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“What about me and Nico?”
“You slept with him,” she states. Her tone is so matter of fact that I want to slap her.
“No.” Deny, deny, deny.
I don’t know why I’ve been keeping that information to myself. I tell Harlow everything… well, almost everything. I guess I just wanted something all for me.
“I’m pretty sure the little nugget in your belly is proof to the contrary.”
“No. That’s not possible.”
Her brow arches. “When was your last period?”
“Not that long ago.”
I think back to the last time I bought tampons. It was only a couple of days before the night Harlow fractured my cheek. I do the math and—
My jaw drops, and she so very helpfully pushes it back up for me.
Bitch.
“Well, that look tells me everything I need to know.”
Harlow grabs a washcloth from under the sink and wets it with cool water. After ringing it out, she presses it to the back of my neck. We lock eyes in the mirror. I deserve to see annoyance staring at me but instead all I see is acceptance, support, and a fuck ton more love than I’m worthy of.
I burst into tears and collapse in a heap on the floor.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” I stutter between sobs.
“What the hell are you sorry for?” she asks as she sits next to me.
“T-t-this is your d-day.”
“And what better gift than finding out I’m gonna be an auntie?” She smiles so big that I immediately cry harder. “That’s a good thing, Pep. I’m so fucking happy for you.”
“I d-don’t know what I’m doing,” I wail.
“What parent does?”
Harlow lets me cry until there are no tears left. A round of wet hiccups follow and when those stop, my stomach growls… loudly.
“This whole pregnancy thing is quite the roller coaster ride,” she quips. “First you’re happy, then you’re puking, then bawling and now you’re hungry. What’s next?”
“Fuck if I know.” I climb to my feet, and she does the same. “Dammit.”
“What?”
“I’m gonna have to clean up my language, aren’t I?”
Harlow doubles over with laughter. I glare at her, failing to see the humor. While she struggles to catch her breath, I brush my teeth with one of the extra toothbrushes we keep a supply of. I toss it in the trash when I’m done so it doesn’t get used by someone else.
“You, my friend, are going to be an excellent biker mommy,” she says when she sobers. “As for the language?” She shrugs. “Fuck it. They’re just words.”
“I love you, you know that, right?”
“I do. And I love you too.” She links her arm through mine and leads me back toward the main room. “Now, let’s go get me married and tell a certain someone that he’s going to be a father.”
Nico steps around the corner and stops our progress. “Who’s going to be a father?”
