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Vince walks into the living room and sits down beside me, pulling me into a kiss. I slip my tongue into his mouth and move to straddle him. I’d missed him during the day, and I wanted to celebrate our engagement.
“I missed you,” he whispers when we pull apart.
“I missed you, too. How was recording?”
“Same old, same old. We had a screaming match at three before we all realized we were just hungry. I re-did the mix for the first track. It was a pretty standard studio day. However, the band is beside themselves about our engagement. Henry and Apollo are fighting over who gets to be the best man. I don’t have the heart to tell them it’s Michael.”
I laugh, “Allison already called dibs on Maid of Honor.”
“I knew she’d be excited. My mum’s over the moon, too. She said to let her know when it is as soon as possible.”
My heart sank.Fuck.
In all of the excitement of today, I’d forgotten to call my mom! If she found out I was getting married through Allison instead of me, she’d never forgive me.
Vince took one look at my face, “You forgot to call Mikki, didn’t you?”
“Work was insane today and I felt so horrible all day I— fuck! I’m a terrible person!” I groan and peel myself off Vince’s lap, burying my head in my hands.
“It’s okay. We can call her now if you want,” Vince suggests.
I shake my head and lean back against the couch, “No, she’s at that pottery class on Monday nights,” I grumble.
“Oh, true. I hope she makes us a vase for our wedding present,” Vince quips.
“Don’t encourage her!”
My mom’s pottery looks like it was made by an over-zealous kindergartner who loves the Grateful Dead. Her artistic calling cards tie-dye paint jobs and the fact that she can’t get any of the vases to stay flat on the bottom.
“Hey, everyone has to start somewhere. I like that she’s picking up a new hobby. It’s inspiring. Maybe I can start sculpting.”
“Do you want me to model for you?” I ask.
“Yes,” Vince pulls me in for another kiss, and as I reach to peel my top off, my stomach heaves. I pull away, climbing off of him.
I press my face against my hands and try to regulate my breathing.
“Lynds?” Vince asks quietly. “Are you alright?” He loops his arms around my shoulders, and I can’t repress it any longer, I sprint to the bathroom and barf for what feels like the millionth time today.
Vince follows me to the bathroom and crouches down beside me, rubbing my back.
“Food poisoning again?” he asks before continuing, “I didn’t know it could last this long.”
I wipe my mouth with a handful of toilet paper and shake my head.
“No, it’s not that. I’m pregnant,” I pant.
Vince pauses. For a moment, he’s still as a statue, his hand hovering mid-pat. I can feel the gears turning in his brain as he attempts to comprehend this information. I think a visual aid might help.
“The test is on the counter,” I add.
He gets up and walks over to the bathroom counter, studying the tests intently.
“Wow, that’s a big plus sign,” he says.
I pause, get up from the toilet, and walk over to him, waiting for him to say something.
“I know we said we didn’t want to start trying for another couple of years like that’s a pretty solid plan. If you don’t want to um, do this now, well, I get it. I mean,” I’m talking so fast I can barely comprehend what I’m saying.
