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“Ooooh…cordial,” Harley says.
My sisters giggle. I roll my eyes. “Look, you can pry all you want, but I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.”
“You’re such a liar,” Amy snickers.
“Okay, let’s keep things –” Dana tries to temper the mood.
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Girls! Seriously!” Dana says firmly. “Please, my nerves are already fried. Can we…”
I grab Dana’s hand. “Sorry, Dana.”
My older sister smiles and sighs heavily. She’s nearing her eighth month of pregnancy and I know it’s all starting to become really real for her.
“All I’m trying to say, Kira,” Amy begins carefully. “Is that you’ve had this certain glow about you since you came back from the cabin.”
“Yes, well, some R and R will do that,” I say with a sip of my mimosa.
“That’s not the kind of glow she’s talking about,” Gillian adds.
I hate to gaslight my sisters by telling them something isn’t going on when apparently it’s very obvious on my face, but what happened and what’s happening between Orlie and me is a secret. One I will take to my grave.
“I know it would be very convenient and romantic, but this is real life. Not a fantasy,” I say.
“Awww,” Amy groans. “It would have been so cute. If you’d have thawed his grumpy, icy heart.”
I resist smiling. I think I might have. He’s become Mr. Congeniality of Wynters Group after making a name for himself as the resident grump. If affection and attraction are the things that transformed him, that does have an awful lot to do with me.
It is romantic when I think about it like that.
“Look, it’s Kira’s birthday. We’re not here to instigate or interrogate. We’re just here to enjoy each other’s company. Celebrate our sister. Right?” Dana explains.
My sisters all agree and then get to perusing their menus for what they’re going to eat.
I already decided what I wanted when I looked at the menu ahead of time. I’m just that type. So, I take my mimosa and scroll through my phone.
When I went to the cabin, I turned off all my notifications so as not to be distracted. So, instead of getting buzzes and beeps, I just get little red icons on the apps letting me know there’s something I’ve missed. Keeps me off my phone, which I’m grateful for.
I scroll through, sipping my mimosa casually. Nothing from Instagram, Facebook…
Huh, that’s weird.
There’s a notification on my menstrual cycle tracking app. I haven’t thought about it in a while. I tap it and immediately feel the blood rush from my face.
Three weeks late?
Holy hell. I’m three weeks late?! Was I really so busy with work and clouded with thoughts of Orlie that I didn’t even realize my period was –
I can’t be pregnant, though. Orlie had a vasectomy. Right? That’s what he said.
Unless he was lying. He just wanted to feel me. Use me.
God, I’m going to be sick.
I might be pregnant.
