Her Billionaires_ Boxed Set(120)
“I don’t feel well,” Laura blurted. Josie and Sherri closed in.
“Go empty your bladder. We’ll help you.”
“The day I need help peeing is the day I—”
“Give birth,” Josie interrupted.
Nasty glare. “Go find another woman. I’m so done with you. And you’re not my type, either.” Sherri seemed more amused now by their banter as she and Josie followed Laura down the hall to the single-stall toilet.
“I don’t need help,” Laura announced, opening the door and stepping into the same room she’d peed in for months now. Tears filled her eyes in the silent little tile-filled space. Something was wrong. Too much fluid? Sheri’s explanation made sense, and the baby was otherwise healthy. She. She was otherwise healthy.
A little girl.
Daddy’s little girl.
Which daddy? Her bladder groaned in ecstasy as she released its contents, the entire process taking about four times longer than usual. Ah, what pregnancy did to the body. Never before had she considered how nearly-orgasmic going pee could feel.
Thoughts of Mike and Dylan flooded her as she allowed that tiny little sexual thought to creep in. The pregnancy books talked about the magic second trimester, morning sickness gone and hormones aplenty making the mother horny. Laura got too much amniotic fluid and—bonus!—too much libido. Overdrive libido.
The kind that can only be satisfied by two men.
Leaving the bathroom, she was greeted by Josie. “Sherri had another patient. Said to schedule a follow-up in three weeks and not to worry.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Easier said than done, I know. Let’s check out and get some lunch. How about Jeddy’s?” Josie asked as Laura approached the desk.
“Pfft.”
“What? It’s good food?”
“First I’m not your type, and now you want to drag me back there?”
The receptionist interrupted them, quickly scheduling Laura’s next appointment. Josie held the door open as Laura exited. “Good food! Peanut butter cake...”
Any other day and Laura would have been all over it, memories of Mike and Dylan there be damned. The weight of the appointment’s news felt like a lead burden spread through her body. Sleep was what she needed now, much more than good food.
“I’m really tired,” she said, handing her car keys to Josie. “Can you drive?” Josie grabbed the keys, climbed in the front seat, and moved the seat forward a good foot. Laura carefully twisted to settle into the passenger seat, moving it back a foot or so.
Deep breath. As Josie maneuvered the car from Wellesley to Somerville, she perked up, energy came back. Suddenly, Jeddy’s sounded really good. Besides, if she went home it would be her and the cats, and they just hid and wanted food. Josie was a marginally better conversationalist than Miss Daisy, anyhow.
“How about Jeddy’s?”
“You bit my head off when I suggested it.”
“I changed my mind. Blame the hormones.”
“You never had pregnancy hormones before when you couldn’t make a decision.”
“I’m milking this pregnancy for as many excuses as I can.”
“So does that include excusing why you’re depriving this baby’s father of the right to know about it— excuse me, her—and be part of her life?”
Ouch. Josie hopped on the turnpike and flew through the EZPass tollbooth. The little green light mocked Laura. Green for go. Go tell them. Tell them now.
They have a daughter.
Daughter.
Uh, no. One of them has a daughter. One.
“I don’t know what to do, Josie. How am I supposed to tell them I’m pregnant?”
“You say ‘I’m pregnant.’” They had been fighting about this for the past three months, ever since that day in her apartment when the test was positive. Josie insisted the men had the right to know; Laura insisted she needed more time.
“You don’t understand.” Tall wooden retainer walls lined one side of the pike, while the commuter train moved in the opposite direction on the left, making Laura a bit disoriented.
“Understand what it’s like to be pregnant? No. Understand that you are lying to them? Yes.”
“It’s not...” Laura couldn’t even cry about this anymore. Waiting had made it harder, each day, to consider telling them. She wasn’t heartless. At some point she’d let them know. Then they could face the question of which man was the father. Cringing at the thought, she turned away from Josie and pressed her forehead against the cool window glass.
Silence. Laura tried to explain, her forehead flattening and the pain of pressing it, hard, somehow helpful. “After what Ryan did, I just figured I was damaged goods. That I send out vibes that draw demented jerks. And then here come Dylan—and Mike!—and it seemed too good to be true.”