Billionaires and Baby Rattles(3)

Telling Kyle and hearing his nasty attitude firmed the decision that she was better off being a single mom. Luckily, she had anticipated his attitude and taken steps to make sure the break was clean and he could never come back into her life. Kyle signed over his parental rights quickly before hitting the door running. The papers were now stored safely in her safe-deposit box along with her grandmother’s pearls and rings.

She stopped for a moment to rub her belly and wished that her nana was around to see the baby. She’d lost her only family two years ago and missed her as much as if she just lost her yesterday. It was Lucille Spencer who gave her the spunk and the fire to say, “Fuck off. I’m raising my child alone.” Mya was sure her grandmother was looking down at her in approval right now.

Time to eat something. The thought made her grimace. It was hard to keep anything down, and noodles were barely cutting it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She wanted to eat a big, thick, juicy burger and salty fries. But she knew if she gave in to the whimsy that she’d be bent over the toilet puking her guts out. So she made her bland noodles and added butter, ketchup, and hot sauce just because the baby wanted it. As disgusting as it looked, and knowing she wouldn’t eat it if she weren’t pregnant, she devoured her makeshift meal. She had half a glass of ginger ale and then sat on the couch for thirty minutes so her food had a chance to settle. She had learned another lesson—lying down right after eating led to the same conclusion of being sick in the bathroom.

Luckily, she was already around seventeen weeks pregnant. Her doctor said at twelve weeks, the end of her first trimester, she’d start feeling like her old self. But she was a week past four months, and it was still the same. Her doctor said sadly she might be one of the women who has morning sickness the entire pregnancy. Oh fun—not!

Mya was looking forward to reading in bed later that night. She had a bunch of pregnancy books on her Kindle to pore through. She would be the best parent she could and was excited at the new chapter in her life. Who didn’t want to be in a secure relationship when expecting a child? But when a situation presented itself, one had to adapt.

Time’s up. Mya sighed and went into her bedroom. She felt like she could sleep the day and night away and gratefully took her clothes off to slide between the sheets. It was fall in Boston, October first, to be exact, but she always slept in only her undies no matter what the season was. Her due date was May fifth, and she was already excited. I can do this all by myself, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

Much too soon, it seemed, she was awakened by the doorbell in her duplex. She looked at the clock on her bedside table groggily and saw four hours had passed and it was after six in the evening. The doorbell rang again, and she moaned, throwing her hand over her eyes. Who was at her house, exactly? If it was her best friend, Robin, she was going to murder him. The persistence of the ringing bell made her irritably get up and throw on a bathrobe. Mya muttered about murder and mayhem under her breath. It wasn’t Robin at the door but Ethan when she wrenched it open a little too forcefully. His handsome grinning face was a surprise to see, and he held up a brown bag with grease stains at the bottom.

“I’m feeding you and the baby today,” Ethan announced and opened the bag. “I brought your favorite burger from Daddy’s, and the Cajun fries.”

“Oh God.” At the smell and thought of the burger, she felt her stomach turn and the contents left from lunch begin to rise to her throat.

Mya covered her mouth with her hand and waved him inside before rushing to the bathroom. There wasn’t much left, but whatever was in her stomach came up until each new round made her muscles hurt as she gagged. Finally she got up tiredly and brushed her teeth, splashed some cold water on her face, and found a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt in her bedroom.

She poked her head out of the bedroom, looking warily at Ethan standing by her sofa. “That stuff isn’t in here, is it?”

“No, after your reaction, I fed it to your neighbor’s dog,” he said.

“Poor Brutus was on a diet,” Mya said. “Well, I won’t tell on him since it was our fault. Stop standing by the door, Ethan. You can sit in my house.”

“I was waiting to be invited. It’s good manners,” he replied. “I’m sorry I made you sick.”

“It’s not your fault.” She sat Indian style on the opposite side of the sofa and faced him. “They said after the first trimester I should stop throwing up at the sight of food. They were wrong.”