work and not my growing stomach. It wasn’t like my stomach was just going to pop out ten inches right now. Right?
“Can you grab the scones out of the oven when they go off? Bob is going to take a break before we open.”
I nodded and headed to the ovens in the back.
Bob and Dean were the main bakers for the café, while the rest of us took care of making the coffee and serving the customers.
The buzzer rang, and I grabbed the hot pads off the workbench. I opened the doors, and the delicious and sweet scent of brown sugar raisin scones wafted around me.
My mouth watered as I pulled the pans out, and I couldn’t resist grabbing one to set aside for myself.
“Are you eating all the profit?” Monica laughed.
I grabbed my scone and broke off a piece. I popped it into my mouth and couldn’t hold back my moan. “These are delicious.”
Monica laughed and dropped the dirty trays from yesterday into the sink. “Well, yeah. Though I thought you didn’t like raisins.”
I hadn’t. Never did.
